Too Soon Gone 4j95k

Too Soon Gone

JOHN L. BROWN

© Copyright 2014 John L. Brown. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Cover design by Jaime Crowe

ISBN: 978-1-4907-5038-5 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-4907-5040-8 (hc) ISBN: 978-1-4907-5039-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014919430

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Trafford rev. 11/13/2014

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Contents

Acknowledgements

First

Second

Third

Fourth

Fifth

Sixth

Seventh

Eighth

Ninth

Tenth

Eleventh

Twelfth

Thirteenth

Fourteenth

Fifteenth

Sixteenth

Seventeenth

Eighteenth

Nineteenth

Twentieth

Twenty-first

Dedication

To

Neil Agnew

Friend, Mentor and Always There at the Right Moment

Acknowledgements

A uthorship is never really done alone. I would like to recognize the invaluable help of Neil Agnew, Lucie Cantrell, Helen Ho and Jaime Crowe. Neil set me off on the road to writing and has always been there to help. Lucie’s unwavering helped keep my fingers on the keyboard. I am sorry she is no longer here to read the final product. Helen keeps me on an even keel and my writing in a realistic perspective. Jaime’s creativity adds realism and color to the book cover.

First

G us wheeled his jeep into the parking lot, the left fender long gone and the right headlight saved from bouncing off the pavement by a strip of failing duct tape. He swung out of the jeep, patted the right fender and murmured over his shoulder, “Hortense, me old gal, you desperately need a face lift. I wonder if there is any way to wheedle an advance on my first paycheck from the university. I’ll plead a family medical emerg ency.”

Before heading into his office for day one in his new job as Chief of Campus Security, Gus stole a glance in the jeep’s side mirror to confirm he looked almost as good as he felt.

The thatch of reddish brown curls inclined the curious to guess his age below the date stamped on his port confessing a chronological milepost of forty-nine. If interrogated by nosy questioners he claimed a felt age closer to thirty-nine. He thought his brand new olive green uniform an acceptable match to his rusty locks. Rusty was his hated nickname from a former life. It reminded him of a neighbour’s Irish Setter. Now he made sure everyone called him Gus. A smaller mouthful than Augustus, thanks to Angela his Italian mother. She said he should carry the name of the first emperor of Rome with pride. His father, Hamish, had campaigned for Wallace or Robert after equally renowned kings of his native Scotland. But as in all things domestic mother won and his birth certificate recorded Augustus Wallace Fraser. Nowadays, simply Gus Fraser.

Gus turned up the path at the same time as a young woman in her early twenties. Ever the gentleman Gus let her go ahead but stayed close enough to open the door of the Campus Security office. She thanked him and continued on to the counter beneath a large sign, Information. “My name’s Glenda Miller. I’m new here and I’m lost. Could you please give me directions to the Graduate Faculty?”

A platinum blonde woman behind the counter, round in every way and everywhere, not unlike a well fed Dolly Parton, produced a map from under the counter, ed two buildings with a red line and drew a large circle at the end of the line and stabbed sharply in the center. “Right there,” she said. “And better hurry, they close for lunch and it’s past 11:30.”

Gus gave her a quick up and down as Glenda hurried past, thanking him on the way. His eyes followed her out for a customary quick assessment. His personal circuitry was hard wired to evaluate any female form that ed in view, especially in retreat. He guessed a typical student in backpack, blue jeans, stained running shoes and a blue work shirt flapping over a maternal set of hips and backside. A bit on the husky side he thought but a little less weight and a little more make-up could turn an almost forgettable face into a pleasant permanent memory. If she lost the wire rimmed glasses that too would help. As she turned the corner and disappeared Gus noted a determined and purposeful gait, kind of like someone herding cows into the barn for milking.

But enough fantasy fun for one day. Time to get on the job. He turned to introduce himself to the Information lady, who now sported a tiny smirk knowing full well where his mind had just wandered. Before he could get his mouth in gear she held out a chubby red palm and announced, “Welcome, name’s Marley.”

“Is that a first or last name,” Gus asked?

“First, my father loved the Christmas Carol. The full handle is Marley O’Toole. and you’re Augustus Fraser. I don’t know how I offended the deity that I’m committed to share my work space with a carrot top Scot.”

“Hey, I have to share mine with a lippy Irish leprechaun. Maybe we can learn to

share our burden. And we’ll get along a lot better if you the name is Gus. Now where do I hang my hat?”

“Try behind that door with the sign, Chief of Security,” Marley jerked her head over her right shoulder at the corner door.

“Thanks,” Gus said, “I see we’re going to get along real well. I already feel like I’ve been married to you all my life.”

As he disappeared into the sanctuary called his office he heard Marley growl, “Glad we have it settled who’s in charge around here.”

Glenda found the Graduate Faculty at about 11:45 and made herself immediately unpopular with Shirley, the waif like girl at the front desk who had been carefully watching the hands of the wall clock creep too slowly to vertical. She had agreed to give the Spanish graduate student who ed yesterday a guided tour around campus, including her favorite secluded luncheon nook. A peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich was wedged into her handbag waiting for her to scurry out the door. Now a determined young woman blocked her getaway and threatened to derail the romantic dream she had conjured all morning.

Glenda held out a hand, introduced herself and asked what she had to do to become a ed doctoral student, and could she get information on inexpensive places to live.

Shirley’s spirits jumped back to euphoric as she saw her escape. She smiled sweetly at Glenda and crammed a sheaf of papers into her hands, including the

official listing of accommodation from the housing office. As she rose from her chair and walked around the counter she told Glenda to fill out the forms and leave them on her desk. Shirley knew she should have stayed in case Glenda had questions but she was determined to make her luncheon assignation. That had become a favorite word of hers ever since she read it in a Harlequin novel.

Shirley needn’t have worried. Glenda rapidly filled in the forms and what she didn’t know she guessed, or made up. Her interest lay more in meeting her husband Harold at the Student Union cafeteria. Glenda needed to escape from their seedy motel right now.

Although cheap it cost more than Glenda wanted to pay and who knows what dreaded bugs invaded the bathroom or threatened to attack from the depths of the mattress.

Two weeks of tranquility remained before the start of term and the cafeteria slumbered in the swelter of a summer day. The staff too slumbered, well more like slept standing up.

They reminded Glenda of the horses on her parent’s farm, up on all fours but dead to the world. She found a self-serve salad bar, which allowed her to fill a plate with a mix of lettuce, radishes, carrots, tomatoes, green onion, red pepper and a healthy dollop of guacamole without disruption to any of the staff. An extra large glass of whole milk and an all-grain bagel completed her lunch fare. As a toddler she never missed milking time when her father would shoot a stream of milk direct from the cow’s teat into her open mouth. No matter the nutrionist’s onitions, she could never stomach the idea, never mind the thin blandness of skim milk.

Harold welcomed Glenda to the table with a cheek kiss and helped remove her

backpack.

A few ketchup drenched french fries testified to his usual lunch of a burger, fries and super size coke. There was enough ice and coke left to slurp on while Glenda picked at her plate of greenery. She envied Harold’s lunch but had resolved a few new beginnings as she moved on from her rural roots near the town of Grande, Saskatchewan to Vancouver and a Ph D program at UBC.

Harold apologized for starting and finishing before Glenda came but pleaded uncertainty of her arrival time. Apologizing came easy to Harold. He had a lot of practice. But he didn’t mind. Being married to Glenda had too many advantages. She had removed the encumbrance of an independent life. No longer did he have to worry about major decisions, or if his socks matched. An added bonus was not long after Glenda came into his life he no longer had to make up hard to swallow stories to convince his male friends that he had lost his virginity.

One might have thought that a guy born and raised in the larger centre of Saskatoon would have an advantage over a farm girl from a small town. But at all times and in almost all things outside the world of computers, Glenda had the answer.

Harold first heard Glenda’s panic stricken voice while he sat on one end of the phone line at the University Computing Centre’s Help Desk and Glenda pleaded to be rescued from a frozen computer. If someone did not rush to her aid she could not finish a paper on time and a more miserable than usual professor, on the verge of retirement, might give her a low enough grade to jeopardize the prestige of a straight A average. Harold knew his job didn’t include home visitations but he couldn’t ignore the wail of distress pealing down the phone line. The repair was easy and because Glenda had to finish her paper Harold took an early departure, but only after accepting an invitation to dinner the next night. A few more dinners that ended in sleep overs and Glenda and Harold agreed to reduce their accommodation and food expenses by a life together.

Harold may not have been the Prince Charming of her dreams if she had the choice of her dreams but who ever does. His thinning sandy hair crowned an almost six foot frame and even the most generous scale refused to fess up to more than 150 pounds, even on humid days. An unexpected bonus turned up when he and Glenda found they could share the same owlish, wire rimmed glasses. And a less mentionable advantage is he proved to be teachable and ready on call for bedroom gymnastics. But above all he had agreed to marriage and saved her from a return to a waiting teaching job in her hometown.

Her Fundamentalist father would never force her to leave her husband behind in the city while she moved back to the farm. And she had fully briefed Harold to never give in to her father on that score.

Glenda ate quickly and in silence while Harold made ticks on the housing list. About half the salad seemed enough and she pushed the rest aside to spread out a map of Vancouver.

She relieved Harold of the list, noting he must have been making random ticks since none fit her criteria for price and location. She marked her choices with an X and stood up to start the search for their new home. She wanted to be settled in by tomorrow so she could check in with her Ph D mentor, the maybe Nobel laureate, Professor Charles Holmes. Harold fell in behind, relieved that he could never be accused of the mistake of picking the wrong place to live.

Second

G lenda sighted the bright morning sun through the bare bedroom window, her left eye first and slowly her right. The queen bed left barely enough room for a single wooden kitchen chair in one corner, now hidden by jeans and tee shirts and an upside down wooden box covered with a red checked table cloth, probably stolen from an Italian restaurant, that ed a cracked, fake Tiffany lamp. The white sheet that draped the wall opposite the bed covered a recess that served as a clothes closet. Glenda pushed back the bed covers and navigated through the boxes that littered the floor to find the bathroom for her first shower in their new home. The bathroom was next to the bedroom and she wondered if they could cut a door in the wall so she could walk directly from bed to toilet and shower. Something she might suggest to Harold if it looked like he had spare time on his hands. Although bitter experience reminded her it would be easier, quicker and more likely to happen if she wielded the hammer and saw he rself.

She stepped out of the shower and toweled herself off while she toured the two other rooms in their newly acquired furnished apartment. What little furniture they once owned had been left behind, turned over to the Salvation Army for donation or disposal.

The sitting room included a sofa, newly covered in a pattern of pink roses on a cream background. A coffee stain on one cushion made Glenda suspicious of how recently it had been recovered. A matching chair and foot stool, plus a cracked leather chair and two pole lamps completed the furniture.

By the time Glenda arrived at the kitchen Harold had moved from bed to table and sat with coffee and a bowl of muesli. Harold had found a tee shirt and pair of jogging shorts for his morning attire. Glenda sat down as she had left the shower. The two had developed a casual at home attitude to share each other’s company

in varying stages of dress, or undress as the mood took them. A table and three wooden chairs occupied centre stage in the kitchen. The fourth now functioned as a coat rack in the bedroom. At least the owner had provided almost new, second hand appliances of stove, fridge and even a dishwasher.

A search of the drawers and cupboards revealed a place setting of four plates, cups, glasses and cutlery. Also enough pots and pans that Glenda and Harold could continue cooking their frugal home dinners. To Glenda’s delight Harold had taken on more of that workload. She valued the extra time for her research.

Glenda gave the muesli box a vigorous shake over a bowl and leaned across the table to grab the milk carton in front of Harold. Her right breast hung suspended over the table close enough for Harold to tweak her nipple. “Ouch, that hurt,” she yelped and rapped his knuckles with her spoon.

“Serves you right for tantalizing me at this time of day. Want to help me make the bed?”

“Remind me tonight. I have to check in with the great Professor Charles Holmes this morning. You’ll have enough to do emptying those boxes and filling the fridge. And when it comes to the beer ration , we drink local and cheap, leave the foreign stuff on the shelf.”

“Yeah, sure, I know the routine. You driving or riding today?”

“Riding, it will help my war on fat and eliminate the grief of finding a parking spot on campus. Besides, you’ll need the car to schlep home the groceries.”

Glenda and Harold call themselves a two vehicle family. One, a mountain bike they had bought on sale at Canadian Tire, mostly paid for with Canadian Tire dollars. The second, a twenty year old BMW 2002 Harold inherited from his lawyer brother after he made partner and moved up in the auto world to a racy M5. Despite his Beemer’s vintage he still feels cool behind the wheel with windows down and fingers rapping on the roof in time to the music. He especially likes the red color of the car, although Glenda says two tone, rust and red. Harold ignores that comment because he plans to do something about the rust. One day.

Third

O live Hanratty heard the outer office door click open and in a short second, thump shut. The click-thump announced the arrival of University Research Professor Charles Holmes. She glanced at the atomic clock over the fireplace mantle, last year’s graduate student birthday gift, and muttered, “two minutes early, darn, I’m not quite ready for him.”

Olive hated being rushed but wanted everything just so, when the Professor stepped into his fiefdom. She positioned the pot of French press coffee in the upper right corner of the teak coffee table and arranged two of her home made, apricot and pecan muffins on a white Limoges dessert plate. One of her own that she had donated several year ago. After all, the Professor should have plates appropriate to his station. She quickly unfolded today’s edition of the Financial Times and spread it out in the center of the coffee table. Holmes had acquired the habit while on sabbatical at Cambridge. Tomorrow it’s the Wall Street Journal for variety. His interest in the world of business has grown with his reputation and the awards he received to finance a growing stock portfolio.

Just as Olive finished smoothing the paper she heard behind her, “Morning Olive, the usual? Fresh muffins.”

“Yes, Professor Holmes, I hope you enjoy them.”

“Always do but too bad only two. I’d love one right now while I check what’s up and what’s down in my portfolio. But I really need something to offer my new grad student who’ll be here in a half hour.”

“No problem Professor, I have another in my desk that I don’t really need. I saw a dress on sale that I’d like but I need to drop down one size.”

“Glad to help out Olive. You can bring the muffin in with more coffee when she arrives. Her name is Glenda Miller.”

“Glenda Miller. How is your wife, has she beaten back the flu?”

“I guess so but it’s hard to tell with Peggy, she always has some ailment. I can never keep up.”

“And the children’s school?”

“Donnie excels at underachievement. I hope he gets his finger out soon or he’ll be off to some second level state school. No one in the Ivy League would look at him with his current record. Marnie has been offered a tennis scholarship at a major U.S. state school. That will get her a degree at no cost to me but she’ll likely end up as a club pro since she doesn’t have the strength of character to survive on the tour. But she kicks my ass easily and has for some time.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s nice to have a loving family even if they do bring challenges to your life. I’ll give you some time with your paper before that Miller girl arrives.”

Holmes flips open his newspaper while he tears off a chunk of muffin and crams

it into his mouth. Over a mouthful of muffin he growls, “Shit for brains broker, that mining stock he put me into has gone backwards.”

Holmes flips through his paper, making occasional notes. When he turns over the last page he bundles up the paper and drops it into a wastebasket made from an elephant’s foot. He found it in a taxidermist’s shop on a trip to Kenya. Peggy called it gross and insulting, which left Holmes no option but to buy the offensive memento. The more others shared his wife’s opinion the more Holmes swore to keep it. Even Olive gave The Foot a wide berth when she ed by.

Holmes picked up the phone on his desk and dialed. “Hey Barney. Yeah, it’s me. No, I’m not having a good day and it’s all your fault. Spot on Barney, what the fuck is up with that mining stock. You said it was safer than government bonds. Even a naïve scientist like me knows government bonds don’t drop thirty per cent in a day. You say the latest assay report was worse than expected but you have inside information the next one will be so good the stock will double over night. Well if that doesn’t happen by tomorrow sell the fucking loser and then you can buy me lunch to explain how you’re going to make up my loss. Yeah, you have a good day too Barney.”

A gentle knock announces Glenda, wearing her new dress. The first time she has appeared in other than blue jeans and some sort of tee shirt since she waved good-bye to her mother. The dress was a gift from her mother. She told Glenda that it would come in handy one day. This felt like the day. Her mother had tried to make a multi-purpose selection since she knew Glenda wouldn’t look for many occasions to wear it. This particular number was blue cotton decorated with white daisies across the chest. Glenda had found a pair of white ballet slippers to complete the outfit.

Olive ushered Glenda into the presence of the great man. “Miss Glenda Miller as you expected Professor Holmes. I’ll bring in the coffee and muffins.”

Holmes remained seated and waved for Glenda to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the coffee table where Olive placed the coffee and muffins. Glenda preferred tea to coffee and she could have ed on the muffins since they were no longer on her allowable eats list. She thanked Holmes anyway and loaded her cup with milk and sugar to hide the bitter coffee taste.

Holmes took his coffee unadulterated from any foreign substance except to dip bits of muffin in the cup. Between slurps and munches he started to quiz Glenda about her health, recent comings and goings and if she had settled in yet. He finished the grilling with, “So over to you young lady, what have you been doing since I attended your presentation at the annual meeting in New York. I hope pursuing vigorously that line of research you have embarked upon.”

Glenda still couldn’t get over where she sat and who with, given her starting point.

Fourth

“You were supposed to be Glen Michael but when you came into the world we noticed that you lacked some necessary bits and pieces to legitimate a boy’s name. So your father said we had no other choice than to christen you Glenda Michelle.” That is what my mother told me at the age of three when I asked her about the source of my names. At the time she was trying to teach me how to peel potatoes without taking too thick a slice of peel. My father was determined that his first born would be a boy to proudly wear the name of his elder brother, Glen Michael who died on the beaches of Normandy, his body never recovered. For the longest time I felt it was my fault that my father had been denied his greatest wish. Every night thereafter I changed my prayers to:

“Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I should die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take. But if I do not die before I wake I pray the Lord a boy he makes.”

It never worked and after awhile I gave up and began to question a generous and all caring God. Of course at the time I didn’t know what becoming a boy meant. When I did learn I was so astonished and disgusted that I thanked the Lord for ignoring my prayers and thought maybe my doubt was misplaced. I had learned by then that most boys were a pushover on anything that mattered.

Father expected potatoes every night for dinner and he insisted on mashed with gravy and no one else could transform them into a gooey mess than him. He liked to march around the kitchen in a great clatter, the metal masher ringing against the side of the iron pot. When he had everyone’s attention and thank yous it was time to be seated, three heads bowed as Father thanked the Lord for everything he could think of and slipped in a few requests of his own on what he wanted improved in the world, the government, the weather and his own state of grace.

Dinner always consisted of the ever present potatoes and gravy, meat, fried or roasted, usually off a cow, but sometimes pork or chicken, never fish or lamb. Vegetables provided the only real variety, always from the garden according to season and in the winter whatever was available in the root cellar. That meant mostly carrots, cabbage and turnip. Father preferred turnips or neaps as he called them according to his Scottish heritage. For him nothing beat well done roast beef and nappies. The meat also came from the farm. Father did not believe in enriching the local merchants anymore than absolutely necessary. In his opinion anyone engaged in commerce operated on the edge of the law and usually on the wrong side. He always said he’d vote for any party that introduced a usury law. Dessert was a rare event, most often a wedge of homemade cheddar made at the same time as the butter, unless there was home grown fruit available. The one exception being Sunday when Mother was allowed to make a pie, one of her favorite recreations. Much more than making bread but that could not be avoided with a store bought loaf.

Dinner was eaten in silence except for requests to something. Father saw little need to tarry over a basic fueling activity. After dinner Mother washed and Glenda dried. The division of labour was decided by height, Glenda couldn’t yet reach the sink without a stool and Mother thought standing on one too dangerous. Father settled in his chair with a pipe, which he considered a minor vice, and searched the bible for the evening’s reading. Nearly always it came from the Old Testament with a strong preference for heroic tales like those of Noah navigating the Flood, Jonah fighting to stay afloat in the belly of a whale and Joshua trumpeting down the walls of Jericho. On the days the world failed to meet Father’s expectations he sought solace in a reading from the trials of Job.

When Father finished the reading that signaled bedtime for Glenda. She gave her father a kiss on the cheek and in return he patted her softly on the head. It was Mother’s job to see Glenda was properly washed and night gowned with her prayers said before turning out the light and always the exchange of a good night kiss.

Father and Mother spent the shank end of the evening exchanging the day’s accomplishments, doing necessary bookwork and turning on the radio to hear the news and next day’s weather forecast. That was all Father said the radio should be used for except the mid-day farm report, listened to during lunch. According to Father the radio was a tool meant to contribute to knowledge and farm management. Not a source of trivial entertainment.

Upon arrival of the Sabbath the family followed biblical prescriptions. The morning at church and the afternoon studying the bible or other religious works. Only during harvest did Father allow an exception. He said that since God made the weather he would not mind if we took advantage of the good days he loaned us to bring in the crops.

Father had followed his own father’s religious teachings brought over from the home country _ Scotland. He was a devout member of the Free Church of Scotland, or the Wee Frees to use common terminology. The Wee Frees was the group that remained outside the union with the United Presbyterian Church of Scotland in 1900. They found the latter too liberal in their views. The Wee Frees accept the Bible in its entirety as the Word of God and derive all teaching, worship, ministry and government from it. The word free in the title refers to freedom from state interference in the church’s internal affairs.

The Fourth Commandment is a central tenet of their doctrine: “ the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” It has led to such campaigns as opposing Sunday

ferry services and chaining play park swings. One may say it very much fits in with the view of the Calvinist devotee who was miserable at the thought that somewhere in the world there is someone enjoying herself.

Father had only been to Scotland on one occasion with his own father on a trip to do homage at the Normandy beach where Glen Michael had perished. They made the trip when Father learned that his father had cancer with a year left to live. He spoke little of the trip but did describe a Sunday at his aunt’s cottage along the west coast. After church the family spent the day in silence, inside, with the curtains drawn in religious study. All shops and restaurants in the village were shuttered. Father said he asked what travelers might do for a meal. His aunt said they should know better and plan ahead, or better still, stay home to observe the day as the Lord intended.

Glenda never called her parents anything but Mother and Father and they had come to use the same terminology themselves. Sometimes Mother called Glenda dear or darling but mostly both parents said Glenda. Glenda knew her father’s proper name was Gordon. On rare occasions like birthdays and Mother’s Day he might call her Alice. Over time and in snippets of conversation Glenda learned her mother’s real name was Alicia but her father preferred Alice. He thought Alicia put on airs that were not appropriate to a farm wife.

One day while searching a desk drawer for writing paper Glenda found an album that contained a set of wedding pictures. While time had made a difference she immediately recognized her mother and father. The faded black and white photo showed little detail but she could see her father wore a dark suit, probably tweed and his then black hair was slicked back close to this head. Her mother wore a light coloured suit and matching hat and held a small bouquet of white flowers. But it was the wide and happy smiles, not the clothes that caught Glenda’s attention. How she wished she could see them like that today.

Glenda eventually learned from her mother and others who had known her

parents in earlier days that her father had not always been so severe and her parents once lived a less austere life style. Her parents once indulged in such wild diversions as dancing and an occasional beer on special occasions. They had even met at a dance held in the one room schoolhouse where Glenda’s mother taught. One of his favorite dances had been a Gay Gordons. Even the thought would now repel him, never mind actually dancing one.

The change came when Mother had two miscarriages, both boys. More than anything in the world Father wanted a son he could call Glen Michael. After the second miscarriage Father decided their grief came from a lack of a devout life in service and honour to God. He took a vow on the bible and made sure Mother did too and from that day forward they would never again stray from the path of righteousness. The lack of an available Wee Free church meant a diligent search of the countryside for an acceptable alternative. Father finally settled on a local evangelical church two miles away. Close enough to walk on warm sunny days.

In her pre-school days Glenda enjoyed church. She liked the singing and stories told at Sunday school. Only after she started attending school in Grande and met children of varying backgrounds did she start to think of other alternatives.

Once Glenda was born Mother had to give up the teaching job she loved. Father insisted Mother stay home with the new baby. At first Mother tried to convince him she could still teach and look after Glenda. Father said no and that ended any discussion. The only law greater in the house was the Lord and Father reserved the right to interpret and communicate his wishes. One Sunday, when Glenda was about four, during a quiet Sunday afternoon in the winter with the snow falling and the wind howling through the storm windows, she looked up from her bible and assaulted her father with a question of blasphemy. “How do we know God is a man and not a woman?”

Mother wanted to laugh out loud but knew such an indiscretion would be worse than the question. Father peered over the top of his glasses and quoted, “Better to

remain silent and thought a fool than speak up and remove all doubt. Read your bible and learn.” Glenda never again asked a question in the presence of her father.

Glenda never played with dolls and she preferred pants to dresses. Only for church on Sunday would she wear a dress without protest. She preferred the outdoors to the indoors but when she was indoors she gravitated to her mother’s library of books from her teaching days. When Mother found Glenda at the age of three taking down books she used teaching children in grade one or two the time had come to start home schooling. Glenda took to the discipline easily and preferred books on dinosaurs, the planets and anything to do with numbers. On Glenda’s sixth birthday Mother said it was time to send her on the bus to Grande for grade one. Father said no. She was too young and he needed help on the farm. She easily herded the cows home and helped with the milking and other chores around the barn. Father said it was almost like having a son. It made Glenda proud to hear such high praise from her father.

Mother persisted at each birthday until Glenda turned eight. She enlisted the help of the pastor at church and Glenda’s teachers in Sunday School. Together they convinced Father that the time had come for Glenda to expand her social and academic horizons. Glenda had also developed an interest as the other children in Sunday School told her about all the fun stuff available in the big school and what you could find in the stores in town. Mother’s only concern was how Glenda would fit in. She knew Glenda would be academically ahead of all the other children in grade three. But she was concerned about Glenda’s social integration. So far her life had been an isolated one with little human except her parents and the church congregation.

Fifth

E arly in August, Mother began preparing Glenda for her coming out to Grande Public School. Although only a town of about 2,500 Grande was the largest place she had ever seen. She usually only saw it in the company of her parents on Saturday shopping excursions to buy what they could not provide for themselves on the farm. The town included a movie theatre that Glenda yearned to go inside but she never got past the brightly coloured posters advertising that week’s movie. Father damned movies as a waste of honest money and Glenda would be introduced to the devil’s temptations soon enough. Even when Mother asked if they could see Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Father remained unshak eable.

On occasions when Father was exchanging crop news and kicking tires at one of the equipment dealers Mother would let Glenda steal a glance at the television in the local electronics store. Glenda knew that whatever she saw remained between the two of them. She and her mother had developed an early understanding of what Father needed to know.

Mostly, all that Glenda saw was the inside of the grocery store, dry goods store and the local drug store. One day Glenda did escape to the magazine rack while her mother caught up on gossip with a friend from the teaching fraternity. Glenda gravitated to a photography magazine that had a special feature on the human form. Glenda had never seen a nude body before other than her own after a bath. She could hardly fathom the bumps, lumps and other proturbences, including the profile of a male figure with a full and impressive erection. It was that page Glenda gaped at when Mother snatched the magazine out of her hand and replaced it on the rack. Not a word was spoken but Glenda felt a thrill of excitement that she knew she must not it to and the next time she looked at such pictures she must make sure her mother was far away. Mother was too shocked to say anything, only glad her husband was not there. If he had Glenda’s days of town schooling would never start.

Father did allow one treat for the family before the drive home, a stop at the Canada Café, run by a Chinese family, the only non-Caucasian family in town. Glenda always wondered why they had not chosen a Chinese name for the restaurant. The difference in appearance and accent fascinated her. She told her mother that one day she would learn Chinese, which at the time meant speaking English with a Chinese accent. The treat never varied, coffee and a doughnut for the parents and a dish of cherry ice cream for Glenda. She always picked out all the cherries before finally eating the ice cream. She saw some of the diners eating Chinese food and wished she could order it, if for no other reason than it looked and smelled so different from her own daily fare.

The day of departure for school finally arrived, a crisp fall day with the trees turning to prairie gold and flights of Canada Geese trumpeting overhead. Mother walked Glenda down the lane to where the bus would pick her up for the fortyfive minute drive to Grande. Father had long since departed for the field to start the combine, he couldn’t delay the harvest on such a glorious day in of a decision he feared could only turn out bad. Mother knew she should be there driving the truck but nothing would stop her from seeing her baby safely on the bus and she would be waiting to meet her when she returned home.

Mother had phoned the school principal, a former teaching friend, to find out the name of Glenda’s teacher and what she needed for proper attire and lunches. The principal reported that if the previous year’s fashion remained in effect jeans and a tee shirt would be fine with the latest model of sporting shoes to cover the feet. When Mother suggested a trip to town to buy the necessary and appropriate clothes Father vetoed the idea. His idea of school wear was not a lot different than going to church and his daughter would be clothed appropriately in a proper dress and sensible shoes, even if no one else ensured their children showed up in the classroom displaying proper respect for the institution of education.

The report on typical lunches included such delicacies as potato chips, cheezies, chocolate bars and a variety of soft drinks. Mother alone vetoed any such

inclusion in Glenda’s lunch. Glenda would carry healthy sandwiches, containers of soup and fresh fruit, with as much of it homemade as possible. Mother had wanted to pack the lunch in a treasured box she saved from her own days at school. The painted lid had been inspired by the nursery rhyme, “Mary Had A Little Lamb”, and displayed a blonde girl in pigtails, wearing a bright blue dress, followed by a lamb on her way to school. When Father saw the lunch packed in the brightly coloured tin box he substituted a plain black one like he carried to the field and said there was no need to put on airs to impress the other children at school.

Mother dressed Glenda in an Alice blue gown decorated with pink and white forget-me-nots and matching ribbons for her hair. Mother had stitched the dress herself, even though dressmaking was not one of her domestic strong points, so the chest pulled and the back bulged. She also brought out a pair of new white, silver buckle shoes that she had bought with her egg money and had been saving for a special day. Glenda beamed when she looked at herself in the mirror and couldn’t wait for the bus to come. Mother did think Glenda looked beautiful and no doubt appropriate for church but she was less sure for the first day of school.

The yellow bus stopped in front of the lane and the front door swung open. Mother crushed Glenda to her chest and turned away to hide the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Glenda smiled and waved from the top step as the door closed and the bus lurched forward. Glenda was the first on board and settled into the front seat beside the driver.

“Hi young lady, call me Millie,” chirped the driver.

“Glenda, my full name is Glenda Miller. This is my first day at school.”

“My first day driving so we have something in common.”

For the next half hour Millie conducted the bus through a routine of stop, slide open the doors, introduce herself to the students stepping onto the bus, close the door and drive on to the next stop. As the students climbed aboard they examined the new girl, some looked astonished, others surprised and a few taken aback. But none of them said a word until they were out of earshot and then broke into excited chatter. Glenda seemed oblivious to the attention she created and appeared to hear nothing, although Millie thought she once heard something like, “Margaret’ll fix her.”

About half way into the trip Margaret made her entrance. A stocky, freckle faced red head, the hair in a single pig-tail, and outfitted in blue jeans and a green Roughrider sweat shirt, carrying her books in a similar green backpack. As she climbed aboard the bus, two steps at a time, Millie announced, “Hi, I’m Millie your new driver for the year.”

“Margaret Malone,” came the terse reply.

Margaret made an automatic move to take the first seat and stopped in a half crouch so she didn’t end up in Glenda’s lap. “Who the hell let you sit there? That’s my seat and has been since I started at that crap school.”

Millie jumped in and said, “Meet Glenda, this is her first day, like me. She didn’t know.”

Margaret turned to Millie, “Well she does now.”

Glenda slid over to the window to make room for Margaret.

“Not good enough Bo-peep, my books need a seat too.”

Millie said, “Put your books up here beside me Margaret.”

Glenda stood up and came to Margaret’s chin. She gathered up her books and lunch and slinked to the back of the bus.

Margaret threw her books into the seat beside the window, turned around and waved to the other students, “Hi everyone.”

“Hi Margaret,” rang through the bus.

When the bus arrived at school Glenda was the last off. As she stepped down a large, pink faced, white haired woman, dressed in a pale gray pant suit, hair pulled back into a bun marched up to greet Glenda.

“Hello, I’m Mrs. Harper, the school principal. I’m a friend of your mother and she asked me to look out for you on your first day. Come along and I’ll show you your classroom and you can meet your teacher.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Glenda. For a moment she reached for the principal’s hand and then thought better of it. Instead, she followed along quietly into a room marked 3A. The room was full of chattering students trying to one up each other on their summer adventures. A woman stood at the front writing, Mrs. Muffet on the board.

The principal took Glenda to the front of the room and told her, “Meet Mrs. Muffet, she’ll be your instructor for the year. Sally, this is Glenda Miller, I think you know her mother, Alicia.”

Not sure what to do Glenda gave a slight curtsey and said, “Pleased to meet you Mrs. Muffet.”

“Oh, Alicia and I’ve been friends for years, glad to have you our class. If you’re as smart and charming as your mother you’ll be an enjoyable addition.”

Sally Muffet had been the 3A class teacher long enough that she now taught the children of previous students. When out of earshot the students called her Tuffet. And at some point during the year the nursery rhyme ‘Little Miss Muffet” appears on the walls of the girl’s washroom. The janitor removes it by year-end to leave a clean place for a new version the following year.

All of the desks in the classroom were taken except one in the first row. The last seat any student would voluntarily occupy. Mrs. Muffet offered it to Glenda who was happy with her new place since it was beside a window. Before sitting down Glenda looked around the room and caught her breath. Margaret sat at the back smirking. Margaret and all of the students had taken note of the special reception Glenda received.

Glenda felt the sweat start to form on the back of her neck and under her arms in anticipation of she knew not what. The tension soon drained away as Mrs. Muffet devoted the morning to a review of work from the previous year. Glenda recognized it all from material she had covered with her mother. Once she realized she had seen it all before her thoughts drifted out the window to the farm and bringing the cows in for her father to milk. He had promised her that soon she could milk one of the gentler cows that wouldn’t knock her off the milk stool.

When the bell rang at noon Mrs. Muffet announced, “OK class, enjoy your lunch see you back here at one on the dot. And , only those with a note from your parents are allowed to leave the school grounds and go into town.”

The idea of going into town intrigued her but she knew her father would never write the note and her mother dare not. Instead she fell into line with her classmates and followed them to the lunchroom. Unsure how to approach anyone she found a table to herself, opened her lunch box and peered inside to see what Mother had made. When she looked up Margaret and two hangers-on stood in front of her.

“So, princess, what’s teacher’s pet got for lunch,” demanded Margaret. The hangers-on snickered in a tone of slight embarrassment, unsure what comes next.

Margaret pulled apart Glenda’s sandwich and shook the ham, cheese, tomato and lettuce into the lunch box. She took a bite out of the apple and dropped it onto the sandwich filling and sneered, “What a crap lunch, no chips or chocolate, not even cookies. I guess I’ll have to take these instead.” As she spun away Margaret yanked the ribbons from Glenda’s hair and draped them around her own shoulders.

Glenda shrunk in fear and confusion. She recovered enough to pick up the remnants of her sandwich, piece by piece. She then carefully nibbled around Margaret’s teeth marks on the apple.

The afternoon crept by with a repetition of the morning. In defense Glenda drifted off into her own fantasy world. She raced across the fields on her fantasy white horse, Jasmine to round up the cows and bring them home for milking, a task she shared with a to be named hero. The clang of the bell startled her back to the classroom. As she gathered up her books Mrs. Muffet ed her desk and said, “You were very quiet today, I’ll look forward to hearing from you in the future. I’m sure any daughter of Alicia has a lot more to offer.”

Glenda rushed to the bus to be first on and tried to melt into the fabric of a seat in a rear corner. She saw Margaret approach and knew how a rabbit feels when cornered by the family dog. In silence Margaret pulled a pair of ribbons from her pocket and dropped them in Glenda’s lap. They might have been used as dusters.

Glenda is last off the bus. As she started down the steps Millie tried to comfort her, “Cheer up young lady, it’ll get better.”

Once off the bus Glenda ran up the lane and into the house. She raced past her mother to her bedroom and collapsed breathless on the bed. She changed into jeans and a plaid shirt and returned to the kitchen. Her mother held out a glass of milk and plate of cookies. “Well, how was your first day of school?”

Glenda drained the glass of milk, grabbed two cookies and headed for the door. “I have to get the cows for milking.”

Not ready to give up her mother persisted, “What happened at school?”

“Nothing.”

Glenda returned switching along her little milking herd of two Jerseys and two Holsteins. Her father waited for her at the barn door.

“Father, can I milk the old Jersey,” Glenda asks?

“Not yet,” her father replied.

Glenda perched on a spare stool and watched in silence as her father methodically attached the milking machines to each cow and then strip them by hand to drain off the last of the milk. When he’s finished he and Glenda walk together to the house for supper.

At bedtime Glenda’s mother is torn between trying once more to find out about Glenda’s day at school and giving Glenda space to let her bring it up herself. Finally, when Glenda is tucked into bed and ready for her prayers her mother holds up the soiled ribbons and asks, “What happened?”

Tears cover Glenda’s cheeks and she barely mumbles, “A big girl called Margaret doesn’t like me.”

“Margaret Malone from down the road?”

“Yes.”

“She takes after the rest of the family,” said her mother. “I went to school with her father, Tug, and his sister, Tilly, who was a grade behind me. They tried to bully everyone in school until one day.”

“One day what,” asked Margaret?

“One day a new kid, Terry, started school and he didn’t know enough to be afraid of Tug Malone. When Tug tried to take away his lunch on the first day of school the new kid popped Tug and when it was all over Tug had both a bloody nose and a black eye. Not only was Tug defeated on the field of combat he made matters worse by tattling to the principal. He never lived it down and never bothered anyone again. Terry got the strap for fighting but we were sure it was not his first touch of the leather. And it never seemed to bother him. His parents moved on after the first term of school but we were always grateful. I called him Marshal Terry for bringing law and order to our school.

Glenda said her prayers and kissed her mother good night. As she closed her eyes and slipped into her fantasy world her hero now had a name.

“Math this morning,” Mrs. Muffet announced on day two and handed out a sheet of problems. Groans filled the classroom, except Glenda. Her favorite subject. She had recently found one of her mother’s Mensa puzzle books and used examples from it to make up math puzzles that she challenged her mother to solve.

Glenda looked at the sheet and saw a number of addition and subtraction problems with a pair of three digit numbers. The first problem was 348 + 256. “Mrs. Muffet announced, “I’ll do the first one for you and then we’ll work on the rest together. We start by adding 8 and 6, which gives us a total of 14. Write down the 4. But what do we do with the 1, of course we carry it over and add it to the 4 and 5 in the next column to give us a total of 10. Write down the 0 and again we have 1 to carry forward and add to the next column of 3 and 2 to give us 6 in the last column. So there we have our answer of 604. Questions?

By the time Mrs. Muffet had ground out the solution Glenda had written down the answers to all of the problems and was about to jump on the back of Jasmine for a ride over the hills in search of Terry. Mrs. Muffet continued the lesson asking for detailed responses to each of the problems. Glenda paused her gallop a couple of times to make out the halting and often mistaken replies as Mrs. Muffet’s patience persevered. But she quickly returned to full flight across a meadow in pursuit of Terry.

Mrs. Muffet announced that fractions came next and would Glenda return to the classroom and help the class in this new and challenging topic. Glenda looked down at her desk, which now had a new sheet with new problems. Mrs. Muffet wrote three of the problems on the board:

1. 1 ½ + 1 ½ 2. 1 ½ + 1 ¼ 3. 1 ½ + 1 ¾

As she finished writing the last one Glenda blurted out, “The answers are three, two and three quarters and three and one quarter.”

The class went silent and Mrs. Muffet flushed. “Thank you Glenda,” she said and proceeded to go over the problems in more detail for the rest of the class. She then switched the problems to subtraction:

4. 1 ½ - 1 ½ 5. 1 ½ - 1 ¼ 6. 1 ½ - 1 ¾

“Now who wants to try this set of problems,” Mrs. Muffet asked? All eyes but Glenda’s studied their desktop. The silence forced Glenda’s hand aloft and before Mrs. Muffet recognizes her she answers, zero, one quarter and minus one quarter.

“You understand negative numbers I see Glenda.”

“Yes ma’am, Mother taught me.”

While Mrs. Muffet carefully explained the answers to the class Glenda returned to her world of Terry and Jasmine. This time they both rode Jasmine, Glenda behind, tightly hugging Terry, her hair flared in the wind.

Rather than brave the lunchroom Glenda took advantage of an Indian Summer day and found a quiet corner in the schoolyard to eat her lunch. The bell rang for a return to class. As she hurried around a corner of the school she ran into Margaret and her ever present hangers-on. She tried to step around Margaret who shuffled back and forth every time Glenda tried to change direction. Giving

up the dance of dunces Glenda stopped and Margaret, taking advantage of the stationery target pushed Glenda onto her backside, her skirt flying over her head.

“Think you’re a real smarty pants don’t you, showing you know it all in class today. I’ll show you who’s in charge around here” and takes another push at Glenda as she tries to get up. On her hands and knees Glenda clenches her fists that close on a handful of gravel. She struggles to her feet as Margaret lunges for Glenda’s hair. Glenda ducks and hurls the gravel in Margaret’s face. Margaret tears at her eyes and can’t see Glenda’s head drop but feels it in her stomach and all hear her breath whoosh out on impact. Glenda follows with a wild roundhouse swing to the head. Cleaning the barn and carrying milk pails produced a punch strong enough to blacken Margaret’s right eye.

When Glenda walks through the kitchen door there is no milk and cookies waiting but Mother with crossed arms and red swollen eyes. While Glenda rode the bus home Mrs. Muffet was relating a tale of Glenda’s pugilistic talents. Mrs. Muffet had ired Glenda’s spunk to defend herself against the larger girl but something had to be done. Mrs. Muffet didn’t believe in the strap although she wished she could make an exception for Margaret. In Glenda’s case she will have detention over lunch and recess spending her time cleaning brushes, boards and whatever else Mrs. Muffet can dream up. To keep them apart Margaret will be assigned outdoor clean up duties.

To further drive home the point that school ground violence must be punished Mother told Glenda no more bringing in the cows and helping with the milking for a week. Instead she must stay in her room memorizing selections from the bible. Each evening after dinner she will recite her memory work.

After the evening’s recitation Father pulled out his pipe and lectured Glenda on turning the other cheek. When he asks if she understands what he is trying to get across she nods her head. But with a tremor in her voice asks, “What about do unto others as they do unto you?” After a long draw on his pipe to collect his

thoughts, he exhales to fill the room with smoke and adds that sometimes turning the other cheek is not the best strategy. The tough part is learning which is which. “Maybe you’ve been through such an experience,” he says.

The next morning Glenda finds her mother and father dressed in their town clothes. Mother tells her, “Father and I are taking you to school this morning. I didn’t mention it yesterday but Mrs. Muffet thinks you’re in the wrong class. We intend to find out today. How do you feel about taking some Grade 4 exams?”

“I’ll try,” says Glenda. “School’s been real easy but no fun so far.”

In town Father es the time doing the rounds of implement dealers to learn the latest in combines and tractors. Mother visits with some of the teachers she re from the days when they shared the same classrooms. She also takes a look at the exam questions Glenda has been given. She’s not surprised when Glenda finishes well before the allotted time. Mother and Glenda share their lunch in a nearby park and wait until they are called in to hear the results.

When Mother and Glenda return they find Mrs. Muffet, Miss Petrov the Grade 4 teacher, Mr. Hamel the Grade 5 teacher and the principal, Mrs. Harper. Jesse Harper and Glenda’s mother started teaching together. Glenda blushes and hides behind her mother.

Mrs. Harper takes over the discussion and announces, “Congratulations Glenda you have a perfect score on the exams. What do you think of that?

“Don’t know ma’am, OK I guess.”

“Alicia we’re still not sure if Grade 4 is best for Glenda. Do you mind if we see how she does with some Grade 5 level questions?”

“Go ahead Jesse, I’ll wait in the hall.”

An hour later Jesse Harper asked Glenda’s mother to them. Glenda waved and smiled at her Mother.

“Glenda did excellent Alicia, she’s without a doubt the most brilliant student I have ever encountered, but I’m sure you know that. She will have no trouble in Grade 5 and probably could pick up Grade 6 material quickly but I think the leap would be more than she could handle socially and emotionally. If you agree we’ll start her in Grade 5 tomorrow.”

Mother turned to Glenda and said, “Well darling, what’s your pick?”

“It was fun, I’ll do it Mother. The best part is I’ll never be in the same class as Margaret, ever again.”

Sixth

G lenda craned her neck to see the board from the back of the classroom. Her grade 6 classmates had two to three years and at least a head’s height on her. A cushion would help but she didn’t want to draw attention to he rself.

Each day included time for fitness, usually something competitive. The principal thought it promoted health and desirable personal characteristics like teamwork, leadership and class spirit. Glenda would sooner have buried herself in the library. A mix of size, lack of athletic talent and interest assured she would be the last picked. Only later in high school did she learn that by volunteering to look after the equipment one could escape what to her was the dreariness of running, jumping, throwing and yelling, sometimes in language she could never use at home. On her first fitness day someone threw a ball in her direction that sailed over her outstretched arms. A less than encouraging boy yelled out, “Ya gotta yump, stump.” Stump stuck forever after.

No one called her Stump or stumped when asked a question in class. Her early experience still informed her to wait in silence until called upon. Mrs. Taggert, the grade 5 teacher saved the tougher questions for Glenda to set the class standard. The ploy was not lost on the rest of the class but since she wasn’t really one of them her academic prowess had little impact.

Once she settled in Glenda found new resources that expanded her horizons beyond the confines of what she found at home. The library offered a selection of books beyond her mother’s collection. She also learned that she had access to books in the high school, although it took all her courage to dare enter such a foreboding sanctum.

She soon found the interests that she had bred in the bone. A fascination with the essence of life, where it came from, how it developed and what came after. Her family and her church had no doubt about the first and final chapters and epilogue. Glenda found contrary views in some of the library books she discovered. One day she discovered a new word that required reference to a dictionary _ atheist. She couldn’t fathom no belief in a God and asked Father at dinner. For the first time in her life she saw her father leave food on his plate. All colour drained from his face and his breath came in short puffs as he staggered to his feet and blurted that word must never again be spoken under his roof. Mother pointed out in a barely heard whisper that Glenda was young and must be given a second chance. Father retrieved his pipe and bible and retired in gloomy silence to his chair.

The mystery of numbers and the outcomes of combining and separating them intrigued her almost as much. Solving the numerical puzzles in her mother’s Mensa books was a continual fascination. When she examined some of the texts in the high school library she discovered a new mathematics of letters and symbols, many unfamiliar. A teacher told her they were Greek. She didn’t really understand what she read but knew that she would one day.

As the sun turned the winter snow to mud and the green budded trees fulfilled a leafy promise, rabbits faded from snowy white to a speckled brindle, gophers peeked out, noses twitching to test the warmth of the air and the meadowlarks trill announced spring’s arrival. Glenda knew that soon she could shed the scratchy wool vest that Mother demanded and feel the sun on bare arms and legs. Her thoughts turned from science and math to summer on the farm. She would ride with her father and sometimes mother on the tractor while they tilled the summer fallow or fertilized the crops. The best part was recognition of Glenda’s transition from childhood. Father had promised the pick of any cow from the herd to care for, milk and keep the money from sale of the milk. Mother had promised that if she did a responsible job tending the chickens she could keep the egg money. Glenda already had ideas on how to spend her new wealth.

The first day of summer Glenda herded the cows into a field where a slough overflowed from the spring run off and red wing blackbirds darted over the water carrying grass and twigs to build their nest. Hidden among the cattails bullfrogs croaked their dominance of the watery domain. Glenda left the cows to search out their favorite flavour of grass and foliage or to wallow in the water. She removed her boots, rolled up her pant legs and waded through the cattails, a mason jar borrowed from Mother’s cupboard held above her head. A throaty warning from frogs on all sides announced her intrusion, some leaping into the shelter of the border of cattails. Today she had no interest in adult frogs but instead hunted their tadpole offspring. She wanted to see if captive tadpoles developed differently than those maturing in the independence but danger of the slough.

Glenda waded up to her knees until she found a swirling black cloud of tadpoles. She dipped her jar into the cloud and turned for the bank. As she turned she stumbled into a hole and lurched face first in the slough. The cold water took her breath away but she held her jar aloft to save the treasured contents and struggled back to her feet and safety of the bank.

Drenched and dripping her first thought was to run home but to face Father after stepping into the forbidden slough was beyond her courage. Even Mother would stand united with Father this time. Instead she sought salvation in the rising sun. At first she thought of finding a place to sit with her clothes on until she dried out. The privacy of her bedroom or in the bathroom for her weekly bath were the only places that found her naked. But then she thought this was almost like a bath. She ran to the top of a nearby mound and carefully searched in all directions. Seeing no one she slipped out of her shirt and pulled down her pants to stand in only her underwear. A moment’s hesitation, another look around and her cotton panties lay on the ground. She spread her clothes on the branches of the willow trees along the slough and searched around again. Still no one and suddenly a feeling of relief and freedom swept over her. She threw her hands over her head, spun around and jumped straight up. Her lungs filled with air to shout freedom but a sense of warning took over and merely a squeak came forth instead of a throaty roar.

Glenda stretched out on her back in a grassy nook and guessed at the animal shapes in the drifting clouds overhead. When the clouds disappeared she ran her hands along her body to test if she had dried out. She had never felt her body before. As her hands searched along her body she felt a thrill she couldn’t identify. She soon slowed to a caress, tweaking the buds on her still boyish chest and then feathering her hand over her waist to finally rest and search through the fine hair starting to grow where her legs separated. At first her breath almost stopped but as the caressing continued her breathing became more rapid until it reached a crescendo that so frightened her she jumped to her feet. Glenda didn’t know what was happening but she was certain it must remain a secret. Never before had she felt such arousal She knew the time had come to get dressed, collect the cows and head home.

With the cows settled in the barn that night for milking she reminded Father the time had come to pick her very own cow. Her first choice had always been the old Jersey but on the way home switching the cows with a fresh willow branch from the slough she noticed one heavier and slower than the rest. It was a new comer to the herd and she asked her father what ailed the cow. A calf in her belly, he said. Glenda asked if she picked that one could she keep the calf too. Father’s first reaction came as a resounding no. He thought it too big a job for a little girl. Mother took Glenda’s side arguing that caring for a newborn calf would be a good lesson in responsibility. She couldn’t state her real reason of an object lesson in birth and life.

Glenda went though her usual nightly routine preparing for bed. Father signaled the time when he took out a large key to wind the chiming mantle clock, ready for the next twenty-four hours. Once he replaced the clock on the mantle she pecked him on the cheek and wished him sweet dreams. After a visit to the bathroom and a thorough scrubbing of her face she retreated behind the closed door of her bedroom. She unfastened the top button of her red and blue checked shirt and pulled it over her head. After carefully hanging it in the closet she sat on the bed and slipped out of her jeans and hung them beside her shirt. She retrieved her cotton nightgown, the one with bluebirds on it, from under her

pillow. Her normal routine was to slip into her nightgown and then remove her panties. For the first time ever in her life her panties dropped off first and she stared at herself in the mirror. Only then did the nightgown drop down over her head and she shouted “Ready.” Mother came in and they knelt together beside the bed sharing their prayers. Mother always ended the ritual with a kiss, a hug and a softly murmured, “Sweet dreams and may God bless you.”

Glenda usually snuggled down and drifted off to sleep with a bedtime story she made up from favorite memories of the day. Tonight all she could think of was lying on the bank and the sun warming her body. With one eye on the door she slowly lifted her nightgown above her waist and revisited the arousal of the sunny afternoon. From that night on it became her last memory before sleep.

Glenda named her cow Beulah because it sounded like the beast’s mooing. She watched with great anticipation as the cow’s girth grew and often placed her hands on the cow’s belly to feel the calf inside. One night she felt a shaking and opened her eyes to see Mother standing over her. “Get dressed and come to the barn,” she said.

Glenda followed Mother to the barn to find Father behind a bellowing Beulah, his arm inside her to his shoulder. With a final shudder and a yank, a wet and shaking creature flopped out on the barn floor. Father looked down on the small calf struggling to stand and muttered, “nice enough looking little fellow, we’ll feed him up for sale in the spring.” Glenda didn’t know what that meant, all she cared about was the joy of seeing a new life. She couldn’t have been happier than if she had given birth. She stood back and watched Beulah lick the placenta from her new baby and welcome him to the fears and joys of the world. She called him Stanley, after the tools in Father’s work shed.

At breakfast that morning after Father had mopped the last of the egg yolk off his plate Glenda screwed up the courage to ask the question that had been troubling her since she knew Beulah had a calf inside her. She thought she knew

the answer but wanted to hear it from her parents. “How did the calf get inside Beulah?” Father’s face ed through several shades of red and Mother took on a ghostly appearance. “Better tell her,” Father said and retreated in haste out the door.

Mother grasped Glenda’s hand and led her into the room they called the library where she had some books discreetly put away for this very day. By the time it was over Glenda understood the story of birth and how it all began but she had trouble understanding the physical actuality of it all. Mother must have noticed the quizzical look on her face and asked, “Do you understand dear?” Glenda nodded as if she did but she didn’t, not really. But she could feel Mother’s discomfort and wished she had never raised the issue.

Then Mother ed that Father had planned to take one of the cows for a visit to a neighbour’s breeding bull. At first Father was steadfast that Glenda was not ready for such an event and may never be ready. Mother persisted and that afternoon all three, plus a bewildered Holstein cow in the back drove over to the neighbouring farm.

Father led the cow out of the truck and into a small pen beside the barn. After trading greetings all round and an exchange of money the farmer led Bismarck, his prize Holstein bull from the barn. Glenda had seen bulls before but only briefly and from afar through the truck window driving by since her father did not keep one. And any male cattle that appeared were soon turned into steers out of Glenda’s sight and awareness.

Glenda stared at the enormous God knows what swinging between the bull’s rear legs where a cow’s udder hung. “What are those,” Glenda gasped to Mother? “Testicles or more commonly, balls,” Mother replied. “Balls,” Glenda repeated. “Yes but that’s not to be repeated to your father,” Mother cautioned.

Glenda had no idea she could be shocked further but in a second her naïve belief was shattered. No sooner had the bull located the cow and the now happy beast grunted deeply and sauntered forward. Yes, sauntered, just like an accomplished boulevardier stalking his prey in a Paris café in complete assurance of a successful conquest. Once the bull reached the cow he primed for action with an unsheathing of his action tool. Glenda gasped at the length and girth and feared for the poor wee cow as the bull settled on her back. After what seemed an eternity and much mooing and grunting and trembling of the earth a dripping bull fell off his perch in a diminished state and hid away, no doubt in embarrassment over the now sad state of his once mighty weapon.

Father turned and glowered over his shoulder, “Well Mother, do you think she learned anything and if so I don’t know what. I can’t imagine it’s anything good.” Mother wondered too, now it was all over.

Glenda had trouble relating what she just saw to the grainy photos Mother had shown her in the books that morning. Of course cows and people are different but Mother had said it was basically the same for all animals. The word is sex. She also wondered if Father was anything like the bull and if he really had done something like that to Mother. What a fright that thought gave her. That day’s image stuck in her memory for a very long time and while it frightened her, as with many things of repulsion, she felt a strong magnetic attraction. And not as a mere spectator but a complete and active player fully engaged in the experience. Glenda wondered too how her experience related to her newfound source of personal pleasure.

Today gave her the peak experience of the summer. She didn’t even mind when she knocked over her jar of tadpoles spilling them on the ground. They had been developing to the point where Glenda thought she might actually see a few transform into real frogs. Something to think of for next year.

Most days were spent at the farm but whenever Father announced a trip to town

Glenda was first into the truck. Once in town she went out of her way to help, including volunteering to pick up items at the pharmacy and in the grocery store while Mother visited with friends. Glenda’s helpfulness brought the reward she hoped for. Mother remarked that maybe Glenda could help with shopping during lunch hour when school started again. Glenda dared a slight smile at the success of her plan and reminded Mother that she would need a note for the principal.

She did make enough money from her egg collection and milking that she could buy a book she wanted. It would be a science book she had seen in the high school library that showed how different species developed from the state of an egg to a fully developed adult, including the human species. She planned to order the book on the first day of school and the start of Grade 6.

Seventh

G lenda perched on a rock at the end of the driveway waiting for the school bus. She could just make out the outline of Father’s combine clearing off a distant wheat field. Father had been in a good mood this morning. He claimed that God had answered his prayers with hot sun when he needed it and just the right amount of rain on schedule for an award winning crop. Mother prayed he would be in the same mood when the cheques rolled in and the money didn’t go under lock and key in the bank. Both Glenda and Mother hoped a modest share of the largesse might come thei r way.

This year Glenda looked forward to the first day of school. The fear of the unknown didn’t fill her with the same dread as last year. The torment of last year, that at times made her think Job had an easy time of it, had been consigned to a back corner of her memory, that she only visited on rare occasions. She knew now that school offered an arena for excellence. She would never be a star athlete, nor Miss Popularity but the smartest person in class also carries special privileges.

Glenda glanced again at her new watch. Well, not really new but new to her and first ever watch. Mother had found it in a drawer and when she realized it still worked gave it to Glenda. Father said it was putting on airs but let Glenda keep the watch. Glenda especially liked to follow the hand counting out the seconds in a tiny circle in the middle of the watch. By her estimation the bus would be late if it didn’t show up in the next minute. The bus just made it.

Glenda jumped off her rock and met the bus as the doors slid open. Millie the same driver as last year gave her a cheery, “Welcome aboard Glenda.” And from the recognizable stains on the seats and broken tiles on the floor she knew she would be riding the same bus.

Again Glenda was the first on board and had her pick of seats. She stepped to the familiar rear of the bus but Millie stopped her, “Sit up here and tell me about your summer adventures.” Before Glenda could say a word Millie jumped in with her own trip to Vancouver and climbing up Grouse Mountain and the view of the city’s skyline and the ocean and the ships that appeared as dots on the blue-gray harbor. She chattered on through the next several stops about her tour of Chinatown. Glenda had never seen mountains or any body of water larger than the local lake that was now barely a slough. And Glenda had difficulty picturing shops with barrels of mysterious spices and multicoloured healing concoctions, nor a fish store open to the street with tanks of flopping live fish and large white plastic buckets full of sealife covered in hard shells and names like oysters, clams and scallops. Glenda promised herself that one day she would leave Grande behind and tour the world.

For now her world was the inside of the bus and her space soon to be invaded. Glenda had been entranced by Millie’s story and the next stop surprised her. Margaret stepped into the bus and instantly Glenda recognized the invader. Maybe it was being taken by surprise but Glenda didn’t recoil in fear, nor did her bowels sink as if a bolo punch slammed into her below the belt.

Margaret looked down at Glenda but said nothing. Today Glenda returned the look and the silence. She did not like Margaret but no longer did she fear her. Also, Margaret looked different, like a girl. Her long pigtail had disappeared, replaced by a short bob and instead of a Roughrider hoodie she wore a pale green shirt, the colour of spring buds, over blue jeans that looked more suited to a schoolgirl than a construction site. The other girls on the bus still gave her a greeting of fealty that Margaret accepted but with a quieter relish than usual.

Glenda found that being in grade 6 meant promotion to the second floor of the school. Most of the students milled around in the hall, exchanging summer tales. That left Glenda the opportunity of first choice for a desk. She decided that the time had come to stand out a bit more and picked a seat at the front near the

door. Glenda sat down and hoped the first class of the day would be math or science.

A clanging bell moved the students from the hall into the classroom. A couple of barely audible ‘Hi agains’ provided the only recognition of Glenda’s presence as the returnees streamed past her desk. A new teacher, Mr. Hood, stood at the door waiting for the last student to slump into their desk. He poked the upper half of his Ichabod Crane frame around the door, peered over rimless glasses and waved at a faltering figure in the hall. The gesture shouted, ‘hurry, you’re late and holding us up’. Shortly, a girl, sparrow like in markings and demeanor struggled through the door. She limped to the only seat left at the back of the room. About the same location Glenda occupied a year ago.

The noon bell rang for lunch but Mr. Hood delayed Glenda to continue an over long answer to a question about the life span of frogs. Glenda had pushed him on it because what he said in class did not match her reading in a recently published biology text. She finally agreed so she could get to the bench in her favorite corner of the school ground before anyone else beat her to it. Someone had, the sparrow girl. She sat at the broken down picnic bench that had been abandoned in the corner of the schoolyard where the caragana bushes had grown over an old wire fence. The threat of splinters meant one sat down with great care.

She saw the sparrow girl had company, an almost grown puppy. It looked the size of the runt from a litter of black Labs but with the addition of hard to identify bloodlines that produced a white muzzle and a large white spot on an otherwise black body. The dog should be careful if someone drew circles in the white spot, it could take on the appearance of a mobile target. Target became his name.

“Hi, my name’s Glenda, who are you?”

“Sally,” came back the meek reply.

“Who’s your friend,” Glenda asked, nodding at the dog?

“I don’t know my lunch attracted him. So far he’s eaten my bologna sandwich and half a cookie. I think he’s starving but I have nothing left.”

“Only half a cookie for lunch? Have some of my sandwich, you need more meat on those bones. Its ham and cheese from our farm.”

The dog followed and put a paw on Glenda’s arm. He was rewarded with a small bite of the last half of Glenda’s sandwich.

“That’s all you get Mr. Greedy,” Glenda said. “My apple and carrots are for Sally and me.” Recognizing lunch had ended the dog retreated to the shelter of the caragana bushes.

Glenda and Sally straddled the narrow wooden bench facing each other. Glenda laid out her handkerchief on the bench and carefully counted out the carrots so each had an equal share. Then she took out a small pocket knife from her lunch box, cut her apple in half, took out the core and handed it to Sally.

“You know my name’s Glenda and I know your name is Sally but what’s the rest of it? Mine is Miller.”

“Greenfield, Sally Greenfield,” she replied.

“You’re new here aren’t ya’? What brought you to Grande?”

“My dad got a new job here. He looks after the maintenance for the town. He has a truck and gets to drive around and tell people what to do. He says its way better than his old job ’cause there some guy he hated told him what to do”

“Yeah, I guess no one likes to be told what to do. But why the limp? Can’t you lose it? It really slows you down.”

“Mama says I came into the world with a bad hip. She said my birth was so difficult that ended it for her and kids. Her and papa sleep in separate bedrooms you know.”

“Well since you won’t be playing any sports either, you and I can keep each other company while everyone else plays games.”

The bell started clanging to announce lunch was over and back to class. The dog seemed to know and retreated further into the caragana bushes to sleep away the afternoon.

For the next several days Glenda and Sally repeated the same lunch routine, dog included, who now answered to Target. They didn’t know if he had another home but he never missed his lunch date. In anticipation both girls started packing extra food and Glenda even managed occasionally to wheedle the

remains of a soup bone from her mother.

One day Sally invited Glenda home for lunch. Her mother had made chicken soup. It was her bridge day so she was out when the girls arrived at the Greenfield house but had left the soup pot on the stove. Sally ladled out a bowl each and found a box of crackers to go along with it. Sally’s mother had neglected to buy milk so the two girls had to share the remains of a quart. Glenda thought the soup was a thin broth with the taste of chicken but no meat or ample vegetables like Mother made but she politely thanked Sally anyway. When Glenda had scooped up the last of the soup and drank the last of her ration of milk she started to rinse their dishes in the sink. She thought it was the least she could do for lunch.

Sally said, “Leave them, my mother can do it when she gets home.”

Glenda kept washing, too habituated to Mother’s teaching that God would frown on a sink full of dirty dishes.

“Now we’ll have to run to make it back to school before the bell,” said Sally.

Glenda started at a full clip until she ed Sally’s handicap. She stopped and looked back to see a struggling Sally falling further behind. Glenda turned to go back and help as Sally leaned on a gate to catch her breath. She didn’t know the yard behind the gate belonged to Dempsey, a bull terrier who happened to be on guard that day, minus his usual leash. Dempsey was well known and much feared among the town’s children. His owner claimed he was harmless but a deformity from birth gave him an upper lip that curled above two yellow fangs. Sally, leaning on his gate uncovered even more teeth and a growl to announce his presence. Sally turned and screamed. She knew Dempsey and his reputation. She tried to run but her attempt at haste led to disaster. She fell face forward on

the sidewalk ripping skin off both knees.

Glenda picked up a stick and ran to help but knew she couldn’t arrive before Dempsey. She ran and shrieked, “Get away, get away.” Dempsey’s jaws were about to close on a prostrate Sally when a black and white flash hurtled into his midsection. The larger bull terrier rolled over gasping. It is unlikely Dempsey had ever met another dog with the effrontery to attempt physical assault.

“Target,” Glenda screamed.

Lacking experience in the rough and tumble of the dog fighting world the juvenile Target made the mistake of not following up on his initial advantage giving Dempsey time to recover. He launched at Target and the two rolled and rolled in the dirt amidst growls, barks and yelps. When the rolling stopped Target found an enraged Dempsey removing his ear. All Target could do was scratch and flail his back paws like a windmill but with little effect to dislodge the firmly attached Dempsey. Target would soon become a one-eared dog.

Glenda tried to rescue Target but the stick she wielded against Dempsey’s back had all the effect of an enraged butterfly. Sally could do little but keep up a loud shrill that might eventually deafen all within range. The noise may have been what attracted a tall, slightly stooped man in soiled overalls, a cap on his head like the men who drive trains wear and bushy moustache behind a clenched stub of a pipe, carrying a newspaper under his arm.

“Here now, what’s all the ruckus about,” asked the old man. The girls recognized Pop Keith, the school janitor.

“Mr. Keith, Mr. Keith, help us, Target’s going to be killed,” Glenda wailed. Sally just wailed.

Mr. Keith rolled up the paper under his arm, took out one of the large wooden matches he uses to light his pipe, scratched it on the seat of his overalls and set the paper alight. Once it was in full burn he shoved it between the combatants. A surprised and singed Dempsey let go and switched tactics from fight to flight and disappeared under the front porch of his house as far away as he could from this invading angel of fire.

The burning paper seemed to have missed Target who struggled to his feet, the main damage being a badly mangled but, still attached ear.

The girls threw themselves around Target’s saviour, tears rolling down their cheeks. “Mr. Keith, you saved our Target. You’re a hero.”

An embarrassed Pop Keith looked at the wounded Target and said, “Bring him along, I have something to help out.”

Pop Keith turned for the school followed in order by a limping Target, a limping Sally and a grateful Glenda. At the school Pop Keith led them into his cubicle in the basement beside the boiler room. He shook some iodine powder on Target’s mangled ear and bandaged it with gauze from his emergency first aid kit. Target yelped from the powder but Pop Keith held firm.

“You know the school doesn’t hold for animals,” Pop Keith told them. “But I reckon I can get by down here for a couple of days.”

“Now we really are late for school,” Glenda said.

“Forget it, I don’t feel very well anyway,” said Sally.

“Not a chance,” said Glenda. If my parents found I missed part of a day I don’t know what would happen and I’m not going to find out.”

A reluctant Sally agreed and with Target taking up a rearguard position the trio returned to the classroom.

The two girls attempt at an unobtrusive reentry failed miserably. A scowling Mr. Hood greeted them with, “I’ll hear your story at recess.” Glenda took charge of the defense and her testimony softened Mr. Hood enough to search out the school first aid kit and tend to Sally’s wounded knees with iodine and band aids. Sally liked the colourful band aids but gasped at the sight of the iodine but held back her tears when Mr. Hood daubed it on her wounds.

Target was no longer just a pleasant diversion but a part of their life who must be cared for. The first day of snow turned concern into a need for action. Target still camped out with Pop Keith but he kept threatening to send the dog back into the street. When the snow fell Glenda pleaded with him to keep Target for the winter.

“Why don’t one of you girlies take this Target dog home?”

“I couldn’t take him all the way out to the farm on the school bus and we already have a dog. Father would never allow another one,” Glenda explained.

“My mother’s allergic to almost any kind of fur or hair. Target wouldn’t get in the yard at my place,” was Sally’s excuse.

Pop peered down at the dog who returned the look with a tail wag, almost seemed to smile and licked the old man’s hand.

“Well we’re not supposed to have animals in the school but we might get away with it if he’ll stay down here in the furnace room. We’ve grown used to each other and I kind of enjoy the company.”

“Oh, thank you sir, Pop, sorry Mr. Keith,” both girls squealed. “We’ll come to see him every day, take him for walks and bring special treats.”

The old man smiled, “I like Pop.”

Glenda didn’t spend every day at lunch with Sally and Target. At least once a week she managed to persuade Mother of the need for something from the town.

Main Street was the hub of Grande, much like all small prairie towns. At the top end the highway ran by a couple of gas stations and motels in varying states of repair and disrepair that tried to survive from the ing parade. The town’s main industry, the railroad anchored the bottom end. In-between were a mixture of enterprises to serve the citizens of the town and surrounding farm community.

Glenda’s favorite was the drug store with a soda fountain that had spinning stools and magazines. She saved her money and sometimes with help from Mother managed to accumulate enough cash to treat herself to a root beer float once a month. The store’s real attraction was the magazine rack tucked in a back corner of the store. She knew she was sinning but the magnetism of the photo magazines that featured the human body pulled her in. When the only person you have ever seen naked is yourself, the pictures of women with fully formed breasts, round bellies and a slash of hair between their legs creates fascination beyond belief. She even practiced the poses at home when she knew Mother and Father were outside.

But what really widened her eyes were the pictures of naked men. She would close her eyes, gently run her fingers over the picture and wonder what it would feel like in the flesh.

Further along Main Street changed from what might be loosely called the commercial district of shops to what might be even more loosely called the entertainment district. This included the town’s two main restaurants and two hotels, each with a beer parlor that provided much more of the establishment’s revenue than ever came from the rooms. The district also included the pool hall, a dark, males’ only retreat, behind smoke stained windows. Glenda would sometimes venture as far as the pool hall to grasp a glimpse when the door opened and a male figure brushed past her. The shadowy unknown beyond the doors captivated her because she knew it forbidden ground.

Glenda discovered a new world of competition in Grade Six. Not the competition of running, jumping and throwing, all beyond her talents and interests. She entered the world of academic competition _ spelling, mathematics and science. A competitive arena that did not attract large numbers in Grande Public School but Glenda was without a doubt the most enthusiastic competitor.

Glenda entered the Grade Six spelling contest with four other students and after three rounds emerged the winner with a correct spelling of ‘complicity’. The original plan had been to have a contest for each grade and that would end it for the year. After watching Glenda’s performance in what some might say was an all too calculated act the principal announced what she called, ‘The Grand Spelloff’ to include the winners of grades Six, Seven and Eight.

Glenda greeted the announcement with excitement and anticipation. The other winners with trepidation since Glenda’s prowess had spread throughout the school. They were right. Glenda won after five rounds on the word evolutionary. The grade seven champion had been convinced the word included two ‘es’. Glenda had seen it written often enough in her reading of biology that she knew without a doubt that the word only had one ‘e’.

When Glenda took home her prize of an Oxford Concise Dictionary Father showed his first interest in the contest and asked for the winning word. He was not pleased what he learned. He said it was time Glenda stopped reading such nonsense that was not only blasphemous but obviously wrong.

Mathematics came next. In the first round Glenda and five boys solved problems set by the teachers. The four highest were then chosen for the final round. In the final round the students set the problems for their classmates. The winner was picked when one of them could answer all the problems before the other students. Glenda won easily.

Again the principal received a less than unanimous response when she declared a grand round for the winners of grade six, seven and eight. This time it was the format of students setting the questions for each other. Glenda walked over the two boys of grade seven and eight with ease. This time her prize was an abacus with ivory beads. Father found it much more to his liking.

Glenda’s final triumph was a science contest for the school district rather than just the school. She chose to display the evolution of the frog from the primeval slime to its present form. She had generated the idea form her reading of biology and what little she could learn about evolution from the books that could be kept at home and found in the high school library. She created a desktop display of plaster frogs in various stages of evolution emerging from a dank pond. Mother helped her make them and when Father asked what they were doing he was told making plaster frogs for school. A cursory glance convinced him that based on the ones closest to the pond Glenda should abandon any hope of making her way in the world as a sculptor.

When Glenda won for her group she and Mother decided not to share the good news with Father. However, the Principal was elated and sent home a letter of congratulations along with a recommendation to attend a summer science camp at the University of Saskatchewan. Mother was elated and Glenda overjoyed. It was more than she could have dreamed of. Father took one glance at the letter and brochure, slammed his hand on the table so the dishes jumped and said in a cold, barely audible voice that carried more weight than if he had shouted, “No.”

Mother continued to try and convince Father that they should encourage Glenda’s interest in science. He couldn’t fathom why. He saw Glenda’s future as married to a good young man from their church, who raised her children according to the true faith, at least one being the grandson he ached for. On occasion he did relent to the idea that she might be a teacher in Grande until she found a suitable husband, just like her mother. It must have been during such a moment that he gave in and let Mother use her egg money to buy Glenda a microscope for summer study.

Eighth

G lenda’s summer research project introduced her to the vagaries and uncertainty of the scientific search for truth. She hoped her new microscope would take her inside the reproductive process of frogs. Or as some might crudely put it, froggi e sex.

She collected the eggs from the slough of last year where she had her soaking and deeply personal erotic revelation. She slopped the eggs home in a leaky milk bucket for examination under her new microscope. On first inspection she managed, or at least thought she did, to detect some wiggling and jiggling in the tiny eggs. But on the second day the eggs went still.

She had heard that in high school frogs were dissected in a biology class to examine the internal organs. Maybe even sexual ones. But she had no idea where to start and was certain that Mother would never tolerate the use of her favorites knives to slice open the belly of any old dead frog.

She confided in Mother about her predicament who suggested a visit to the town library to search for new ideas. Mother dropped Glenda at the library while she shopped for denim patches to repair Father’s overalls.

Instead of flicking through the cards in the drawers that covered one wall Glenda meandered along the rows of books, her head tilted to one side to read the book spines. She ed the time with Father when she saw the bull in action and it prompted her to take down one about reproduction among mammals. The book had chapters on cattle, horses, dogs and cats and such but also on humans. She flipped through the book to find drawings and photos of she wasn’t sure

what. When she came to the human chapter she started to get an inkling because of the similarity to the photos that so fascinated her in the drug store. As she continued to flip pages her gaze stopped on a new phrase _ bestiality. She knew the word beast but never in this form. She read on and swallowed her tongue, Bestiality: ‘sexual relations between a human being and a lower animal.’ Unsure of herself or what to do Glenda slammed the book shut and searched the room to see if anyone had seen her. She decided her secret was safe, tucked the book under her arm and walked quickly out of the stacks.

“Got the one you want,” the librarian asked?

Glenda nodded and whispered, “Yes ma’am.” She ed the book to the librarian who stamped it without a look or a thought and handed it back. Luckily she had the foresight to bring her school bag along to hide the book from view.

Mother waited outside in the rusting half ton and asked, “Find anything of interest?”

Glenda nodded.

Good, we can look at it together at home.

Glenda’s knees shook.

Glenda was on dish drying duty that night. She polished and polished again each plate, saucer and cup. Mother asked if she was trying to remove the pattern.

Glenda hoped to delay showing Mother her new book. She even asked herself why she had been so stupid as to take it out of the library. Glenda thought if she took long enough over the dishes Mother would forget about the book or at least put it off until tomorrow because of lateness and Glenda’s bedtime. Mother intervened and quickly finished the drying. She then suggested they look at the book together. At least she agreed on the privacy of Glenda’s bedroom.

Mother looked at the title, ‘Reproduction in Mammals.’ “Thinking of going into the breeding business,” Mother asked?

Glenda explained she wanted to know how living creatures appeared on the earth and then grew into fully formed adults. She knew from the bible that God had created man but she wanted to know what has happened since the world has been turned over to God’s creatures. As Glenda finished her explanation Father appeared at the door, pipe in his left hand and the thumb of his right hand tucked around the strap of his overalls.

“I was just on my way to bed and wanted to say good night. What’s the new book?” He then reached out his right hand to Mother who had no choice but hand him the book.

Glenda turned white with horror when she saw one of her hairpins marking the page with the dreaded word. Father automatically turned to the marked page, his face turned as white as his forehead and then burst into a volcanic red. “Filth, how dare you bring this into my house? It goes back tomorrow and I’ll be the one taking it back even if it loses me a half day’s work. Mother, we’ll talk after you get the girl to bed. See that she seeks forgiveness in her prayers.” The book left under Father’s arm.

When Mother arrived in the bedroom Father was already in bed and she saw the

book lying face down on the dresser.

“I’m not sure what has got into that girl but it’s time you had a talk with her again about the facts of life, even though I think it is years ahead of the time. That girl must be reined in and I’ll leave it to you for now. But if I don’t see results I’m prepared to do my duty.”

Mother had no experience in talking about sexual matters to anyone, never mind her daughter. Her previous attempt had been a failure but she must try again. Neither her mother nor any female in the family ever told her about ‘the birds and the bees’. She understood the topic was covered in school, unlike in her day, but did not know when. The next morning she phoned her friend the principal who said the girls would have a film and a lecture on the subject sometime in the coming school year. She didn’t think much of the film and liked the idea that Mother was proceeding on her own. On the contrary, Mother didn’t like the idea at all and wished Glenda had already finished the session. Mother thought she might borrow the movie but knew that Father would never allow another blasphemy in the house.

Mother invited Glenda into the drawing room when she came in from milking. A part of the house that was reserved for rare and special occasions like birthdays, christenings and holy holidays. Glenda wasn’t sure what was up but she knew it must be of more than ing importance for Mother to invite her into the inner sanctum of the drawing room. She had last been there at Easter, sitting quietly in a corner studying as the adults, prayed, read the bible and slurped tea. She decided to sit quietly, listen and speak when spoken to.

Mother set out milk and slices of freshly baked raisin bread, still warm to the touch and spicy to the nose, to have with last year’s crab apple jelly. Mother also carried a book, found in the bottom of a trunk, the pages yellow and brittle. The book was illustrated with black and white line drawings to represent people in something approaching intimacy, if one didn’t look too close or wasn’t too

critical. Sort of a Kama Sutra for Fundamentalists. It bore the riveting title of, A Calvinist Introduction to Procreation in the Human Species. Even the most careful examination of the contents did not reveal the use of the word sex, and certainly not vagina, penis or intercourse, euphemisms ruled the page.

Glenda stifled a smile, even a giggle when she realized what was happening. Her knowledge of the subject matter was rudimentary and of the schoolyard with a little help from her secretive reading. What she learned in the schoolyard was secondhand eavesdropping on the older students. The typical story was along the lines of do you know where babies come from? Thought not. Followed by my older, brother/sister told me such and such. To be initially doubted until the story had been heard often enough it became common knowledge. So Glenda thought she had the basics down and was ready for some elaboration, of which Mother supplied not a word. And compared to what she had seen in her magazines the artless caricatures in Mother’s book embarrassed her as much as Mother, although Glenda didn’t realize the latter.

Mother proceeded in a clinical manner, not unlike how one might instruct a class on baking bread. Sort of instruction by the numbers. First this, then that and maybe one or two more things and if all went well it shouldn’t take too long, nor happen too often. And always with the lights out. From time to time Mother pointed to herself and to Glenda in the appropriate places to be sure she followed the lecture. Mother did contemplate removing some clothes for a more direct in the flesh reference but decided the embarrassment far outweighed the need. She also put aside any discourse on the wonders and problems of menstruation. Time enough for that unpleasantry when it happened. Mother finally turned the last yellow page of the book and folded up for burning the last of her sketches. To Mother’s relief Glenda had sat in silence enjoying her raisin bread and crab apple jelly. Against her better judgment Mother asked if Glenda had any questions and again to her relief Glenda shook her head and said, “Are we done now? Because I should go clean up my room.”

That night Mother and Father agreed that Glenda was growing and developing

much more quickly than they expected and certainly more than they liked. One of Father’s favorite sayings was, ‘Idle hands are the devils tools.’ They thought it best to distract her with added responsibility. She already had her own milking cow and probably could handle more. Father decided to let her accompany him to the fields to learn about the crops, what he planted, how and when to apply fertilizer and recognize the arrival of the harvest. All useful skills when she became a farm wife.

Mother tried to improve Glenda’s culinary skills beyond boiling an egg so it would not bounce to the ceiling and not to turn the toast into charcoal. She had little success until she learned to play to Glenda’s strength. Once Glenda started to think of the measuring, mixing and cooking as akin to a Chemistry experiment her eyes sparkled and her attention span stretched from seconds to minutes. However, the mysteries of sewing and mending never got further off the ground than manned flight attempts in pre - Wright brothers days. Glenda could neither cut, nor sew a straight seam and when it came to knitting the only stitch she mastered was the dropped stitch. In the end Mother adopted the path of least resistance and thought her time better spent in Father’s hands at animal husbandry and crop culture.

Going to the fields with Father gave Glenda her first lesson in time management. If she wasn’t in the truck, or on the tractor when he left she walked to the field. She also learned the importance of paying attention. Father expected that once was enough for explanation and example on how to do a job. If not he stepped in and did it himself. A job well done was rewarded with a brief tilt of his head. Despite everything Glenda did notice that what she learned from Father never left her. And she always tried her best to make up for the son God had taken from him.

Working together she saw her father in his element. He had always been the man at the dinner table, the man in his chair smoking a pipe and reading the bible, the man driving the truck and on the few times he spoke the stern disciplinarian. She now saw a hard working man, and when he twisted a posthole augur in the clay

ground or hoisted a bail of hay onto the truck the muscles of his arms popped out and the sinews down his back ran like steel railroad tracks. His face and arms were the sheen of polished mahogany that stood out in relief when he removed the cap from his blanched forehead. His once black thatch of hair had now thinned and lost colour but enough remained to attest to the original hue. He always wore the same type of overalls if not the same pair and the same sturdy work boots that were polished every Sunday. Father believed that if you didn’t raise a little sweat you hadn’t put in a real day of work. When they turned for home at the end of the day Glenda always knew from the sweet smell of fresh sweat that Father had put in a full day’s work. For the rest of her life that remained the smell of a real man.

She tried to spend as much time as possible with the animals. It is an area where Father had full confidence in her and she enjoyed many hours feeding, watching and grooming. Her only opportunity over the summer to indulge her interest in reproduction came when she happened upon the pigpen at exactly the right moment. The boar and a sow of his choice were locked in what to Glenda looked like combat. To Glenda the boar must have crept up on the poor unsuspecting sow and jumped her unawares. Her self-explanation was ed by the rutting, squealing and great roar from the boar at the end. Glenda still couldn’t connect such behavior to humans.

Glenda continued to be entranced by changes to her body. Now she found the fine strands of hair in her groin growing and thickening. And when she stroked her chest the once tiny buds developed aspects of nipples that went erect and thrilled with pleasure.

The major catastrophe of the summer came during hay baling. Father was tinkering under the tractor and Glenda squatted down to try and see what he was doing. Her full attention was on her father until a warm dampness covered her groin. Father slid out from under the tractor and gasped. A large bloodstain spread across the front of Glenda’s overalls. Without a word he rushed her into the truck and lurched and swayed over the rutted dirt trail. When he reached the

lane to the house he leaned on the horn. Mother jumped down the steps, two at a time, missing the last one and fell against the truck. Father hurried Glenda from the truck and shouted, “If it’s not what I think it is we better rush her to hospital.”

Mother led Glenda into the bathroom for a cleanup and the start of the explanation she knew had to come but hoped would have waited longer since their recent discussion of reproduction seemed so like yesterday. Mother retrieved another book from her steamer trunk, illustrated in black and white line sketches. She knew more recent books existed with colored pictures but she thought them too racy, in fact close to, if not actually pornographic.

Glenda sat in silent but rapt attention as Mother used a pencil to point out what was what and why in the sketch of what she called the ‘womanly apparatus’. She quickly moved to the matter of immediate importance that she called the womanly curse or period. Curse, a most appropriate term Glenda thought given the grief she had gone through. She did ask why it was called a period. Mother had no answer so for now Glenda accepted what she was told. Mother also covered with a demonstration while fully clothed how Glenda must deal with the problem when it appeared.

When it sounded like Mother had run out of anything more to say, Glenda asked if she could read the book. Mother agreed on condition that Father must now think the matter had been settled for all time and he would never again be surprised with what he didn’t understand and didn’t want to. Glenda did notice the age of the book but knew she could find more recent references in the town library and maybe even among her favored source of magazines at the drug store. Glenda needed no further evidence that human reproduction would be a more fruitful and entertaining line of inquiry than the animal kingdom.

A week before school started Glenda made the regular and obligatory trip to town to get outfitted for the coming school year. That meant all the usual books,

pens, pencils, erasers and whatever else happened to be on the school list for the year. This year, for the first time, she could choose any book she wanted that was not a textbook. More than anything she wanted a copy of The Origin of the Species but knew better. Mother did say any book but Glenda wasn’t so stupid to think that meant ANY book. After a discussion with the town librarian she settled on Brave New World, by Aldus Huxley. She wasn’t sure what she was getting into but looked forward to reading it. Mother was surprised at the choice but held her silence. She had suggested Gulliver’s Travels and thought she had won the day until Glenda decided it was too much of a fairy tale. Father only read the bible but liked what he thought was Huxley’s heroic title and even expressed an interest in taking a look at the book one day. Glenda read the book in one sitting and decided it best if Father did not get his hands on it.

For Glenda the most important part of the shopping trip was buying new clothes. She asked Mother if she could finally dress more like the other kids in jeans and tee shirts or casual shirts. Mother said she would ask Father and returned with the expected, No. Glenda was unsure if Mother really had the courage to raise the issue but knew it would be futile to pursue the matter further. Father held that the proper attire for women in public was a modest dress from neck to ankle and of course covered arms. Pants, shirts and jeans were appropriate when working but not in polite society. Glenda knew with certainty that the subject of the tittering she heard when she first walked into class would be herself.

Glenda met her friend Millie the bus driver on the first day of school wearing her new pale blue gingham dress, black buckle shoes and hair twisted into two braids. Glenda looked forward to seeing Millie and hear her stories of the exotic destinations she had traveled to during the summer. It was as close as Glenda got to experience any of the world beyond the farm and Grande.

“My, aren’t you cute,” Millie said as Glenda stepped onto the bus.

Glenda gritted her teeth and asked, “What great places did you visit this

summer.”

“The Rockies. We climbed Mount Robson, canoed around Maligne Lake, rode over the Columbia ice fields in the most enormous caterpillar tractor and for a special second honeymoon treat my husband put us up for two nights in the chateau at Lake Louise. Our room looked right at the lake and glacier. It was the most romantic time of my life. And in Banff he bought me a real, genuine Hudson’s Bay blanket coat. It will be perfect for driving come winter. What did you do?”

“Farmed,” Glenda replied.

“That’s OK,” Millie said, “your day will come.”

“It will, I’ll see to it,” Glenda said to herself and turned to look at the ing fields of golden wheat and sun bright canola.

The bus soon filled up. Margaret climbed aboard looking two sizes larger than last year. Now that Glenda had moved on in school she and Margaret had settled into an undeclared but fully understood truce.

Glenda stepped off the bus with a slight feeling of a new confidence, maybe brought on by the hormonal changes she had been experiencing. It was more of an internal feeling than one she exhibited in class. She took her usual place at the front of the classroom, this year near the entrance and even said hello to some of the students as they came in rather than stare at a picture in a science book. She even found the courage to say hello to a new boy called Donald. His returning smile helped her decide to seek him out at lunch.

When the lunch bell rang Glenda waited at her desk until Donald came by. She barely managed to mumble, “Wanna sit outside for lunch.”

“Huh, you say something,” Donald asked?

“Yeah, I can show you a nice place outside for lunch if you want.”

The departure was watched from the back of the room by a girl with shoulder length blond hair, trim blue jeans and an orange tee shirt with a black cat on the front in full stretch. She also wore a hint of pink lipstick and dangly earrings. The only girl in class to be so daring. Her real name was Daphne but she preferred Foxy, the tag her friends bestowed on her.

Glenda led Donald to the old bench near the caragana bushes where Sally and Target sat waiting. Sally jumped and waved and Target ran up to Glenda nosing at the lunch box in her hand.

“Who’s your friend,” Sally shouted?

Glenda introduced Sally and Target and recounted how Target had saved their lives.

Donald told them he came from a town in Manitoba where his father had been the assistant manager of a lumberyard. The move to Grande was a step up for him to the position of manager.

Glenda and her troupe shared lunch for the rest of the first week of school. She even started to bring extra cookies for Donald. Glenda now looked forward to school with a new interest. She did notice that sometimes Daphne would walk slowly past Donald’s desk and smile at him. She also saw them walking out of the schoolyard together one day as her bus turned toward the highway. But as long as Donald continued to come to lunch she didn’t mind.

On Monday Glenda packed a cupcake she had made herself and decorated with pink icing and the letter D in silver sprinkles. She waved and smiled to Donald at the back of the room. He waved back, but no smile. Glenda looked at her watch to see how many hours and minutes until lunch. For the first time in her life she failed an answer to a math problem when called upon.

Finally, the two hands on the clock met and the lunch bell rang. Glenda stood by the door waiting for Donald. She reached out to him but he kept his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry, I’m having lunch with Daphne today. She took me to a Saturday matinee and bought me an ice cream float after at the drug store. Nobody ever treated me like that before. She says if I want to keep having that kind of fun I can’t have lunch with anyone but her.”

Donald might as well have punched her in the gut. She didn’t breathe again until she fell sobbing into Sally’s arms. Between sobs Glenda finally told Sally what Donald had done. “The prick,” Sally said and held Glenda tighter. Glenda finally managed a smile when she saw how her true friend Target enjoyed the cupcake.

Glenda couldn’t face the classroom and complained of a pain in her stomach that

let her escape onto a couch in the staff room. The teacher hadn’t hesitated when she saw Glenda’s face drained of all color. When the buses arrived Glenda was first on board and leaned her head against the window, eyes closed. She opened them with the motion of the bus pulling away in time to see Donald and Daphne walk out of school, hand-in-hand.

The next morning Glenda pleaded with Mother to stay home. Mother of course asked why and Glenda couldn’t give her the true reason and didn’t want to be caught in a lie. She knew that if Father found out she had even been thinking of boys the result would not be to her liking. Failing an acceptable excuse Glenda finally relented and walked slowly down the lane to the waiting bus.

She hid in the girl’s room until she knew everyone would be seated. She couldn’t bear watching Donald and Daphne walk past her desk. She arrived in class a second before the teacher closed the door. Only once did she look back to see Daphne sitting beside Donald. She must have bought off the boy who used to sit beside Donald.

The crying stopped that night. Daphne had taught her a lesson. To get what you want go with your strength. Glenda wanted out. Out of the farm. Out of Grande. Out to where she did not know. She just knew that there must be more to experience than she ever dreamed of. Daphne had beauty and money. Glenda had brains and grit.

The school became a resource for Glenda’s own ends. She had heard of school competitions around the province and even within the country and beyond for mathematics and science. Glenda planned to become the school champion.

On the weekend after milking, Glenda wanted to tell Mother of her plans.

Instead Mother made the first move.

“Glenda, darling, you are so good with the animals, Father and I are thinking of letting you the local Four-H.”

Glenda gasped in horror. Four-H clubs meant agriculture, which meant farm, which meant stuck in the mud of life where she now resided.

It took all of Glenda’s courage to blurt out, “I’m already in a club, or soon will be.”

“What kind of club, I didn’t hear about it,” said Father who had just appeared in the kitchen.

“A math and science club that I will start so we can go into competition with other schools. I know I can win.”

“I think Four-H would give you better preparation for a future on the farm. Besides it could take time from your real studies,” Father replied.

“No, Father it would help me in my studies. I’d learn a whole lot of new things that I want to know about but aren’t covered in class.”

Mother gently interjected, “Father, she seems really interested, let’s give her a chance and we’ll keep an eye on her report card.”

“Ganging up on me again,” Father grumped before seeking the refuge of his pipe, chair and bible.

The next morning Glenda made an announcement in class and with the principal’s permission put a notice on the school information board. The class sat in silence at first until one boy at the back, known more for his athletic prowess than his academic accomplishments asked, “You mean you want us to spend time on math and science outside of what we’re forced to do in class?”

The class laughed as one.

While Mr. Stuart rattled his pointer on the desk for order Glenda crumpled into her seat, her hands covering a burning face.

Mr. Stuart stopped Glenda on her way out at lunch. “I’m sorry Glenda, I think you had a good idea but you have to understand what you’re dealing with. I do have a suggestion for you. I’m the faculty advisor for the student paper that comes out every two months. Maybe you’d like to think of writing something for us?”

Glenda broke into a smile, “Yes, Mr. Stuart I think I would. Thank you.”

Glenda’s first column was due by mid-October and then four more for the rest of

the year. She had no idea yet what to write but planned an information article on science and a math puzzle at the end with a prize to the winner. The answers would be printed in the following edition.

When Glenda arrived home that night the first thing she told Mother over her glass of buttermilk and warm sugar cookies was about the school paper.

Mother’s burst out in a broad smile but all she said was, “And what is the topic of your first column.”

“I don’t know yet,” Glenda replied.

“How about something you know about, or something you’d like to know more about?”

Glenda slipped into thoughtful silence. She knew about frogs and farm animals but wanted to know more about sex and evolution. She’d have to think more but not too much more. She only had a month to produce her first article.

Glenda had now reached an age where she could go into town without the obligatory note from home. The town had become as rich an education as her schoolbooks. The photography books on the magazine rack of the drug store drew her in as much as ever. She never tired of sneaking a quick peek at the unclothed human body. She longed to buy one for serious and intensive study but dared not for fear Mother, or even worse, Father would find out and that would be the end to solo trips along the wonders of Main Street.

The pool hall and the cigar store always attracted her attention. If she jumped up just a little she could see through the smoke dulled windows of the cigar store to see gray haired men smoking pipes and cigars in lively conversation. Sometimes she saw boys from high school smoking cigarettes out of sight of disapproving parents. The window displayed a number of magazines, many of which she did not find in the family oriented drug store. They mostly had to do with sports and crime stories with titles like True Crime and True Detective and sketches on the cover of someone sneaking through darkened streets or a woman being grabbed from behind, a knife at her throat. The magazine that most intrigued Glenda carried the title of Police Gazette with a cover emblazoned in promises of articles about murders, sports, especially boxing and women that Mother would have described as the unfortunate fallen ones.

The day she met Sammy Caw, mostly known as the Crow, marked a turn in Glenda’s practical education. Sammy was the town’s odd jobs man. He would turn his hand to almost anything outdoors. He might have been willing to work indoors too but his personal hygiene habits meant that most people preferred to keep the Crow beyond the front step. He still found enough lawns to mow, walks to shovel clear of snow and fences to paint. He also supplemented his income with a keen eye in scavenging beer bottles from the ditches near town. He carried them home in gunnysacks draped across the fenders of his old black bike.

“Hey girlie, lookin’ fer yer old man, or yer boyfriend?”

That’s how Glenda first met the Crow. He caught her jumping up to peek in the cigar store window.

“No sir,” Glenda murmured so low she had to repeat herself. “I just wondered what goes on inside. My mother calls it a den of iniquity.”

“In who?”

“Bad place,” Glenda explained.

“Naw, it ain’t so bad, mostly a buncha old farts smokin’ and bull shitting and a few young buggers doin’ the same ’cause they ain’t allowed to at home. Also takin’ a peek at the girlie mags that they cain’t have at home, although their old man most likely has some hidden in the garage.”

Glenda had more than a little trouble deciphering what the Crow had just said. She knew the words but not the translation. She had seen a bull with Father and heard the word that came after in the schoolyard but the two together might as well have been a foreign language. Bugger and fart she also heard at school and knew without asking that they belonged on the banned list at home. In time she learned the meaning from the Crow and many more words condemned to the list of the banned.

“Want me to take ya’ in and introduce you around. Most of them are nice old granddaddies. By the way, me name’s not sir, call me Sammy or like most folk, Crow.”

Glenda stepped back and shook her head, even though she wanted to say yes.

“Come roun’ back with me and you can get a better look inside. Old Jack Millar is going to give me some of last month’s magazines.”

“Give them to you, like no charge,” an astounded Glenda asked?

“Ya, he rips off the covers for a refund from the magazine guys and sells them cheap but he’s good to me and I get ’em free.”

The Crow opened the back door wide enough for Glenda to see three older men hidden in a cloud of smoke leaning against a glass counter in front of shelves filled with magazines. A knock on the door raised the old man behind the counter out of his chair and shuffled to the back door, the butt end of a smoking cigar perilously close to his nicotine stained moustache. He handed the Crow a bundle of magazines and inquired out of the corner of his mouth, “Robbing the cradle Crow?”

“Glenda, meet a different Millar, this one’s called Jack. Jack, Glenda here’s from the farm but likes to read too, got anything a little different for her Jack?”

Jack removed the cigar to save his moustache, looked around and picked out two magazines for Glenda and said, “You look old enough for these.”

Glenda thanked Jack who said to think nothing of it and if she wanted she could come by about this time every month to get the latest discards. She followed the Crow down the alley looking at the table of contents to see what she had been given. One was called True Romance and the other Cosmopolitan. They had stories with titles like, ‘What My Father Did to Me’ and ‘How to Make Him Come Back for More’. Glenda turned red enough for Sammy to ask where the sunburn had come from. Glenda didn’t answer but recovered to ask what Sammy had in his bundle.

He handed Glenda the bundle to see for herself. She recognized a Police Gazette and some magazines about crime stories that didn’t interest her. However, the title of Playboy and the contents reddened her face again. She gaped in awe at the centre fold. Where did women like that come from? Although she wondered what happened to the pubic hair. It was still the days of airbrushing out the more delicate parts.

“I see that one caught yer fancy, y’er a real sleeper kiddo. Come by next week when I’m done and I’ll trade for the ones you got.” And so a remarkable friendship was formed, grounded in a shared literary interest.

Glenda now had a problem of nontrivial proportions. Where to hide her new found wealth. In her bedroom, in the barn, in an old hollow tree she knew of? She finally settled on under a loose board at the back of her closet.

She did not encounter the Crow for another week and this time most unexpectedly when she saw him at the entrance to the alley behind the pool hall. He took a swig from a small bottle that he returned to a right rear pocket and started to pull down the zipper at the front of his pants. He disappeared into the alley and Glenda thought to follow him. Fortunately, caution overcame impulse and she waited a few moments before moving forward.

The Crow was searching through the pool hall garbage bin for whatever treasures had ed the eagle eye of the proprietor. Small chance of that. Bignuts Branigan squeezed every penny until the Queen threatened to abdicate in self-defense. Although it took some time before the Crow filled Glenda in on Bignuts resume.

“Bitch,” The Crow kicked the garbage bin in disgust at his failed treasure hunt and saw Glenda when he turned to stomp off. “Sorry young lady, I didn’t mean

you. I didn’t even know you were there. What ya’ doin’ lurking in the slums?”

“Is it that bad around here,” Glenda asked.

“Not really, but you never see respectable ladies hanging out behind the pool hall. Hell, some won’t even be seen outside the front door.”

At that time two men came out the backdoor, a little uncertain of step and headed in the direction of one of the local hotels, known more for the beer parlor than a place of accommodation.

Before the door closed Glenda caught a glimpse of several long tables covered in a green cloth and men leaning over the table, long poles in their hand. The Crow said that maybe one day he could take her in the front door and buy her a pop but not for a year or two. Glenda’s was learning some of the negative rules of being a female in a small prairie town.

In the past, on Saturday night shopping trips into Grande, Glenda never strayed from mother’s side. Her normal routes of travel had been confined to the grocery store, drug store, Chinese café and the family truck. Now as she had added a couple of years she contrived to snatch moments of liberty. She used her time to explore down streets she had not known before, such as past hotel beer parlors and streets leading off Main Street. She carefully peered into some of the parked vehicles and found couples locked in an embrace, or tilting small brown bottles or sometimes larger clear ones. When she mentioned it to Sammy he ed if off as nothing more than a normal Saturday night of boozing and necking, or maybe more. Glenda dared not ask.

The deadline was at hand for Glenda to submit her science column to the school paper. So far her intellectual pursuits all turned up a blind alley. At church on Sunday she had turned to prayer. That effort produced the same result but she found the germ of an idea in the church newsletter. It included an article on a never ending drought in Africa with pictures of barren fields, emaciated people, babies with flies crawling around their eyes and bloated cattle lying dead in the fields. Glenda wondered what her world would look like if it experienced such a drought.

Glenda thought about the idea for the rest of Sunday and how such a condition might come about. Then the idea hit her. What if something catastrophic happened, like a meteor crashing into the earth that reversed the weather so the Arctic warmed up, all the ice disappeared and so did the water supply for the farmland of the prairies? You could hike along the dry riverbeds. The editors of the newspaper thought it rather fanciful but still entertaining enough to print.

Glenda developed the idea for her science project competition. She built a three dimensional model of Canada’s geography using paper-mache, plasticine and plaster of paris. The model showed what had been ice was now green and what had been green was now barren desert. Her entry finished first out of three competitors in her area and she won a trip to tour the university in Saskatoon.

The trip included the other contest winners from the province and was held on a Saturday. The trip required an adult chaperone. Father reluctantly agreed but only if Mother went as the chaperone. Mother jumped at the chance but Father declined on grounds of work. Actually, he felt the university was a place too much out of his realm of familiar comfort. Mother had spent a year at the university after one year at Teacher’s College, or what they called Normal School in her day. She had wanted to continue at university for a degree in Education but lacked the money. Her plan had been to teach for a couple of years to save the money and return for her degree. Instead she married father and ended her dreams for a career in education.

The university had transformed beyond recognition since Mother’s brief age through campus several years ago. To Glenda all was new and she walked in awe from building to building. The highlight for Mother was the Faculty of Education and she assured Glenda that before long she would be one of the students in the hallway. Glenda found the Science buildings of greater interest. The labs fascinated her the most with the equipment, glassware and cabinets full of mysterious potions and solutions. She made a quiet promise to herself that somehow she would contrive to make sure that at such time as she arrived at the university Science would be her home. She also wondered how other universities looked compared to this one in Saskatoon.

Glenda continued her environmental disaster theme in her remaining columns of the school newspaper. It earned her the title Doomsday Queen. At least it was recognition.

She also noticed that Donald and the Foxy lady no longer shared space as if ed by Krazy Glue. She conned Sally the spy into finding out the cause. Sally reported that Foxy had dumped Donald after a high school boy with a car started picking her up after school.

“Do you think he’ll ask you to graduation now,” Sally asked?

“I hope so, just so I can turn him down,” Glenda replied. Although Glenda was not convinced she would, even if given the chance.

As it turned out Foxy came to the graduation to show off her ‘older’ date and Donald hid his face at home. Glenda wanted to stay home too and had Father’s . But Mother won the day. The family showed up together. Father in his now too tight wedding suit, Mother in her best of Sunday dress and Glenda in a brand new navy blue dress that covered up her developing figure. Glenda hated

the color and had wanted a cute little, more figure hugging, pink dress that she saw in a magazine Jack Millar gave her. Mother liked it too but knew it would never Father’s inspection.

If the choice of valedictorian had been based on grades Glenda would have won, no contest. But that was not the way of the school. Instead the students did the picking and in this game, Glenda had no chance and knew it. Foxy might have been the valedictorian if she hadn’t dumped Donald so now the second best looking girl in class won the honour.

Glenda asked to go home immediately after the ceremony but Mother insisted they look in at the school dance. Father waited outside in the truck after imposing a one hour limit on the unnecessary dancing. All the girls at the dance had a date except her and Sally. The two of them sat at a corner table, each sucking on a straw in a bottle of orange crush. On the other side of the room a clutch of students pointed and chuckled at the two solitary girls. One of them said, “See, I told you they weren’t normal”.

Graduation was the last time Glenda ever saw Sally. Sally’s father worked for the town istration and the auditors found he had been more than careless in his control of some financial records. The family left town at night, never to be seen again. It came to light in time that this disappearing act was one of his chief skills.

On the last day of school Glenda dropped in to say good-bye to Pop Keith until school reopened. She learned it would be good-bye forever. Pop was going to retire to Vancouver Island to be near his grandson. He wanted to take Target with him for company and asked Glenda for her OK. Of course yes was the only answer possible.

High school would be like starting all over for Glenda.

Ninth

G lenda started high school with a single goal in mind. Finish at the top of her class and move on to university packing a scholarship large enough to her let her live the life style of her dreams. She viewed high school as an unavoidable stepping stone to this magical future; to move on and up from a life on the farm, or almost as bad, in the town of Grande. University would let her escape both and while at university live an independent life beyond the reach of her solicitous mother and ever on guard f ather.

To realize her dream meant an unbroken string of As. That would not be a problem. What would threaten diversion were the continual stirrings in her body and mind as she developed into a mature young woman.

High school started, as had every other school year in Glenda’s life. Listening in rapt attention to Millie recount her summer travels. It gave Glenda a vicarious connection to the wider world. Millie bubbled over recounting her first trip outside of Canada. Her eldest son had moved away for his first job and relieved Millie and her husband of enough of a financial obligation they could afford a week long trip to London, England.

They stayed in an itty bitty hotel near the British Museum. Millie said her broom closet is almost as big as the bedroom and the last time she slept on a bed so skinny was at Girl Guide camp. She and her husband had to coordinate every change of position or trip to the bathroom. But she didn’t mind because they spent most of their time outside exploring, even in the rain.

Glenda took notes as Millie told her of the changing of the guard at Buckingham

Palace, climbing the Tower of London, crossing London Bridge and of even more interest the plays in the West End and lunching every day in a different pub. Millie also told of taking the train to Oxford and walking through the old colleges and how some dated back to the thirteenth century. Millie finally had to end her story when she stopped to let the next student onto the bus. Glenda had a careful set of notes to add to the folder she was preparing for her future life.

Glenda noticed a number of absentees from previous years. Former students who decided they had enough school to last them a lifetime. Among the missing, the dreaded Margaret was most prominent. Glenda wondered what future awaited the semi-literate Margaret. But she didn’t wonder for long because she didn’t really care.

Glenda recognized most of the students in her class with the townies outnumbering the bus riders. She faced her first crisis on the first day. Chemistry came up in the second period and they assembled in the school lab. Each student had to be paired up with a lab partner. The pairing followed the usual pattern with most of it settled beforehand based on past, or hoped for friendships. However, a small band of the unattached always remained for assignment by the teacher. Glenda scanned the leftovers and noticed they consisted of the academically challenged. She had no interest in carrying any of the dumb or dumber group. A single boy scraping his foot across the floor and avoiding eye with anyone attracted her attention. Glenda didn’t recognize him but thought the unknown couldn’t be worse than the well known gathered around her. Besides, he looked like the type to follow orders. She put on her best smile and said, “Hi, my name’s Glenda, what’s yours?”

“Eric.”

“Want to be my lab partner?”

“Sure, why not”

And so the bonds of friendship were knotted.

Eric had just moved to Grande with his mother who now taught grade four in the public school. A male influence in his life never entered the conversation. His mother had been teaching in a much smaller town south of Regina. She had been looking for a larger place so Eric could be in a reasonably well equipped high school. She had no idea he would become so lucky as to team up with the genius of Grande High.

Eric had fine sandy hair that already showed hints that one day very little would be left. His fair complexion advised him never to venture out on a sunny day without some form of headgear. However, his blue eyes sparkled and quietly took in much of the world around him. He was slender and on the short side. Not what you’d call diminutive but never someone who would be a physical presence. He had a fragility about him that some women want to cuddle and protect. Later in life he learned how to turn it to his advantage.

Eric never spoke first. He only spoke when he felt confident of himself and the situation. But he had the insight that standing out was not always necessary to get ahead in life. He would never be the star of any sports team but he did very well by volunteering to be the team manager. Somebody had to look after the istrivia of bookings, transportation and getting the team on sight at the right time with all the necessary equipment. And the team very much appreciated Eric when he did so. In the end Eric was someone you could count on and people knew it.

Glenda and Eric quickly recognized their academic compatibility. Eric’s reliability and ready presence gave her a feeling of comfort to move ahead with

confidence. Glenda’s quick mind and analytic incisiveness gave Eric the comfort that they were headed in the right direction. Their partnership that began in the Chemistry lab was immediately applied to Physics and Biology.

Working together Eric and Glenda set the standard for lab work to the helpless chagrin of their classmates. If it had been a business situation the duo would have been broken up on the grounds of unfair competition.

Glenda and Eric also had a shared and equal ion for math. Glenda readily noticed his talent, especially an uncanny ability to jump several steps to a quick resolution of complex problems.

In non-science subjects their interests diverged. Eric preferred History that dealt with social trends and politics like the Great Depression and how the last election was won and lost. Glenda easily became engrossed in topics that swept across a grand landscape and led to global change. She found her greatest interest in the civilizations of Greece, Rome, even the violence of Attila and latterly the Ottomans and then the great European powers as their strength and influence waxed and waned from the Dutch, the Spanish, the French and of course her favorite because of family ethnic ties, the British Empire.

In leisure reading Eric leaned to science fiction and anything written after Hemingway. For Glenda her preference was in history and romance. With her connections to the cigar store in town she soon became an avid reader of Harlequin romance when Jack Millar was ready to remove covers and consign such works to the scrap heap. Glenda of course read them in quiet seclusion at home. Often hidden inside the covers of a Jane Austen novel.

Glenda knew that grades alone would not move her to the top of the scholarship heap. It would be necessary to demonstrate skill and creativity outside of the

classroom but she must pick areas where she was sure to succeed. She planned to continue writing a science column for the school paper and even see if she could place some of her work in outlets outside the school with a wider audience. He major effort would be to continue competing in science contests starting locally and building to a national level and who knows if not beyond.

Without really thinking about it she had expected to enter the competitions alone but as the year progressed and she saw the benefit of working with Eric she invited him on board. He accepted her invitation without a moment’s thought and so the partnership grew.

Glenda maintained her interest in the application of evolution to understand what a future world might look like and how to achieve it. She thought such an approach would help in uncovering the genetic source of various maladies such as cancer and Alzheimer’s.

Her latest effort showed how the mutation of known genes would lead to new forms of cancer and what needed to be done to develop a cure, or at least something that arrested the spread of the cancer. Working with Eric they developed a mathematical model to predict the growth rate of the cancer and the subsequent life expectancy.

The competition was local to Saskatchewan with a first prize of $100 and a tour of the university in Saskatoon. Glenda and Eric won easily but only one person could make the trip. Glenda had already done so but Eric never had. They split the money and he went to Saskatoon. Glenda was not entirely consumed with altruism, she wanted to be first in line for any trips further afield.

Glenda had other plans for the weekend. She had been fascinated by one of the stories in a magazine Jack Miller donated for her street education. The story

involved a woman who unexpectedly found herself a widow. Her husband learned the hard way that skydiving with a faulty parachute has unfortunate consequences. Seeking a complete change of scene she took a job as the sole teacher in a lonely arctic outpost. The solitude brought peace and a welcome relief from the demands of others. The first sign of a mental return to the outside world came with dreams of sexual exploration with her husband. As a substitute she masturbated and translated the dreams into fantasies. In time she experimented with a variety of aids such as vibrators and dildos. Before he died she and her husband had discussed the possibility of engaging in couples or group sex. His ing didn’t allow for the inevitable final step. After extending her fantasies to other men the woman moved on to multiple partners of both genders.

Glenda considered the story a training manual. When the house fell dark and still she tried to imitate what she read. Often as she reached climax and trembled all over she buried her face in a pillow to stifle the moans in fear of waking her parents. When her mentor moved on to mechanical aids Glenda longed to follow. The magazine d a variety of sex aids and toys available by mail order but to what address without her parents finding out?

One day on a visit to the cigar store to pick up more magazines she found Sammy Caw shuffling down the alley. They hadn’t seen each other in a couple of weeks so they had a lot to catch up on. Glenda told Sammy about school, Eric and winning the science competition. The Crow said he had finished a couple of jobs that provided him with enough money to bankroll a lost weekend. He still trembled from the effects. When the time came to go their separate ways Glenda hit on the idea of asking if she could use the Crow’s address to receive a parcel. Sammy said of course and Glenda used her science competition money to order a vibrator. The parcel had now arrived. She had great plans for the weekend.

Glenda met Sammy at lunch on Friday. He turned down her offer to buy him lunch, as expected. Sammy prefers booze to food any day but Glenda could not buy liquor for him so she gave him enough money to buy a mickey of rye.

Although she had learned he would most likely buy vanilla extract because he could get more of it. More bang for your buck he liked to say.

“What’s in the package,” Sammy asked?

“None of your beeswax,” Glenda replied.

“Aw, come on, you know I like to keep tabs on what you’re up to.”

“No you don’t, you’re just an old busy body and town gossip. But if you must know its stuff for a science project.”

The word science ended the inquisition immediately. Sammy felt the money burning a hole in his pocket and he knew just the place to end the problem. He said good-by and shuffled off to the grocery store with the cheapest vanilla extract.

Glenda stuffed the package in her school bag and raced back to slump behind her math book before the teacher arrived. He stopped at Glenda’s desk to point out she held the book upside down. Her bag rested carefully hidden under her desk. She had a fearful image of some student flashing the contents of her parcel before the class. Glenda knew exactly how and where to spend the weekend.

Saturday morning after breakfast Glenda told her family she wanted to go down to the slough and pick some leaf samples for a class project. He father would have preferred she change into her working clothes and help him clean the barn.

Mother intervened and said school came first. Father grumped, scraped his chair across the kitchen floor and let the door slam on his way to the barn.

Glenda returned from her room with a bag to collect the samples. Mother asked if she needed company. Glenda twisted her neck to hide her reddening face and said she wouldn’t be long. She went down the steps, two at a time and dashed across the yard.

The sun was high in the sky playing hide and seek behind the clouds. A day very much like the one several years earlier when almost by accident she had her first sensual, no, sexual experience. She often thought of returning to see if a repeat performance would equal the first time. Now she anticipated even greater delights.

Wicked Wanda, is the name in red letters on the box and along the barrel of Glenda’s new toy. She nestled in the familiar grove, pulled up her skirt and pulled down her panties. She turned on the vibrator and started to slowly run it up her leg. It felt cool and hard against her warm thigh. Then she stopped, stood up, looked around carefully to ensure her solitude and stripped naked. She turned on the vibrator again stroking it along her body. Sometimes firmly, almost to the point of pain and sometimes feather light.

Instead of slavishly following one of the episodes in the story she created her own fantasy. She returned once more to a time when she rode a white horse with her hero Terry. They galloped across the field, her arms squeezing the rippling muscles of his chest. They both rode naked. The vibrator became Terry until she exploded and her voice rang out in celebration of her new found pleasure.

Glenda knew she could never risk using the vibrator in the house when her parents were home. Instead she became a frequent visitor to the hayloft when she

couldn’t come up with an excuse to visit her favorite place beside the slough. And she became adept at manufacturing excuses to stay home alone while both her parents were occupied outside the house.

At first her fantasies only involved male partners and usually Terry in the leading role. But one day her magazine heroine climbed into bed with a woman she met on a bus. At first Glenda felt a great sense of betrayal. Her reaction then turned into one of curious fascination and she reread the story several times. A woman named Harriet entered her clandestine fantasy world.

Glenda could no longer imagine a life without the arousal of her vibrator. She read of other types of vibrators and sex toys and started saving money from her egg collection to buy more. Other thoughts also entered her fertile mind. Replacing her vibrator with a real cock attached to a real man came to the forefront. Unfortunately none of the men in her life qualified.

Sammy Caw was interesting to talk to and full of lively stories but he rarely washed, so you had to stand down wind in his company. He was too old anyway. Eric qualified on age and might be persuaded, seduced would be a more accurate word, but he didn’t quite measure up either. His slim build and slight stature didn’t fit Glenda’s image of her first sex partner. She had in mind someone taller, stronger and even a bit dominant. Her father came the closest of all the men she knew but the idea so repelled her she was ashamed of herself to think it.

In all matters academic no one touched Glenda. In all else she was missing or on the periphery. She did write her science column for the high school paper that published three times a year but it was always questionable who read it. If the biology teacher had not been the staff adviser for the paper the column may well have been dropped. In any event it never generated any letters of or contradiction.

Being an outsider Glenda did not get to participate in the high school extracurricular activities with the other students. The maturing and experimenting in the non-academic world was not part of her high school experience. For her no parties, no drinking and necking or beyond in parked cars and no experimenting with illegal substances of any sort. She knew about them because she saw some of the students smoking cigarettes in the schoolyard and according to Eric pot as well.

Eric became her primary source of information for a vicarious life. His role as the manager for the high school athletic teams put him on the inside to know who was going with whom, who was sleeping with whom, which girls put out and which ones were only a tease. He also learned the important necessities of high school life such as how and where to obtain pot and alcohol and how much it cost and if a person needed a condom, or safe as Eric called it, the best place to escape detection was the pool hall.

Sammy was another source of information. Glenda knew that Sammy would drink anything as long as it had alcohol in it. Finally, Glenda’s curiosity got the better of her and she asked Sammy about his drinking habit. More like a problem she thought.

“The elixir of life. It keeps me stable and stops me from committing homicide or suicide. It is the only way I know to survive in this rat hole town at the end of the universe.”

Glenda doubted Sammy’s life was that desperate, although she really didn’t know much about him. But she thought anything so wonderful must be worth trying.

“What are you drinking today,” she asked?

Sammy pulled out a mickey sized bottle and said, “Today, the good stuff, straight rye.”

Glenda held out a hand and said, “Give me a sip.”

“You want a swig? OK. Make it a good one.”

Sammy twisted off the cap and handed Glenda the bottle. She held it gingerly to her lips and barely tilted the bottle.

“Quit pissing around and get on with it. Here, I’ll show you.”

The last thing Glenda wanted to see were the Crow’s lips wrapped around the neck of the bottle, even though she knew they’d been there already. It’s just that sometimes you can accept things, or at least tolerate them, if they go on unseen.

Glenda grabbed the bottle in both hands, inhaled deeply and took a swig. Her tongue ignited. She tired to spew it out but half burned down her throat and into her guts. She hacked and convulsed and her head went into a spin. Sammy caught her and saved his precious bottle as her knees buckled. He settled her on a box until she caught her breath and recovered enough to utter a few words.

“How does your body put up with anything so revolting,” Glenda asked?

“It takes a little practice. You’ll get used to it.”

“Never.”

“Yes, one day you will and more. But for now if you have any money I suggest you buy some sen sen or gum for your breath.”

Glenda did as instructed and bought both at the drug store. The clerk gave her a questioning look but said nothing. For the rest of the day at school and on the bus home Glenda held one hand over her mouth and consumed all of the sen sen and gum. When she arrived home she pleaded a stomach pain and hid in her bedroom until dinnertime. As Mother put a plate in front of her she remarked that Glenda had a funny smell about her. Glenda said maybe it was the sen sen Eric had given her to try.

Glenda found she didn’t always need the help of others to get into trouble. Sometimes she could do it all alone. One Friday while Eric finished off their Chemistry lab assignment she went for a stroll around the school grounds. She had offered to stay behind and help but Eric said she had done the setup and made sure the experiment went perfectly so he could do the write up. Glenda didn’t mind since she found it a most boring way to spend her time. It was so anti-climactic. For her the results were the interesting part of science. Putting in extra time to put them down on paper seemed like a colossal waste of time.

As she ed a rusting old rain barrel behind the school she saw something blue wedged between the barrel and the bricks. She plucked out a small rectangular box with a picture of a sailor on the front and the word Player’s across the top. She pushed on the bottom and a tray slid up exposing several white cylinders, almost a full package of cigarettes. Her first reaction was to put them back since she knew the owner would be looking for them when the bell rang. But curiosity

trumped ethics and she slipped the package in her pocket. For why? At that moment she didn’t know.

Glenda sat on her bed looking at the cigarette package. She knew she shouldn’t but she also knew she would. She had smelled cigarette smoke on many occasions and did not find it to her liking. It did not have the warmth and herbal fragrance of a wood fire. Cigarette smoke had a harshness that grated up her nostrils. But as with the burn of alcohol so with the acrid smell of cigarettes, she had to sense the experience first hand.

The question was the best location for her first smoke. She knew the best place would be away from the farm, maybe back in town. Maybe with Sammy again. But impatience won out and she thought when Mother and Father went to their adults only prayer meeting would be a good time.

Glenda was left to wash the dinner dishes while Mother and Father put on their church clothes and drove off in the truck. When she thought that her parents were well and truly gone she grabbed a handful of wooden matches from the box hanging in the kitchen. She retrieved the cigarettes from under the loose board in her clothes closet where she kept her vibrator and secret supply of romance novels and magazines. Another furtive look around and she ran out to hide behind the barn. Glenda was uncertain about what to do but she had seen men on the street and boys in the schoolyard light up. After a couple of failed attempts she finally lit the cigarette on the third try. She would take a drag on the cigarette and immediately blow out the smoke. The cigarette tasted foul and she couldn’t see why anyone would indulge in such a strange habit. She finally dropped the cigarette and ground it out with her heel. She dug a small hole to bury the evidence and placed a rock on top, just like she had done once for a cat. She must ask Sammy why he smoked.

During Monday lunch hour Glenda searched out Sammy and found him leaving Jack Millar’s. The first words out of his mouth were, “Need a drink.”

Glenda turned a deep shade of red and looked from side-to-side and behind her to see if anyone heard him. “Certainly not, and mind your tongue in public”.

Sammy laughed and pulled out a small bag of tobacco from his shirt pocket. Holding a Zig Zag paper between thumb and forefinger he tapped on the bag, rolled a cigarette and stuck it in the corner of his mouth.

“See, just like in the cowboy movies. Want me to roll you one?”

“No, I’ve got my own”?

“What? Where?”

“Back at the farm. I found a package and tried one but it tasted awful.”

“Did you inhale?”

“What’s that?”

“You gotta do it or there’s no point smoking.”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Sammy pulled a wooden match from his shirt pocket and scratched it alight on the backside of his jeans. He lit his cigarette, breathed in deeply, held it and let the smoke flow slowly from his nose.

“See, you take a drag, suck it down and then get rid of the smoke. You don’t need to let it drain out your nose. I only do that ’cause I’m a show off. Want me to roll you one.”

“No, I dare not go back to school smelling of smoke. I think I’ve got the idea. At least enough to give it a try.”

“Hell kiddo, I’ll have you boozing and smoking in no time. Who knows what comes next?”

Glenda could hardly wait to try her hand at inhaling. On the way home in the bus she weighed the possibilities of trying in town with Sammy, going to her secret slough in the pasture or waiting for the absence of her parents.

At supper Mother asked if Glenda and her father could clean up after dinner because she wanted to take some chicken soup to a friend with a bad case of the flu. She had set a mason jar aside from dinner to cheer her up and relieve the coughing and congestion. Father said he would like to help but he had already promised to give one of the church elders a hand with his sick prize bull.

Glenda saw her wish fulfilled and said she could handle the cleaning up. She started on the dishes immediately and was half finished as her parents disappeared down the driveway. When she had dried and put away the last dish and wiped the table clean she ran to her room to retrieve her cigarettes.

She returned to her spot behind the barn, sat on a milk stool, and tried to light a match on the seat of her jeans like Sammy had done. The match broke. She finally gave up and scratched the match alight on a nearby rock. She took a look at the end of the cigarette to make sure it was well lit. She then took a deep breath, let it out and followed with the same deep breath to draw in the smoke. The result overwhelmed her. She gasped, gagged, lost her breath, caught her breath and coughed and coughed and blacked out.

When she came to she saw her father standing over her holding the cigarettes. He reached down, grabbed her collar and jerked her upright.

“You wastrel, you jezebel. Doing the devil’s work. I had the Lord on my side after all when he led me to forget the medicine for Elder Jonah’s bull.”

Father dragged a wheezing Glenda to the house and ordered her to stay in her room until he returned from dropping off the medicine.

A terrified Glenda huddled in her room hugging the one-eared panda she slept with as a little girl. Too soon the door slammed, heavy boots thudded on the stairs and her door flew open.

In a voice from depths her father bellowed, “If smoking’s what you want, smoking is what you’ll have.”

Father sat her down at the kitchen table, took out the cigarette package from his shirt pocket and spilled out the contents on the kitchen table. He handed Glenda

one of the white tubes.

A terrified Glenda held a trembling cigarette between her quivering lips. Glenda wanted to cry but couldn’t out of fright. Father flicked a thumbnail over a match and held it to the cigarette.

At first Glenda sucked gently on the cigarette and blew out the smoke in small white clouds. Father said, “No, do it like a real smoker, inhale.”

Glenda inhaled, coughed, sputtered and wheezed. Father persisted and insisted she would finish the package.

Glenda took a final drag on the third cigarette, blew out the smoke and dropped her spinning head on the table. At the same moment Mother came through the door.

“What in the name of Sweet Jesus is going on?”

“Do not blaspheme in my house.”

“That is your daughter you are putting through hell.”

“Hell is what I’m saving her from.”

Mother glared at him, threw the cigarettes on the floor and ground them into dust with her heel. “The torture is over and so is the smoking, isn’t it darling?”

Mother normally gave in to Father but on the occasions she stood her ground he knew the time had come to retreat from the field of battle.

Glenda, her face the colour of wallpaper paste, nodded.

After a hot bath Mother tucked Glenda into bed and heard her say her prayers just like she used to when she was a small child. Glenda resolved never to smoke again, at least not within several hundred miles of her parents.

Glenda handed Eric a letter and plopped down beside him for the start of Biology. The class teacher had received a copy of the same letter. He rapped on his desk for attention and announced, “Pay attention class, we have a celebrity in our midst.” He proceeded to read: “Dear Miss Miller, We are pleased to inform you that you are the winner of this year’s first prize for an article authored by a Canadian high school student. You will receive a $500 credit toward the purchase of science material of your choosing.”

The letter came from the editor of a renowned science journal that ran an annual contest for the best article by a high school student. Glenda had submitted an article on evolution, positing the prospect of evolution going backwards, the conditions, the results and even a mathematical model to predict further developments. She stood as instructed by the teacher and the class rewarded her with a soft round of applause. Eric gave her a hug.

Later that day four of the high school hockey team sat in the team

captain’s aging Ford coupe in the middle of a field enjoying an after practice smoke and twelve pack of beer.

A burly defenseman in the back seat surprised the rest when he said, “How about that goofy Glenda broad winning a prize for something no one cares about.”

The team’s leading scorer sitting in the front beside the captain said, “Who cares, big deal she gets five hundred bucks that can’t be spent on anything any sensible person would want.”

“Yeah, and I bet she’s cold as a witch’s tit,” came the contribution from the small figure huddled in a corner of the back seat. He was small in stature but the number one antagonist on the team. “Or maybe even butch,” he said, before draining his beer and reaching for another one.

The captain finally exercised the authority of his position and said, “How much is it worth to you sad bastards to find out?”

“Twenty bucks each,” offered the leading scorer.

“Done,” came the reply in unison. A clinking of bottles sealed the deal.

“And I’ll bring you her panties flying from my aerial.”

The following day Glenda sat alone in the lunchroom finishing her roast chicken

sandwich. To her surprise the captain of the hockey team sat beside her. She knew who he was and that his name was Rory but they had never exchanged a single word.

“Hi, my name’s Rory and I know you’re Glenda.”

“I know who you are,” Glenda replied.

“I think its real cool, you winning such a big prize. What have you done to celebrate?”

“Mother made me a roast chicken dinner with rhubarb pie for dessert. And Eric bought me a Coke.”

Rory grinned and said, “That’s not too exciting. How about I take you out Friday after school and I can drop you at home after?”

Glenda knew she would never get permission from her parents and said so.

A somewhat crestfallen Rory paused briefly before recovering and came back with, “OK then lunch tomorrow. We’ll go to A&W for burgers and root beer.”

Glenda went speechless. She knew she could never tell her parents but lunch at the A&W seemed safe enough so she agreed.

She wore one of her better dresses the next day but nothing too special since she didn’t want to raise any suspicions at home. She carried her lunch box as usual and ed off the contents to Eric who enjoyed a bottomless pit of a stomach. He was surprised at her lunch date, shocked even.

The hockey captain waited outside the school entrance, the car running and radio blasting a drummer’s solo in a rock tune. His parents called him Rory but he liked it when people called him Captain. He let Glenda call him Rory. Glenda opened the enger door herself and slipped into the car and carefully pulled on the hem of her dress to cover her knees.

“Welcome aboard Glennie. You don’t mind if I call you Glennie do you, Glenda sounds like a spinster school teacher.”

Glenda did mind but held her tongue and said, “No, it’s kind of different.”

Glenda’s rear end barely brushed the car seat before the car’s muffler roared and tires shot gravel at a ing cyclist. Captain Rory flashed a smirk of selfsatisfaction.

Glenda had never been to the A&W and marveled at the names on the menu. She couldn’t bring herself to order a Mama Burger. It seemed so inappropriate for someone her age. She decided on a Teen Burger, small fries and small root beer as more appropriate. Rory didn’t make any personal connection with the menu and went for the biggest, Grandpa Burger, large fries and giant root beer.

After giving the carhop the order he said, “OK Glennie, now about you. I want to hear what you wrote for that science mag. and what you’ll buy with all that cash.”

Glenda got as far as saying it was about evolution when Rory interrupted with a laugh.

“Evolution, right, all coming from apes. Well, I’ll tell you right now, no apes in my family. Not my parents or my grandparents. But one of the blue liners on the team we played last weekend must have dropped out of the trees. He looked like an ape and played like one.” Glenda’s story forgotten, Rory proceeded to recount in full detail his heroics on the ice and how he almost carries the team single-handed.

Rory put away his Grandpa Burger in about 4 bites, only the size of his mouth slowed consumption of the fries and he almost inhaled his giant root beer. Glenda couldn’t keep up but she enjoyed her first ever teen burger and salty fries and finished them by the time Rory came back from the men’s room. She noticed he still had a speck of mustard on his chin and almost reached over to wipe it off with a napkin but instead pointed it out verbally.

After the carhop had removed the trays from the windows Rory suggested a spin in his car before returning to school. The spin lasted five minutes to a wooded glade on the edge of town. He pulled a plastic bag from under the seat and said, “I have some grass, care for a toke.”

Glenda drew back, shook her head said, “Heavens, no”.

Rory shrugged, “OK but you’re ing on some great stuff. Let’s get physical instead.”

Rory slid over, pulled Glenda to him and kissed her open mouthed on the lips.

Glenda felt Rory’s tongue trying to push between her lips. The idea of his tongue in her mouth made her gag and she pulled back choking. Rory advanced again and Glenda pushed him back hard enough he bumped his head on the steering wheel. It freed Glenda enough to jump out of the car.

Rory rubbed his head and said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing.”

Glenda scowled at Rory and said, “Walking back to town.”

“You ungrateful bitch, I buy you lunch and barely a kiss in return. I expect more from a broad when I put out for lunch.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Glenda replied.

“Forget it, get in the car I promise not to touch you.”

Glenda climbed into backseat and huddled against the door all the way back to the school. She might have been more amenable to Rory’s advance if he hadn’t treated her like an opposing forward. The men in her fantasies performed with more gentility and finesse.

Rory dropped Glenda off at the front door as the bell rang.

“Thank you for lunch.” Glenda said as she got out of the car.

Rory scowled in reply and sent gravel flying as he hammered the accelerator. The roar drowned out, “Fucking bitch lost me sixty bucks.”

Glenda ed Eric in Chemistry barely in time for the start of class. He whispered to her, “I have to talk to you when we get outta here.”

After class Eric pulled Glenda into a secluded corner.

A suspicious Glenda asked, “So what’s the big secret?”

Eric told Glenda in detail about Rory’s challenge to exchange her panties for $60.

“Watch out for him,” Eric said.

“I already have,” she said and excused herself for a trip to the washroom. She locked herself in a cubicle and let the tears flow down her cheeks.

The last days of high school were soon approaching and Glenda could not wait. Graduation day had been set and the valedictorian chosen. It was not Glenda. The honour goes to the class president where social skills and a wide network are obligatory.

Glenda could have ed on the graduation ceremony but her parents insisted, plus she was to receive awards for science and mathematics. Her mother pointed out that it would be bad manners not to attend.

Glenda did have a new dress to wear that she picked herself. Mother had offered to make one for her but when she saw the tears in Glenda’s eyes the day she made the offer she quickly changed her mind. Glenda did not want a dress bought in town where wandering eyes would have made their evaluation. Instead she picked one from a mail order catalogue, a silver gray taffeta. Father finally approved when shown a picture that it covered the shoulders and almost reached her ankles. Mother planned to lend Glenda a pearl necklace that had belonged to her own mother, the only jewelry she owned.

Glenda shut out any thought of the graduation dance and party. The lack of a date and impossibility of approval from Father made the whole idea futile.

Glenda had met her goal of a lucrative scholarship that meant no money worries at university. Her straight A grades, winning the provincial science competition and her award winning article made sure of that. It had been decided that she would attend the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon. She had equally attractive offers from Queens, McGill and the University of Alberta but Father had stamped his foot on the kitchen linoleum and proclaimed, too far from home.

In fact, Father would have preferred she stay home and help on the farm until he

could find her a husband. He knew of a couple likely candidates in the church who one day would inherit the family farm. Mother came to Glenda’s defense and insisted that with her talent it would be a sin not to develop it at university.

Glenda insisted that she wanted to study Biology in the Science faculty. Father opposed the idea on lack of relevance and questionable job prospects. A compromise was reached when Mother suggested she study Biology from within the shelter of the College of Education. That way she would be more assured of a job on graduation, preferably in the Grande High School. Glenda recognized the reality of the situation and gave in. When she reached Saskatoon she would investigate the possibility of a transfer to Science.

Tenth

G lenda heard the meadowlark whistle on her clock announce time to shift her body from under the sheets. She opened her left eye enough to make out 5:30. A quick splash of cold water finished the morning arousal enough to Mother and Father at the breakfast table. She arrived ready for the fields in bib overalls over a flannel shirt of predominantly gold, green and black checks of the Saskatchewan tartan. A faded Rider cap covered her head and a pair of leather gloves poked out of a rear pocket. The unisex dress of almost any farm w orker.

Father was nibbling on a last piece of bacon and had a half slice of toast to finish. Glenda grabbed the last two pieces of toast on the table, slathered on a gob of homemade butter and fashioned an egg and bacon sandwich. A quick gulp of orange juice and she was ready to Father to harvest the last field of wheat. Mother handed her the lunch bucket and thermos jug of hot milky tea and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

The morning had a seasonal nip of frost but a rising sun promised a warmer day and a golden field of wheat beckoned their arrival. A day to look forward to. But not so much as the day after Labour Day when she would squeeze into the truck between her parents for the ride to Saskatoon and day one of her dreamed of independent life. In the distance she could see Millie’s yellow school bus kicking back a plume of dust on the road to Grande. No more sponging off Millie’s tales of summer adventure. Time to make her own.

The fearful and joyous day of departure arrived. Glenda silenced her meadowlark clock and packed it away in a suitcase. Glenda breathed a little quicker about the prospect of her new life, even as a knot of fear of the unknown gripped her stomach. Mother feared the loss of her daughter and sense of being alone but was mainly proud and happy. Father saw no point in why she had to

leave the farm and feared the worst when Glenda stepped outside the protective family circle, but he too had a feeling of pride.

Father twirled his old grey fedora to occupy his hands. He didn’t really want to wear a hat but he didn’t want to appear in public with a farmer’s two-tone harvest tan of fish belly white above his eyebrows and burnt mahogany below. He felt uncomfortable in the pinching black suit and starched white shirt, down to the red tie pressing into his Adam’s Apple, but he thought it only appropriate for the occasion. Mother wore her best floral dress and pearls. The dress didn’t quite suit the season but it was her newest Sunday best. She tried to settle her breathing by knotting and unknotting a white handkerchief. She wished Glenda would hurry because she would calm down when they were underway.

Glenda turned full circle before the mirror. She had wanted to look like she belonged, at least as she ed from her most recent campus tour __ tee shirts and blue jeans. Instead she dressed to suit her parents. She wore a pair of blue pants, almost the hue of jeans and a white shirt, fastened to the neck, according to Mother’s order.

Glenda had no trouble carrying her suitcases down to the kitchen. Her years helping on the farm had added muscle to a sturdy frame and broad shoulders. Glenda didn’t really notice her shoulders, she found herself fixated on the width of her hips and size of her bra. She often wondered how she could transfer an inch or two from one to the other. Her just washed shiny black hair, a genetic gift from her father hung straight and no longer than her parents would allow. The contrast of her steel gray eyes spoke of a person of determination. A pert nose and occasional broad smile that flashed white teeth hinted at a deeper but rarely seen sense of humour.

Glenda glanced over her shoulder and saw the houses of Grande fade into the distance as they turned onto the highway to Saskatoon. She mouthed a silent good-bye and after a short pause added, forever.

Father kept his eyes on the white line down the centre of the highway. Mother at last broke the silence and asked, “Will you have the company of any classmates at university?”

Glenda almost laughed. Company from her classmates? They weren’t company in school so there was no reason that should change at university. But she held her tongue and replied, “No, only me. Some are going for courses at various colleges or technical schools but I don’t know who is going where. Only my lab partner Eric is going to university but he’s going to St. Andrew’s in Scotland because his grandfather went there.”

“I know St. Andrew’s,” Father interjected. “I went there on my visit to Scotland with my own father. A charming place by the sea with an old golf course.”

“I heard some of your classmates are getting married,” Mother added.

“Yes,” Glenda replied. She choose not to add that in most cases it was not voluntary.

Glenda added that she heard the dreaded Margaret, the scourge of her first year in school had a found job in Saskatoon in a McDonald’s. Glenda wondered if they would recognize each other if their paths crossed. Who knows, with Margaret’s aggressive personality she may soon take over as manager, or acquire several outlets and become the richest of all former Grande students.

“Well, you may have company with a girl who used to go to school in Grande,”

Mother said. “Do you Daphne? I know she moved away several years ago but you might meet her in some class.”

Glenda clearly ed the lovely Daphne. She recalled her more by her schoolyard pseudonym, Foxy, the vixen who stole her first love, Donald.

Glenda wanted to say not if I see her first but instead said, “Not likely, we never had much in common.”

An hour after setting out Father pulled the truck up to the front of a four storey grey stucco building. A sign showing flakes of blue paint read Christian Girl’s Residence. To guarantee only the right class of girl found shelter inside all applicants required letters of reference from a minister and a church elder. Glenda had pleaded for the student residence on campus so she could meet a mix of students, not just more girls like herself reading the same prayer book, a source of inspiration she referred to less and less each day. Father’s choice had been a pious family to witness Glenda did not surrender to the hormonal ions he knew raged through the body of all young girls. Mother discovered the religious residence and Father eventually gave in. Glenda knew when silence is golden. The one saving grace is she had been given one of the few single rooms.

While Father unloaded the luggage from the back of the truck a six foot plus, blonde woman of indeterminate age filled the doorway. She had her hair in a braid that circled her head and perched on top was a small white cap like army nurses wore in WW II. She covered herself in an ankle length white cotton dress that she protected with an unadorned blue apron from neck to hem. Footwear similar to hiking boots completed her ensemble. In a voice deeper than Father’s she pronounced, “Welcome, I’m Gerda, the warden here,” and covered Father’s hand in a grip that made him flinch.

Gerda handed mother a key and directed them to the second floor. Glenda followed her parents into the room and looked out the one window onto an unobstructed view of the garbage bins in the alley. Mother placed the suitcases on the single bed along the wall and opened one to unpack while Father made himself comfortable on the only chair in the room, beside the straight backed wooden one pushed up against the desk that wobbled when Glenda leaned on it.

In one stride Glenda crossed the room and closed the suitcase almost catching Mother’s hand. “I’ll do it later. I don’t want you late for the cows.” Mother retreated speechless.

Glenda followed her parents down the stairs to the truck. After hugs and tears all round, even from Father, Glenda waved until the truck disappeared around a corner and Mother’s face was no longer visible looking out the rear window. Glenda pulled a white envelope from her rear pocket that Mother had secretly placed there while they hugged. Back in her room Glenda counted one hundred dollars in small bills saved from the egg and milk money.

Glenda finished putting her clothes away in a dresser with three drawers and on the single rod behind a curtain in a wall recess. At the bottom of her last suitcase Glenda had a package given to her by Sammy Caw. He said he would miss her wit and wisdom and wanted to be sure she took care of herself at all times. He said the package contained items he knew she could never buy herself and one day would need. He also made her promise not to open the package until she got to university and only in private. Definitely no parents present. Glenda ripped off the plain brown wrapper and saw that thanks to Sammy Caw, she now had her own box of condoms. Multicoloured even. She placed them in the bottom drawer under a nightgown and next to her vibrator.

Glenda lived a ten minute walk from campus and her first order of business was a tour to locate the bookstore and her classrooms. A rumbling in her stomach made finding lunch a first order of business. She stood in the line in the student

cafeteria looking at the offerings on the board above her. She saw the soups and salads and Mother’s advice about a healthy diet rang in her ear. But it was only a distant voice and no real person present. So Glenda ordered what she saw everyone else having, a cheeseburger, fries and large real coke, not the diet kind.

Once she had toured the campus she found herself on the bank overlooking the river. She found a grassy knoll and flopped on her back to stair at the clouds and enjoy the warmth of an early September day. She started to construct images from the clouds and thought back to the times when she had done the same thing at her secret place by the farm slough. Her hands roamed over her body and she started to caress herself until she realized this was all too public a place and thought it best to return home if she had any intention of continuing.

Glenda made her way down to the dining room on the main floor for her first supper and to meet the other girls. The residence has four double rooms on the fourth and third floors, three doubles on the second and Glenda’s single room and two doubles and a single room on the first floor, along with the warden’s suite of rooms. Each floor had a single bathroom with a bathtub and the toilet in an ading room. All girls on the floor had to indicate on a chart on the door her scheduled day and hour for a bath. It was a punishable breach of etiquette to be caught using a bathroom other than the one on your own floor. With all of the rooms occupied, twenty-eight girls lived in the residence. The only first year students were Glenda and two girls across the hall, Ruth and Naomi. They each came from a small Mennonite town in the southeast corner of the province and had known each other almost since the womb.

The supper hour began at 5:30 sharp with all of the girls seated at a long bare wood table, with each one’s place designated by a place card. Heads bowed when Gerda entered to lead the group in prayer and a reading from the bible. One of the girls would then take a turn reading a personal selection from the bible. The reading rotated each night from one girl to the next on her right. Each girl would then briefly recount a personal story of the most important event of her day.

The evening meal always consisted of meat, mashed potatoes and a vegetable along with milk or tea. The meat selection rotated through varying cuts of beef, pork or chicken, the latter most often on a Sunday. The vegetables would be one of carrots, peas, beans or corn and any leftovers went into the daily soup pot. Dessert wasn’t always served but when it happened it was usually rice or tapioca pudding or jell-o. An exception was allowed on Sunday and special holidays when cake or apple pie appeared. Everyone was expected to show up for dinner and if not the warden was to be duly notified in writing to provide a record. Lunches were soup and sandwiches if eaten in the residence, but if one’s schedule required it was possible to pack a sandwich. Breakfasts were self-serve from a choice of porridge, corn flakes or toast with strawberry jam. Everything was put out at 7:00, with the porridge in a pot on the kitchen stove and the rest on a sideboard in the dining room, including a toaster. The table and food were cleared promptly at 8:00.

All food preparation was the responsibility of Mary, a tiny, ageless, Ukrainian lady who spoke in heavily accented English, when she spoke at all. It seemed Mary never took a day off since she was always there.

When it came time to relate a personal event of the day nearly all the girls brought in a religious theme of revelation or affirmation. Glenda was one exception when she recounted her day on the riverbank iring the clouds. Although she did hint at a religious theme when she described them racing across the heavens. The final speaker also choose a more secular subject, talking about the joy of renewing acquaintances with classmates she hadn’t seen since April. Her name was Sara and she would graduate that year and hoped to continue in medicine. Glenda also noticed Sara was the only girl in the room wearing make-up, even if only a hint of pink lipstick. Her seniority in the residence rewarded her with the single room on the first floor. Glenda pondered how she could become Sara’s friend.

Sara disappeared immediately after dinner on the excuse of meeting friends.

Glenda hoped for a quiet night on her own and early to bed to renew acquaintance with her vibrator. A knock on the door from Ruth and Naomi ended that fantasy. Instead she spent her evening listening to stories of their life together and how they hoped to become missionaries after they finished a degree in nursing.

Glenda lay in bed contemplating the years ahead of her. In many ways university would be almost a tabla rasa experience for her. No one she knew had accompanied her to university and she knew no one in Saskatoon. She did have a letter of introduction to the pastor of a church nearby but doubted she would use it. The number of close personal relationships in her life had been very few. Her efforts and talents had focused on excellence in academic pursuits. The exceptions being Eric, who had left to foreign shores and some tutoring from Sammy Caw and a rich imagination fed by literature from Jack Millar’s discard selection helped develop a growing private side to her nature.

The first couple of weeks were spent getting her feet under her __ enrolling in classes, buying books and locating classrooms. Despite being enrolled in Education her high school accomplishments let her Science students in Biology, Chemistry and Physics classes. As with all students she did have to take English and something about philosophy and principles of Education. All of her professors were male and all of her lab instructors were graduate students. She would soon learn the hierarchy and pecking order of the denizens of institutions of higher education.

Glenda started to make a point of tracking Sara’s movements. The exact minute of Sara’s departure in the morning and return for dinner and escape after dinner as soon as residence etiquette allowed. Gerda took a dim view of anyone who bolted their food and vanished into the night. She expected everyone to tarry awhile for polite conversation over a cup of tea. The accepted tarry was about thirty minutes, which could be shaved by five or ten minutes with a reasonable excuse. Sara was the most accomplished at it and because of her seniority even allowed to stay out later than the other girls. The Christian Girl’s Residence

didn’t have an actual curfew but Gerda would be at the door at 10:00 p.m. in her cap and ankle length flannel white night gown ready to interrogate any girl returning after that hour to for her whereabouts and activities. She locked the door shortly thereafter and entry could only be gained by ringing Gerda’s suite. The consequences of doing so remained a mystery since no one had dared put it to the test. It was possible to ask for a key to gain late entry but no one ever had the courage to do so except Sara and she had never returned the key.

Glenda waited for a Saturday morning when Sara wouldn’t be rushing to class. She noted that Sara cut her travel time razor thin, often erring on the side of arriving late. Glenda thought that on a Saturday she might intercept Sara on her way to meet friends or on a shopping trip. Glenda waited in the small library next to the front door. The library contained religious books and publications, none of which attracted her interest but it provided a good place to watch the girls coming and going. When Glenda saw Sara step out of her room she jumped up to open the door.

Sara turned to Glenda with a smile, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my name’s Glenda.”

“Yeah, I know, I recognize you from the other end of the dinner table.”

“Do you mind if I walk with you,” Glenda asked?

“Of course not, where you going?”

“Nowhere special since its Saturday and a nice day I thought I’d just walk a bit.”

“I’m going downtown shopping. I need some undies and the Bay is having a sale. Do you know your way around downtown?”

“Not really.”

“Stick with me, I’ll show you the ropes. In my first year a girl here called Marnie took me under her wing and helped me find my way around, where to look for trouble and how to get out of it when I did find it. Maybe I can do the same for you.”

Glenda couldn’t believe her good fortune.

Sara asked, “Do you mind walking. We won’t get many nicer days than this one before the world is covered in white. It’s not too far and we can get a bus back.”

Glenda considered it an easy walk and readily agreed.

Sara led her down Saskatchewan Drive to the 25th Street Bridge and over the meandering North Saskatchewan. The trees on the riverbank gleamed golden but the next big wind could leave them barren skeletons. Sara pointed out such river front landmarks as the Mendel Art Gallery and the Bessborough Hotel and Glenda added them to her must see list.

Sara knew her way around the Bay like her own room and marched straight to the lady’s lingerie department. Glenda strolled among the offerings, occasionally picking up something but always putting it back. Sara settled on a couple of plain vanilla style bras and panties. She then searched through the more daring lingerie and eventually picked out a flaming red bra and matching pair of panties. She held them over the relevant parts and asked: “Well?”

Glenda didn’t really know what to think. She had never seen the like of them before but thought it best to offer approval but couldn’t help adding, “They do catch attention. When will you wear them?”

“You never know when they’ll be the perfect thing for some weekend. See anything you like?”

Glenda had no plans to buy anything and her budget didn’t allow for extravagance but Sara urged her to at least take a look. Glenda was not yet ready for red undies but she did find a black set to try out. The bra had black lace and the panties were bikini style. Glenda had no idea where or when she would wear them. Maybe in the solitude of her room behind a locked door. She could now dress the part when she disappeared into one of her fantasies.

Sara led Glenda on a conducted tour along Second and Third Avenue and pointed out a variety of shops for future reference and visit. As they ed Birk’s, Sara noted that lunch was almost upon them. On a Saturday, lunch at the residence was a do it yourself affair, rather like breakfast, where meat, cheese and bread were put out to make your own sandwiches. If you didn’t show up no one, including Gerda, would know.

“How do you like Italian,” Sara asked?

Glenda said it would be fine, although the only restaurant she had ever been in was the Chinese one in Grande. She did that Mother made macaroni and cheese once in awhile. When Sara suggested they share a chicken and feta pizza with olives she felt relief from the need to make her own selection.

“Hey, it’s Saturday, why not celebrate with some wine,” Sara suggested?

“Sure, you pick,” Glenda said.

Glenda noticed the waiter poured the wine into their glasses from a solid black bottle with the words, Black Tower in some kind of ancient script.

Sara took a sip, smacked her lips and asked, “So, what do you think?”

Glenda ed her only previous experience with alcohol was the intense burn from a slurp of Sammy Caw’s, mickey of rye. She gingerly took a tiny sip and smiled broadly, “Yum.”

When the last crumb of the pizza had been picked off the pan Glenda thanked Sara for the experience and offered to pay. Sara declined and said it was as much her pleasure and they should share.

Sara led they way to the stop where they could catch a bus that would drop them

at the front door of the residence. After they stepped into the front door Sara said it had been fun. She added that she was busy that night but maybe another weekend they could do something else together, like catch a movie.

“That would be wonderful,” Glenda said.

Glenda put in the usual excess time and effort on her classes, especially her first love of science and math. She did enough in English and the Education class to ensure she maintained her unblemished straight A record. Unlike high school she did not have to team up with anyone for her lab assignments. She much preferred it that way since she did not like having to rely on others. And she very much doubted she would ever find anyone as capable and reliable as Eric.

Although Glenda had no lab partner it soon became clear to everyone who was the star student. The lab instructors made that evident in returning assignments. Glenda soon attracted a number of hangers-on, anxious to see how she garnered so many accolades. The girls were more likely to seek her help. She had an uncanny tendency to intimidate the male of the class. They wouldn’t demean themselves to stoop so low to ask for help from a girl. Especially, since nearly all the boys in Biology planned to become doctors. When anybody asked them what they were taking, to a man, they would proudly announce, pre-med. Glenda thought if their dreams came true the doctor shortage would soon vanish. But as everyone knew, the doctor shortage would go on, as would the continual supply of high school Biology teachers.

George was an exception. He introduced himself to Glenda at the first lab session before he even knew of her academic prowess. George took a very purposeful approach to all things in life. He heeded the advice of his big brother who had instructed him when he entered high school to avoid the most attractive girls. The competition would be fierce and worse, their inflated superego made them much too high maintenance. That didn’t mean a lowering of standards to scrape the bottom of the barrel but to settle on something in the mid-range of

attractiveness. Glenda fit the bill. Besides, she was handy, having a lab station next to his.

George had a second exceptional characteristic. He didn’t have his heart set on a medical career like the other males. Law would be his chosen vocation. The certainty of a partnership in his father’s high profile law firm awaited him after the necessary few years of apprenticeship at the bar. George had enrolled in Biology because he thought he might learn something more useful than in a Sociology class.

At the end of the first lab as everyone was cleaning up and wrapping up George leaned toward Glenda and announced in a loud whisper, “Hi, I’m George and I see from the cover of you lab manual you’re Glenda. Coffee on me to get better acquainted?”

“Excuse me,” Glenda said. She couldn’t believe her ears.

George said it again.

His abruptness put Glenda on the defensive so her first reply was an excuse that she had to go home to wash her hair.

“In the middle of the day,” George asked.

“I only wash my hair in the middle of the day,” Glenda said and fled out the door.

Not easily put off George continued until Glenda finally agreed to have coffee in the hope it would end the harassment.

Glenda was surprised to learn George came from Saskatoon. Not only did he come from Saskatoon but he didn’t live at home. Glenda found that strange indeed. She knew for certain that if she were in similar circumstances there would be no way her parents would let her live anywhere but at home under their watchful eye. George lived with three friends in a house owned by the parents of one of them. It was a good deal financially since all they had to pay for were the utilities and phone. George said she should come over some day for something stronger than coffee. She swore to herself, no way, never. If her parents found out they’d pull her out of university, at least Father would.

Every night at dinner Father ed Glenda when he said grace. Glenda’s departure from the house and dinner table had left a hole in the family that neither Mother nor Father expected. Father took to smoking his pipe even more and reading the bible after dinner until bedtime. Mother increased her involvement in church activities until they became a daily event. One day driving home from a women’s auxiliary meeting she thought how her life had become one of quiet seclusion.

Mother phoned Glenda every Sunday evening at 7:00 p.m. It wasn’t exactly chipped in stone but Glenda knew of the expectation and organized her time accordingly. If Mother had her desires she would call every day but she knew that was putting too much pressure on Glenda and Father would never tolerate the cost. Mother always asked if he wanted to speak to Glenda but he declined, saying she could just as easily fill him in. Mother also knew that he was not inclined to add extra minutes to the extravagance of a long distance call to Saskatoon.

September flashed by in an instant and Glenda found herself on a bus to Grande at Thanksgiving for her first return trip home. Mother had made repeated hints for an earlier return but Glenda had been able to beg off on the grounds of academic pressures. Her defense was mainly true. Glenda wanted to be sure she did her best for her first set of midterm exams. She did, coming first in all her classes, even English, except for the Education class. It didn’t interest her but she resolved to do better next time to maintain a perfect record.

Mother and Father picked her up at the bus stop in the Esso station on the highway. They ed on the town and went directly home. Mother filled the truck with questions about classes, girls in the residence, life at university and if Glenda had made any new friends. The unspoken question being, were any of them boys. One question immediately followed the next with little time for a reply. Father kept a stony silence waiting his turn until suppertime. Mindful of her reasons for not coming home earlier Glenda kept what response she could squeeze in to classes, how big they are and despite the newness of it all she had still come out top of her class.

Mother served Glenda’s favorite chicken potpie for supper on the first night. Mother also made fluffy white dumplings, a rare and special treat. Father even remarked on the rarity of the occasion. When the last crust of the pie disappeared and the dumplings gone Father rose from the table and nodded at Glenda, “Girl, me in the living room, I’d like you to read to me from the bible.”

“Certainly Father but I should help Mother with the dishes first.”

“Don’t worry darling, there aren’t many, tend to your Father.”

Father leaned back in his chair filling his pipe when Glenda came into the living room. He lit his pipe and as a cloud of smoke drifted across the room handed a

well thumbed, black leather bound bible to Glenda and said, “Daughter, do me the honour and pleasure of reading to me from Romans, Chapter six, verses twelve to fourteen.”

Glenda read slowly and with purpose:

12 Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof.

13 Neither yield ye your as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin: but yield yourselves unto God as those that are alive from the dead and your as instruments of righteousness unto God.

14 For sin shall not have dominion over you: for ye are not under the law, but grace.

“Words to mark and don’t you think daughter?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Thank you for the reading, you may now help your mother in the kitchen.”

Glenda returned the bible and grabbed a towel to polish the dripping dishes.

“Easy,” Mother said, “you’ll rub off the flowers.”

Glenda would have liked a trip to town to catch up with Sammy Caw and maybe even pick up some reading material from Jack Millar’s discard bin. But Mother said there was no need as they already had a turkey bought at a church sale to raise money for some far off missionary project. Mother put extra attention into teaching Glenda the fine art of turning out a perfectly prepared and cooked Thanksgiving turkey dinner. This included preparation of the bird and two kinds of stuffing, bread stuffing for inside and a sausage stuffing to fill up the neck. It was also one time of year when Father found it acceptable to indulge in a dessert as decadent as pumpkin pie with whipped cream.

The church had a special service every day for at least two hours, including contributions from the congregation on what they were thankful for in the past year. Of course Glenda was expected to say something. She dutifully did so giving thanks to God for blessing her with loving parents, the fellowship of the church and the gifts endowed upon her to excel and she promised to use them to help those in need and the greater glory of God. Father smiled and nodded approval as she returned to her place between him and Mother.

Glenda occupied what little time she could steal to read a biography on Charles Darwin. Alone in her room of course. She dare not venture into a more public place where Father might catch her.

Glenda had hoped to return to Saskatoon on the bus because it left Monday morning. But Mother would have none of it. Glenda would ride in the truck after church service in the morning followed by Thanksgiving dinner. Glenda did have to it that she and Mother had done a first class job on the dinner. Even Father broke his silence and offered congratulations.

After dinner Glenda put in extra effort to finish the dishes so they could be on the road. She even concocted a story of needing to finish an assignment to be turned in first thing Tuesday morning. They arrived at the residence as dusk fell. An obligatory inspection of Glenda’s room and hello to Gerda were necessary before Glenda could say good-bye and be alone in the splendid isolation of her room. She then pulled out her bottom drawer and removed her vibrator, stowed away beneath the black undies.

Eleventh

G lenda’s performance on her mid-term exams and in the lab so out paced the other students that even the overworked and haggard grad student assistants couldn’t help but notice and bring them to the attention of the professor teaching the class. The Physics and Chemistry professors were duly impressed but too busy with their own research for immediate attention. Neither had tenure and the day of decision crept ever c loser.

Lucky for Glenda, Professor Henry Higgins, who taught her favorite class, biology, found more time and interest for promising first year students. His real name was Horatius and he never forgave his parents for the baptismal curse. His mother had a love of nineteenth century heroic literature and she liked none better than Horatius at The Bridge. At the slightest provocation she would rise up and spout a word perfect rendition of the entire poem. When My Fair Lady appeared and Higgins’ fellow grad students teased him, he immediately adopted Henry as his own. He started to sign his name as Henry Higgins and repeated it on his academic publications.

His renown spread across campus and he held a high profile research professorship. He managed some of the largest research grants at the university and supervised an army of graduate students and post docs. He really didn’t need to clutter his life with messy undergraduates, especially normally illiterate first year students. Except he found satisfaction in bringing knowledge to the unlearned, more so than the often too jaded, know it all seniors.

When he learned of Glenda’s special talent he dropped in unannounced on one of her lab sessions. After quiet observation from a discreet corner of the lab he approached while Glenda was bent over her table, consumed by the task before her. She had an idea for a twist in procedure from what was described in the

manual and felt hopeful for special results.

“Miss Miller I believe,” Higgins boomed in his bass voice.

Startled, Glenda almost dropped her beaker. “Professor Higgins,” she squeaked.

Higgins apologized for his stealth like approach and launched into a rapid fire string of questions that led Glenda down a path to describe her steps and why. Her articulate took him aback, realizing she already had a depth of scientific intuition beyond many capable students in his senior classes.

“Miss Miller, may I call you Glenda, would you be available to visit my lab so I can show you around?”

Glenda nodded dumbly yes, to the first question and said, “Would I ever.”

Glenda fully realized how rare it is to talk to someone who may not be God, but at least is on speaking with the deity.

It is common among the academic cognoscenti to end the day in the company of one or more trusted colleagues to sort out the problems of the world of academe, locally and even beyond. The faculty club is one of the more favored venues to share such deep inner thoughts. If the evening carries on overlong and the libations keep coming, the conversation often turns to more usual male subjects such as sports scores and the non-scholarly attributes of some of the female undergraduates and graduate students under their tutelage.

Higgins closet associate for such sharing is Jock McLaren of the Math Department, known between friend and foe alike as Jockey. As soon as Higgins bottom dented the chair cushion, beer mug in hand, Jockey started on his favorite rant in his trademark Glaswegian accent, even though he left Glasgow thirty years ago and has never returned. He claims a morbid fear that if he returned he would be kidnapped and locked away in the Gorbals, Glasgow’s infamous slum district. Jockey managed to escape his birthplace by winning a math contest that led to a scholarship at Glasgow University and ultimately a PhD in Mathematics from Cambridge. Jockey considers himself a self made man because of his innate brilliance and strong work ethic. Characteristics he finds lacking in today’s undergraduate population. He greeted Higgins in an oft-heard version of the failings of his first year calculus students.

Higgins sipped to a level he called half full and waited for Jockey to pause for a refreshing gulp. As Jockey raised the mug to his lips Higgins jumped in and said Jockey may be right for some students he encountered in math but Higgins had a ready counter example. He proceeded to tell Jockey about the talents and intellectual capability of Glenda. As Higgins told his story a look of recognition crossed Jockey’s face.

“What do you call this future Nobel winner,” the Scotsman rasped?

“I just told you, ya deef buggar, her name is Glenda.”

“I heard that matey but what’s the rest of it?”

“Glenda, Glenda Miller.”

“I know her, she’s in my calculus class.”

“And how’s she doing,” Higgins asked?

“Easily top of the class. She’s the only one in there with a sense of Math. She just might be good enough to become that rarity, a female Mathematician.”

“Yesterday I wanted to challenge the class by extending some material beyond what was in the textbook. I put a proof on the board as an example. Of course my efforts interested no one except young Miss Miller but I sensed something was wrong with her, although she said nothing. As the class filed out to find something that really did interest them your Glenda stayed behind. She pointed to a line in the proof I still had on the board and suggested it might include an error. I immediately saw she was right. I never make mistakes but had no choice but to acknowledge I had and thanked her. All she said in reply was, ‘that’s OK, I just wanted to be sure,’ and walked out.”

Higgins smiled quietly and said, “At least she didn’t embarrass you in front of the class.”

Jockey grumped and rose out of his chair to refill his beer mug.

Glenda finally gave in to George’s continual pestering to see what he called his fabulous pad and meet his debonair roommates. George picked her up Saturday afternoon in his high school graduation present, a new Alfa Romeo coupe. Glenda decided to dress up a bit and wore her newest skirt and sweater top. It

had crossed her mind to retrieve the black bra and panties from the bottom of her drawer since they had never been outside her room. But a moment of sober second thought said not today.

George even played the gentleman, opening the car door for Glenda on both occasions when he picked her up and again at his place. George introduced her to his three roommates. Kent of rimless glasses, medium height, reddish brown hair and a quiet demeanor. Rick, fair of hair and fair of face, close to a petite size but of puckish humour. Damien, the tallest, darkest, curliest and in charge. They were in the midst of preparation for a barbecue later that afternoon. They had just finished tapping a beer keg and settled into sampling the fruit of their efforts from personalized, glass bottom, pewter mugs.

“To test its drinkability,” Damien pronounced.

“Careful, it’ll be gone before the party,” George grumbled.

“Don’t fret your sweet little brow Georgie, we have a backup in the garage, and by the way, you owe me for your share,” Damien replied.

Rick approached George with a hand out and asked, “Who’s your friend?”

George did the introduction while he counted out enough bills to square his .

“Care for a beer,” Kent asked?

“I bet she doesn’t drink beer,” Damien said.

“Well, it’s not my first choice,” Glenda replied.

“Lemon gin maybe, we always have some,” Damien suggested.

Rick flashed a sly smile and said, “I’ll get it. With orange juice?”

“OK,” Glenda replied, not really knowing what she was getting, nor that in some quarters the drink had been dubbed, ‘liquid panty remover’.

Once Glenda had her drink and announced she liked it, George filled his own pewter mug and they retired to the rear deck. It was unseasonably warm and Glenda enjoyed her drink in the shelter of the deck. George pointed out the yard had been professionally landscaped, although nothing was left of the summer glory except empty hanging baskets and turned over flower beds. The fountain at the bottom of the garden still gurgled and George said if they didn’t soon remove the gold fish they’d make exotic ice cubes for special cocktails. The thought made Glenda wince.

Tired of regaling Glenda of the verdant glory of the yard and noticing she had finished her drink George suggested retiring indoors for a tour of the house.

He paraded her through the living room, dining room, kitchen and what he called the entertainment room. The one with four television sets and a music system

that could bring down the house at full volume, or so he claimed. He said the four TV sets were a necessity to save continual warfare over program selection. He said some nights there was a different program on each set and everyone sat in silence wearing earphones.

When Glenda suggested placing each TV in the individual bedrooms George was not at all forthcoming. He quickly pointed out that would be most unsociable.

George did not include the upper floor, which he said only contained bedrooms and bathrooms that his roommates usually left in such a state he hoped the health inspector never visited.

He said inspection of his own quarters was entirely different, safely out of danger of contamination in the basement. George led Glenda by the hand down the stairs to a door with a sign attached, probably removed from an abandoned mine, that read, ‘Proceed at Your Own Risk’. Glenda did as George ushered her into the room.

Glenda saw a compact, tidy room. No article of clothing adorned the bed, the floor or as far as she could make out, the tiles of the bathroom. The books were neatly stacked in the two bookcases along the wall and she presumed his clothes were carefully hung in a closet she guessed existed behind a second door at the back of the room. A small TV perched on a bracket on the wall opposite the bed and a miniature music system rested on a bedside table. A cottage size refrigerator sat on the floor beside the desk. The room contained a minimum of furniture, a desk and table and a king size bed with a crimson cover and matching set of decorator cushions. Glenda wondered if George had done the purchases himself or if they were gift from his mother.

Lacking anywhere else to sit Glenda dropped onto the bed and couldn’t stop from bouncing up and down to test the mattress. George took that as an invitation to do the same. As Glenda reached the top of a bounce George took the opportunity to push her back on the bed and covered her mouth with his. He kissed Glenda gently until she relaxed enough to feel comfortable with his tongue searching hers. George was experienced enough not to rush and took his time before slipping a hand under Glenda’s sweater and then under her bra. Glenda felt a rush as her nipples rose and hardened. George rose and hardened too.

Glenda started to think some of her past fantasies were about to be realized. That is until she felt George’s hand stray up her leg. She felt his fingers search through her pubic hair and froze. Realizing a mistake George removed his hand and took another tack. He unzipped his pants and tried to push Glenda’s hand inside to wrap around his hard and almost throbbing penis. When Glenda felt the roughness of the zipper she scraped her hand ripping it back and jumped to her feet fumbling to adjust her bra and yanked her sweater down.

“Sorry,” George said. “I got a little carried away.”

“Yes,” said Glenda and headed for the door with a sign, “Leaving Danger Zone.”

Glenda couldn’t agree more.

Glenda hustled up the stairs and came to a halt before a russet haired man lounging on the couch, a large fist wrapped around a glass of beer.

George raced up the basement stairs, two at a time and stopped in surprise,

“Uncle Gus, what are you doing here?”

“Helping dispose of your excess beer. You guys are of legal age aren’t you? And who’s your comely friend,” Uncle Gus said from behind a flashing smile.

“Glenda, meet my mother’s brother, Gus Fraser. He’s a former Mountie.”

Gus replied, “Pleasure to meet you Glenda.”

Glenda was awestruck by his broad smile, twinkle in his eye, broad shoulders and firm but not crushing handshake. George paled in comparison as she looked from one to the other. All she could say was, “Hi”.

She then turned and headed for the door. “Sorry but I have to get going.”

George pulled out his car keys and said, “Wait, I’ll give you a ride. It’s too far to walk.”

“I’ve walked farther on the farm,” said Glenda.

“Let me settle this and offer my chauffeur service,” said Gus.

“Most kind, your offer I accept,” said Glenda.

Gus showed her out to a vintage Jeep and helped her up into the front seat. He dropped Glenda at the residence. She thanked him for his gentlemanly conduct and said she hoped they would meet again.

“Who knows what fate will bring,” ‘Gus replied.

For the next few weeks Glenda went into retreat. She filled her days with the classroom and evenings in Higgins lab. She fully knew he could help her down the road if she continued to impress him.

But when she returned to the solitary world of her room and all was dark her fantasy world took over and she had to replace the batteries in her vibrator on more than one occasion. She started to recognize that her primary fantasies were about skillful and handsome lovers. They did not involve grotty gropes in the back seat of cars or basement bedrooms. They were more likely to include expensive restaurants, exclusive resorts or a moonlight beach.

She had more or less settled into her world of daytime work and nighttime fantasy when Sara asked if she wanted to go to a party with her.

“What kind of party,” Glenda asked.

“Halloween, Saturday is Halloween and my theatre class is having a party. We’re using the open stage theatre next to the main stage.”

“Theatre, I thought you were in pre-med.”

“I am but I have room in my program for fun and besides, an acting class should help me interact with patients and who knows who else. I find it handy with guys too.”

“I don’t know, I suppose I’d need a costume and I’ve never done such a thing. And I don’t have a date. Who are you going as?”

“Morticia of the Adaams family. I find her sexy in a dark sort of way. Suits my inner personality. I’ve added a whip for a dominatrix touch. You could come as my subject. It’s a class party and no date required. That way you get to play the field.”

“What inner self do you want to show off _ sultry, sexy, mysterious, innocent, a celebrity, a cartoon character? A real person like Salomé, Joan of Arc, Cleopatra?”

“Cleopatra, that’s who I’d like to be. A smart lady and world ruler.”

“Perfect,” Sara replied, “we did Antony and Cleopatra last term and I can borrow the whole rig, gowns, wig and make-up. Even a rubber asp. I’ll pick up a bottle of that German white wine you like and we can share it. Pay me on the night.”

Sara didn’t think they should dress in the residence. Gerda would not approve. A

locked door with the girls on the inside would be a likely outcome. Glenda and Sara walked together to the theatre, their bottle of Black Tower carefully out of view in the bottom of Sara’s handbag. Glenda silently thanked Mother for the $100 she had given her upon arrival at university, even though Glenda knew she would not approve.

Never had there been a better Morticia. Her black dress fell to the floor, cinched so tight she could barely breathe, the bodice cut to her waist. Her short blond hair vanished under a black wig so the tresses draped over her shoulders and contrasted the white make up but complemented the black lipstick. Her right hand waved a cigarette holder long enough to be a walking stick and a cat-onine-tails hung from her left hip. Glenda thought she’d find her most likely partner laid out in a pine box.

Sara took charge of dressing Glenda who didn’t get to see the result until Sara spun her around to face the mirror. She didn’t recognize herself. A braided black wig covered her head. Gold hoops hung from her ears and a gold snake choker circled her neck. She wore bright red lipstick and green eye shadow, swept back to produce a feline effect and olive make-up to make her look non-Caucasian, if not exactly Egyptian. Sara had found a long red dress without sleeves, attached at her right shoulder. It made Glenda feel rather undressed. She wished she had her warm, grey cardigan. The final touch, as promised, was a rubber asp that dangled from her waist. A critic might think the whole effect had been modeled more on Elizabeth Taylor’s rendition of Cleopatra than any historical record.

Sara and Glenda made their appearance into a party in full swing. Being a theatre party the amusements fit the cast. Impromptu performances were the order of the night and different individuals or small groups took turns responding to suggestions shouted from the cheering crowd. Glenda followed Sara like a Siamese twin until Sara jumped in with two friends to show how they thought hedgehogs would make love. Sara watched the performance peeking from behind a curtain.

Charades came next. Glenda successfully clung to her spot behind the curtain while Sara and others showed great enthusiasm and adeptness in guessing the scene and roles portrayed on stage.

Eventually creative new ideas ran out and the music turned up for dancing. Ample applications from the ever full punch bowl and personal supplies of strong beverages had begun to take effect. The bottle of Black Tower was now empty so Sara returned from the punch bowl with two full plastic glasses.

“What am I drinking,” Glenda asked.

“I’m not sure,” Sara said, “but I did see bottles of vodka and cheap bubbly under the table and the bowl is full of strawberries, oranges, grapefruit and kiwi fruit. Let’s have a smoke and hit the floor.”

Sara dragged Glenda outside, lit two cigarettes and handed one to Glenda. The lit cigarette in her hand Glenda ed Sammy Caw’s advice to inhale deeply and what happened when she did. She very carefully made sure to blow out the smoke as soon as she could after taking a puff. She noticed Sara did the same.

“C’mon, let’s shake,” Sara said.

Glenda had never danced in her life but she saw a massive crowd, each one gyrating in their own individual fashion. Some looked like they had rhythm but a great many did not. Sara soon became lost in the crowd and Glenda swayed to what she felt from the music.

After a time Sara appeared on the edge of the crowd, her arms draped around the neck of a brawny pirate, a red headband covering his head and a black patch over his left eye, a lethal looking curved dagger in the sash around his waist. It looked like Sara had found what she was looking for.

The wine and the punch bowl pumped up Glenda’s courage and took the edge off her usual shyness and inhibitions. She thought, I’m the Queen of the Nile, time to take charge. She looked around the room and found a Roman gladiator standing alone. He looked on the small side but he’d do for a start. She walked up to him and asked, “Mark Antony I presume.”

Silent for a moment he replied, “I could be.”

“Well, I’m your Cleopatra,” and she stepped forward and kissed him.

Not sure what to do, he kissed her back. After a few repeats Glenda decided she could do better and might as well play the field. She excused herself on the grounds of a bladder intervention. When she returned to the field of exploration she carefully moved to the opposite side of the room, a refilled glass from the punch bowl in hand.

A slurp made Glenda think she should sit down. As she lowered herself onto a chair the Lone Ranger slipped between her and the chair and she found herself in his lap.

“Don’t let the mask scare you, I’m a good guy who rights wrongs and protects

fair damsels.”

Glenda tittered and kissed him. In short order he had his hand on her breasts and she felt something growing underneath her. She turned to rub the firmness and felt his hand rubbing her stomach and she expected the hand would soon be under her dress. Just as she thought it was about to happen she heard her name.

She looked over the Lone Ranger’s shoulder and saw Sara looking down, her wig askew and most of the make-up gone. If Glenda had looked in a mirror she would have seen she had the same predicament.

Sara held out a set of keys and said, “Here take these, they’re for the front door at the residence. I won’t need them but you will if you want to sleep in your own bed.”

Glenda grabbed the Lone Ranger’s wrist and saw from his Mickey Mouse watch that the time was advancing on midnight. Despite protestations from the masked man and a last grab for her butt she pulled herself free and found her clothes in the change room.

Her trip back to the residence followed a meandering route as Glenda’s unsteady gait carried her from side to side along the path home. The residence was dark except for a light over the entrance. She carefully unlocked the front door and gently closed it behind her. After a moment to calm her thumping heart she started up the stairs, being careful to step over the creaky second step. As she did she saw a sliver of light from a crack in a slightly open door to Gerda’s apartment.

Glenda spent Sunday morning in bed and planned to lock herself in her room for the rest of the day. She feared a confrontation with Gerda. A knock on the door shortened her life span by a year. She thought if she waited quietly the door knocker would go away. A second knock, followed by, “Hey, open up, it’s only me, Sara.”

An ashen Sara stepped into the room and flopped on the bed. “What a night. Almost biblical.” Spying her keys on the desk she brushed them into her handbag.

“What happened, you don’t look so great?”

Sara giggled and replied, “Among my friends we say, you know you had a good time if your panties stick to the wall.”

Hunger finally pushed Glenda out of her room for supper. She knew she would now have to face Gerda.

After leading the prayers Gerda said little for the rest of the evening meal. As the dishes were cleared and the girls started to leave Gerda stopped Glenda.

“A funny thing happened last night. I must have forgotten to lock the front door. I’ll be more careful in the future, you never know who might get in, in the dead of night. Maybe you could help me Glenda by checking the door before you turn in.”

Glenda turned the colour of the beets they had for dinner and said, “Yes ma’am, I’ll do my best.”

Glenda decided she had enough excitement for the first term and devoted herself entirely to academic efforts and making a point of checking the locked status of the front door.

Christmas finally came and Glenda was almost glad of the break. Less so because of the time on the farm and more for the change of pace. She took a look at the pile of books she had intended to take home and immediately cut it in half. She knew most of her time would be attending church with her parents and helping her mother with the baking for Christmas and donations to church events. She also expected Father would have a few special chores awaiting her arrival home. She hoped to find Sammy Caw on one of her town visits.

She was rewarded on a trip to town when she found herself with some spare time on her own. Father needed to make the rounds of the equipment dealers and Mother had her annual tea with friends from teaching days.

Glenda found Sammy just about to step into the pool hall. He spied Glenda and whoopped:

“Hey Einstein, Merry Christmas.”

Glenda looked up, smiled and replied, “Merry Christmas to you too, you old devil.”

“Takes one to know one,” Sammy said.

“It’s almost Christmas, got a drink and a smoke for me,” Glenda said.

“Whoa, what do they teach at that university. How ’bout them little coloured balloons I gave you, got any left?”

“I don’t know what to do with them. You didn’t include an instruction manual. I still haven’t found anyone to show me what to do.”

Sammy laughed uproariously and pulled out his tobacco and papers. “Sammy’s original good enough for ya?”

“Sure, just don’t slobber too much when you lick the paper.”

Sammy handed Glenda the cigarette, rolled a second for himself, flared a match to light up and then pulled a mickey out of his hip pocket. He handed the bottle to Glenda and said, “Not too big a pull, that mickey has to last a couple more days until I get my Old Age pension cheque.”

Glenda wiped the neck of the bottle on her jacket sleeve and took a tiny sip followed by a drag on the cigarette. She swallowed quickly because she knew Sammy’s choice of whisky leaned toward the incendiary. She followed with a puff, making sure none of the smoke found its way to her throat.

“You could take a bigger pull than that and I see you still haven’t figured out how to inhale. By the way, aren’t you afraid your folks will get a whiff of those foreign substances on your breath.”

“The puff and the sip are enough for now. I’m still learning. As for my parents, I picked up some sen sen like you taught me. Anyway, I better get going and meet my mother. Merry Christmas.”

Sammy stepped forward and said, “How about a hug for Christmas. I had a bath last night. I should get some reward for that.”

An uncertain Glenda stepped forward, took a deep breath and gave Sammy a quick squeeze. She stepped back and exhaled, thinking, it wasn’t so bad, although she wouldn’t want to do it too often.

As she walked away she turned to wave at Sammy who shouted after her, “Thanks for keeping in touch.”

To Glenda’s surprise Mother told her she had seen Eric’s mother and he had come home from Scotland for Christmas. He wanted Glenda to call him. They agreed to meet the next day at Glenda’s for coffee or tea. Glenda would have preferred a place more private but that is all they could work out. Eric and his family planned to leave the next day for Christmas with relatives in Regina.

Glenda was unprepared for the Eric who walked into the house. He had grown a beard and loomed a larger presence. Not from excess fat but more like muscle from exercise. He also dressed in what Glenda took to be the fashionable style at St. Andrew’s _ tweed jacket the shade of heather over a plum coloured turtle

neck and navy mole skin tros with well polished brown brogues.

After exchanging parental greetings and Eric assuring everyone he is keeping well and enjoying himself immensely at St. Andrews he and Glenda were left alone in the living room to chat about what really interested them. Mother had left them a pot of tea and shortbread and welsh cakes, some of her usual seasonal baking.

Glenda choose to stick to academic topics when recounting her first term. She very much gave him the impression that all her waking time and attention went into academics. Although she did get expansive when she mentioned her meeting and now working for the famous Dr. Higgins. That impressed Eric since he too knew of his reputation.

The important events for Eric had been more personal than academic. He lived in one of the residences under the supervision of a warden. The warden’s job is to see house rules are observed and a reasonable level of order maintained. Eric’s warden was called Fiona, working on a doctorate in Archaeology.

Early in the term the warden invites the new students to a get acquainted tea. The custom is to invite about four students at a time until duty is done. Fiona made an exception in Eric’s case. She only invited Eric. They had met briefly when Eric first arrived and later ing in the hallway. She had been taken by Eric’s gentle, almost shy manner but at the same time always quick with a clever and on the mark response. She recognized abundant potential in Eric.

Eric said he dressed in his best and only expected tea. Fiona had other ideas. She had arranged the tea, cups and dainties so she sat beside Eric on a couch, just big enough for two people touching. Once the formalities of tea drinking and eating the cake and biscuits were out of the way Eric found himself with his tie off, his

shirt unbuttoned to the waist and Fiona’s hand inside the shirt. It wasn’t long before a change of venue was suggested and Eric said he was naked under the bedcovers and Fiona the same.

Glenda sat slack jawed and silent while Eric recounted his tale. “How old is this Fiona,” she asked.

“Twenty-eight, ten years older than me,” Eric replied.

“Cradle robber,” Glenda squeaked.

“Not as far as I’m concerned and we’re not the only couple, I’ve heard of at least two others. We’re discreet and still maintain separate rooms, although we spend most nights together. It’s sort of an open secret. I’ve learned a lot from her.”

“So I see,” said Glenda.

Eric switched the topic to describe the town, the famous golf course and other aspects of Scotland and a weekend in Edinburgh with Fiona. When it came time to depart Eric gave Glenda a big hug and she responded in kind. As Eric drove away Glenda felt great regret that she wouldn’t see him again on this trip. She would have liked to get so much better acquainted with the new Eric.

Twelfth

G lenda marched on to new challenges and victories in the second term. Her exam results and connection with Higgins gave her opportunities rarely available to a first year student. She was offered an opportunity to assist the graduate student instructor in the lab and marking of assignments of Introductory Biology. Some of the more senior graduate students were skeptical about her ability to do the work but Higgins had no doubts and what he said carried the day. In the end Glenda gained a reputation for being tough but fair.

The day before Glenda left to spend the mid-term break at home she worked late in Higgins’ lab to finalize the preparation of slides he planned to use at a presentation in Honolulu. A most welcome change from Saskatoon in February, something not lost on his confidantes, colleagues and students, including Glenda. She dreamed of the day she might gain such notoriety that someone would pay her expenses for a weeklong holiday in paradise during the dark, cold of a Saskatchewan winter.

As she finished the final assembly of the slides Higgins surprised her. She didn’t expect to see him. The arrangement had been for her to leave the slides in an envelope on his desk for pickup in the morning.

“Hi, just thought I’d stop by and see if you had the slides finished yet. Hope I’m not rushing you? If they are done it would save me from detouring here on my way to the airport.”

“Nope, all done. I think. Take a look.”

Higgins emptied the contents of the envelope and held each slide up to the light. He ummed, awed and whistled his way through the package. Glenda had no idea what it all meant.

Higgins reassembled the slides, tapped the pile on the table to get them properly aligned and returned them to the envelope.

“Most impressive young lady. A creative use of colour. That should hold their attention.”

“I would like to pose a question for you to think about over the next week. I’ll need an answer on my return. How would you like to work here for me this summer? I’ve had one of my research grants renewed with a more handsome increase than I requested. The ideas are very promising and you could make a valuable contribution. If all goes well and I’m sure it will we could have a paper the two of us could present at the Internationals in Honolulu next Christmas.”

Dumbfounded, Glenda wanted to say immediately, “Yes, sign me up.” But she knew the decision was not hers alone. Instead she said, “Of course I’m interested but I’ll have to ask my parents. The decision to stay in Saskatoon over the summer is not mine alone.”

Glenda spent the spring break close to home doing her best to please her parents. She split her time equally between helping her father in the yard and the barn and her mother around the house. She attended all church events and did her best to contribute.

On Saturday before her return Glenda summoned the courage to raise Higgins’ offer of a summer job. Once started she raced through to the end to be sure she got it all out. She tried to explain how it is an unsured offer and one beyond her wildest expectations.

Father dropped his hand to the table with a thud and said in a quiet but stern voice, “No.”

“No such high faluting pretense will help you become a teacher and return home. It will help you put on airs. And where would you stay, I know the residence is only open over the summer to visitors on church programs.”

“I thought I would get my own place,” Glenda said. No sooner had she spoke and she realized that ended the matter.

“Stay on your own,” Father said in a not so quiet voice. I see you already have ideas that will bring nothing but to grief to us. We’ll speak no more of the matter.”

Mother had her hand raised to say something but saw it would be futile. She lowered her hand and began to clear the dishes off the table.

The next day the church service was taken by a missionary working at a school in Kenya. During the social after the service she raised the need for teaching help in the school and asked if anyone present would volunteer. There would be no pay, only room and board.

Glenda saw a chance to escape. Not as good as working for Higgins but just the same, not a summer spent on the farm and in Grande. She raised her hand and called out, “I’d like to volunteer.” She thought if she spoke out in public it would be more difficult for Father to say no to her doing God’s work.

Mother felt the same and before Father could say a word she rushed to Glenda, wrapped her arms around her and said, “Yes, you should do it.”

Father glowered at the thought but Glenda and Mother had made the right guess, he couldn’t say no under the circumstances.

When Glenda told Higgins he was disappointed but promised to leave open a lab assistant job come September.

A few weeks later a large envelope arrived in the mail from the missionary organization, Learning Beyond Borders, informing Glenda of the location of her school, teaching assignment, shots to take and important medical precautions for the area. She would be teaching classes as circumstances demanded for the students who showed up. The expected number was about 30 students housed in a two room school, one room for the upper class and the other room for those aspiring to such exalted status.

The students would be from the Turkana tribe living in or near a village on Lake Turkana in northern Kenya near the Ethiopian border. Glenda’s knowledge of the geography and demographics of Kenya was nil so she trudged off to the library to at least find out where she would be for the summer. She learned the Turkana were still very traditional and only about 15% Christian, the remainder holding to traditional beliefs. Glenda had no interest in any conversions, just a hope to transmit some level of knowledge that would be helpful.

What excited her is she would be near the Omo River where Richard Leakey’s team of anthropological researcher had made some of his most famous discoveries such as Turkana Boy. She also noted that it might even be possible to visit Rusinga Island on Lake Victoria where Richard Leakey’s parents, Louis and Mary Leakey unearthed a fossil bed of mammals, dated up to 18 million years ago. Glenda’s interest in evolution had always been contemporary and very present day or futuristic. She now looked forward to a chance to learn first hand of early evolutionary developments.

On the last day of exams Glenda found she could not celebrate with the other students. No matter if the occasion meant drunken revelry, or a trip to church to pray for grades on poorly written exams. Glenda had to the other graduate assistants in the painful ritual of grading assignments and exams. In return for her participation she received an invitation to the post-exam party held in the game room of a grad student residence.

Everyone brought their own libations and something to munch on, sort of a potluck. Glenda noticed a table covered in a curious assortment of edibles including a surfeit of tuna casseroles and mac and cheese, some hot dogs and for sweets, a box of Oreos. Not having access to a kitchen Glenda contributed chips, crackers and a wedge of cheddar.

The drinks table included mainly cases of beer with a couple of bottles of something stronger. Glenda added her favorite Black Tower that she had bought with Sara’s help. The first time she ever paid for an entire bottle herself. The party committee had also prepared a large bowl of punch, said to be well laced with alcohol from the lab. Something the wary would be wise to avoid.

Higgins and some of the other professors came to wave the flag and show but left after sharing a beer or two. They didn’t want to cramp the style

of anyone, nor become involved in compromising liaisons. Higgins did have a word with Glenda and wished her well on her summer venture. She promised to send him a postcard.

Glenda planned to stay as long as her wine lasted and she shared liberally with others. Despite what she thought of as restraint a warmth crept over her and her cheeks took on a rosy hue. She decided to sit down and saw someone had left an open package of cigarettes unattended. Taking it as an invitation she helped herself to one and lit it at a handy Bunsen burner. After a couple of tentative puffs she decided to follow Sammy’s advice and inhale. The first couple of times tentatively but finally taking a deep enough drag her lungs burned. She managed to stifle a cough but her head spun a couple of revolutions. She decided that maybe departure time had come.

She found her jacket under the pile and started to put it on as she headed for the door but found her way blocked. Martin, one of the grad instructors from a different section than her’s blocked the way. She knew him slightly from meetings of the grad student instructors. He always seemed on the shy and quiet side, saying little in the meetings. Maybe he found the courage to approach Glenda in the punch bowl.

“Don’t leave yet,” he said. “Come with me” and he led Glenda into an adjacent room with a couch. When she was seated he turned off the light. Glenda found him a gentle but determined young man and one with a clear purpose in mind. He gently but firmly took his time to undo the buttons on her blouse and snap the clasp on her bra. Glenda repeated whatever Martin did. When he unbuttoned her blouse, she unbuttoned his shirt. When his hand slipped inside her blouse and under her bra so did her hands tweak the nipples on his chest. As his hand slid up her leg and groped inside her panties she slid down the zipper on his pants and groped inside his underwear. Both gasped when they reached the goal of their searching. Glenda lifted her hips off the couch to assist the raising of her skirt. At that instant a blinding light filled the room and Martin and Glenda had company. Hasty apologies all round, a quick retreat by the intruders but not

before Glenda had lowered her skirt refastened her clasp and started on her buttons. Martin saw there was no point but to do the same.

“Thanks for everything,” Martin mumbled. “Maybe I could see you again.”

“Can’t, I’m going to Kenya for the summer.”

“How about when you get back. We could have coffee or a drink and swap summer stories.”

“OK, see ya’.”

“See ya’, enjoy Kenya.”

Thirteenth

G us Fraser hid behind a copy of the Star-Phoenix while he waited in the Saskatoon airport for the late arrival of a plane from Vancouver. He had only recently started his second career as a private investigator. Or as he referred to himself, a private dick because a dick is how he felt about his ignominious transition from a respected and decorated officer of the RCMP. He quickly learned that his new job involved none of the drama of a Dashiell Hammett novel or an old Humphrey Bogart movie. Instead he found himself pinned to hours of mind crushing surveillance, awash in too many cups of Tim Horton’s finest and becoming too acquainted with the local newspaper’s crossword p uzzle.

Today was a typical assignment. He waited for the arrival of a well known member of the Vancouver business community who would move on to a suite he had booked at the Bessborough hotel to meet a young lady of his acquaintance, about the same age as his middle daughter. His wife had hired Gus to get the goods, so to speak, so she could move on to a successful and rewarding divorce. Once that had been accomplished she planned to set up housekeeping with a young man of her acquaintance who was slightly older than her eldest daughter. But she wanted no hint of scandal on her part until the divorce papers were duly signed and the eight figure cheque deposited in her own bank . Gus found it all sleazy beyond belief but a job was a job and a buck was a buck and for now this was the only alternative available.

After he finished his third cup of Horton’s for the morning and returned from the Men’s room a familiar figure came through the entrance to the airport lobby. He recognized the full figure and hiker’s stride of Glenda, the young girl he had met at his nephew George’s house. She recognized him immediately and dragged her suitcase over to him, her empty right hand stretched out in greeting.

Glenda pumped Gus’s hand and exclaimed, “Mr. Fraser, what a wonderful surprise.” She really wanted to throw her arms around him in a bear hug or vice versa would be even better.

Gus retrieved his hand and thought, don’t get this woman riled. Gus was happy to have the morning interrupted in a familiar and pleasant fashion. He even thought that if he was a few years younger, or Glenda a few years older, he might be interested enough to investigate her other strengths. Instead he settled for a broad smile and “The pleasure is mine Glenda and the name is Gus.”

They exchanged explanations for being at the airport. Gus said he was meeting a business colleague and learned Glenda was on her way to Kenya. Gus felt jealous. They only had time for a brief exchange before Glenda had to check in and board her plane and the reason for Gus being at the airport stepped into the arrivals area and headed to the cabstand. Gus had prevailed on the RCMP guard at the airport who he knew from days gone by to allow him to park his car in the forbidden arrivals area. Gus settled in behind his quarry and slid his camera with the zoom lens out of its case ready for use on arrival at the Bessborough.

Gus kept a safe distance behind the cab but not so far back he would be cut off by a light change. He occupied his mind by wondering what led the man in front of him to engage in an extramarital affair. Was it an excess of testosterone, a search for something new, grief on the home front or just because he could. His reverie ended when the cab pulled up in front of the Bessborough. It was Gus’s lucky day because as the cab driver unloaded the suitcase from the truck a slim young brunette rushed out of the hotel, threw her arms around the man and covered his mouth with hers, long enough for Gus to click off several revealing photos. He knew there was little point in hanging around because the couple would be fully engaged for the rest of the morning. He could keep an eye on them leaving the hotel because he booked a specially arranged room across the street at the Sheraton Cavalier that looked directly at the front exit from the Bessborough. They would be easy to follow because through his police s

Gus had already checked her license plate number and learned it was attached to a red Mercedes sports car. No doubt a gift from her paramour.

The young woman triggered memories that Gus could never completely shake. Those of his first and only wife of less than a month. He was 22 and had been in the RCMP for almost a year when he had been tagged as a comer and sent to England for a month to learn the interrogation techniques of MI5.

He enjoyed a spacious one-bedroom apartment the Canadian High Commission kept near their offices on Grosvenor Square in Mayfair. It was usually reserved for visiting officials but Gus had a stroke of luck since it was empty during his time in London. His days were fully occupied at MI5 but he had the evening to explore London and test the pubs within walking distance. He quickly settled on the neighbouring, Audley on Mount Street. He found the warmish English bitter to be an acquired taste but one he readily accommodated.

The Audley specialized in traditional but well prepared British fare like steak and kidney pie, fish and chips and bangers and mash. Gus had heard of the dishes from his father but never tasted them before coming to England. Hamish had tried to get Angela to put the favorite dishes of his youth on the table but her Italian heritage would never allow it. The Fraser family ate Italian, following grandma’s recipes that Angela learned from her mother. The only exception was when Hamish celebrated Burn’s day with haggis he bought from a Scottish butcher he knew. Angela always found a reason to visit her sister on the day. Gus never did acquire a taste for haggis but stayed behind for male bonding with his father. And long before Angela would have allowed it, a dram of Lagavulin. He enjoyed the Audley’s steak and kidney pie and fish and chips but one helping of an overloaded plate of bangers and mash was more than enough. He pushed away a plate half full and looked for another pint of bitter to wash down what he could finish.

A week after his arrival Gus woke to a rarity of sun and a sky empty of all but

the birds. A small restaurant in Shepherd’s Market provided a traditional English fry up and set him up for the rest of the morning. He had been told that nothing could beat Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park for entertainment on a warm Sunday morning.

Activity at the Corner was in full swing when Gus arrived. He ed a born again Marxist denouncing the ‘running dogs’ of capitalism, an atheist itting to a creationist that he didn’t mind having an ape as a relative from centuries gone by, and an anti gay rights activist under a well organized attack from those of a very opposite point of view. He stopped briefly to listen to a bearded man in a ragged professorial gown and mortarboard doing a poor job of convincing the crowd that the entire environmental movement was a conspiracy by aliens to deprive the world of reproductive energy.

Gus was finally attracted to a heated exchange between a pot-bellied man with a florid face that attested to opening and closing his days with an up tipped bottle. He removed a flat cap baring a spotted bald pate, rimmed in clumps of red hair and shook it at the young woman challenging his foghorn denunciation of the world of feminism. He proclaimed feminism had brought moral and economic decline and the less gifted species are best chained to the kitchen cooker and kept bare foot and pregnant and thank their lucky stars to have a man to provide the kitchen.

The raven haired young woman’s beauty was contorted by rage as she hurled abuse at the speaker questioning his intelligence, legitimacy and closeness of his relationship to the simian world. Apparently disagreeing with what she said but unable to offer a counter argument a young man bearing a remarkable resemblance to the speaker stepped forth, pushed the woman and growled in an accent Gus could barely understand, “Shut your fuckin’, mouff about me old man, bitch.”

Gus had been mildly amused by the exchange until the aggression turned from

verbal to physical. His police training and more importantly his upbringing by both parents had it burned into his soul that such behavior demanded a response in kind. He stepped forward, grabbed the attacker by the scruff of his neck and pulled him up to face level. Despite the vile smell steaming off the boy’s body and out of his mouth he held his face two inches away and swore, “You have 2 seconds to fuck off after your feet hit the ground.” At 6' 2” and 190 pounds on a well-muscled frame Gus had about a 40 pound and 6 inch advantage. The runt hit the ground running and scurried through the crowd like a mouse searching for its hole. The young woman gaped in silence.

“You OK, Miss”, Gus, asked?

“My Lochinvar,” she gushed and jumped at Gus so he had to catch her. In return she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.

Gus marveled at the glory before him. He had never seen a female form so gorgeous. As a young boy his mother had taken him to see her favorite movie, Gone With the Wind. She liked it so much she returned five times and instead of paying for a baby sitter she brought Gus with her. He enjoyed the film as much as his mother but for different reasons. The love story enraptured his mother. Gus preferred the fight scenes and battles. But he came away convinced that Vivien Leigh, or Scarlett O’Hara as he thought of her was the most beautiful woman who had ever lived. He now had a new idol.

Her raven hair fell to her shoulders in gentle curls and framed an English rose complexion. Her violet eyes, made Elizabeth Taylor’s look pale blue in comparison. At first glance her clothes looked thrown on but at the same time gave the impression they had landed in perfect order and balance. A long peasant skirt draped over gleaming calf length black boots. She wore a loose fitting blouse under an oversize shawl, loosely wrapped around her shoulders. All were of a black hue but each piece a different shade of black to avoid a monochrome effect. The one bow to colour was a red choker collar and the one hint of

anything ostentatious were gold bands on one wrist and silver on the other. She had a style like no other.

“I’m Moira, let’s walk,” she said.

“I’m Gus,” he replied and fell in beside her.

Moira raised a quizzical eyebrow and said, “Gus”?

“Yeah, short for Augustus.”

“I’ll call you Augustus. It fits your stature.”

She took him by the hand and led him across the grass to the Serpentine. They stopped to watch the nannies pushing navy blue prams and the old men with fishing rods dangling in the water not really caring if they caught anything. Just happy to be warming in the sun.

Although she didn’t wear a watch and never did she thought the time had come for a drink. Gus asked if she knew of a pub nearby. She did but preferred wine. She led him out of the park and past Harrod’s to Bill Bently’s wine bar in Beauchamp Place. Gus never drank wine and suggested Moira select her favorite. She glanced over the wine list and found a bottle of what she called claret to her liking. Gus hiccupped at the price but kept his counsel.

While the bottle was being uncorked she reached into a voluminous handbag and brought out a cigarette holder that opened like telescope. She inserted a pink cigarette into the holder. She explained to Gus that it was a Balkan Sobranie with dark Russian tobacco and she reserved them for Sunday. The rest of the time she smoked Gauloises but always with the holder. She offered Gus a cigarette, or fag as she called them. He declined.

Moira tasted the wine and declared it not only drinkable but magnifique. She liked to punctuate her language with the occasional foreign word. Gus took a gulp and must have made a face. Moira laughed, “Not to your liking?”

“No, just the first time I’ve had this wine.”

He took another gulp and declared, “Yeah, it grows on you.” He saw Moira take dainty sips from her glass between drags on her fag and adjusted his gulping accordingly.

“I think you might enjoy it with some food,” Moira ordered a game pate and selection of cheese along with a crusty baguette. Another new experience for Gus.

Gus likened the pate to hamburger that had been put through the meat grinder once too often and the only cheese he had ever tasted was good old Canadian cheddar and Kraft cheese slices. The Camembert oozing onto the plate, beside a nutty goat cheese and pungent Stilton challenged Gus’s taste buds once more. However, by the time only crumbs of cheese and baguette were left on the plate and the last drop of wine sipped Gus had become a convert. This was the first of many lessons he would come to thank Moira for.

Gus asked if she came from London. Moira laughed and said, “You mean you can’t tell when I open my gob? Of course not you’re Canadian. I’m a Geordie from Hexham.”

The closest city Gus could relate to was Newcastle. Gus also learned that one of Hexham’s other claims to fame besides Moira is its location on the Roman wall that had been constructed to minimize pillaging by the marauding savages coming down from the north. No doubt one of the earliest encounters between ancient relatives of his Italian mother and Scots father.

Moira had recently moved to London to study at The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, or RADA as she said with a drawl on the first A. She called it the dream of her life but one that may soon end. Not for lack of talent she pointed out but the cash was dwindling at a more rapid rate than expected. She wasn’t even sure how much longer she could pay the rent on what she called her pokey bed-sit.

As they left the wine bar Gus saw dark clouds approaching and suggested shelter might be in order. Since his apartment, or flat as he had learned from the local lexicon was in walking distance he suggested that is where they might take shelter. That invitation sealed one of the defining moments of his life.

Moira gasped as she stepped through the door. “Smashing. Just smashing your flat. I’ll love it here.”

She threw her shawl over a chair and flopped onto the sofa, pulling out her cigarette holder and a green Balkan Sobranie. She actually purred between drifting smoke rings toward the ceiling. Gus found an ashtray that she rested on her chest above her ample bosom.

Gus looked out onto Grosvenor Square and saw the pigeons huddled under the benches. “Not much of a day for the outdoors. Does a movie interest you?”

“No, I have a better idea than the pictures. Where do you keep your bath?”

Moira walked through a door that Gus pointed to and he could hear the sound of running water. When the water stopped he saw Moira framed in the doorway, not a stich of clothes on her.

Gus could only stare in silence, all the way down from her raven hair, over her marble breasts, past the slight rise in her middle and stopping at the generous shock of raven hair between her legs.

“Come on matey, off with the clothes. I’ll scrub your back and whatever if you do the same for me.”

Gus and Moira stepped out of the bath, all pink and red and rubbed each other dry, spending more time on some body parts than others. When he had finished Moira cupped her hands on Gus’s cheeks and stuck her tongue down to his tonsils. It had the desired effect as Moira led him into the bedroom.

Gus wasn’t exactly a virgin at the time but his experience had been limited to not always successful fumbling in the backseats of cars, or once getting his knees green on a grassy lakeside knoll and in the most successful of all, a girl friend’s parents’ bedroom when they were out of town. All of his encounters had been with what could most accurately be termed naïve young girls. A woman like

Moira was an experience like no other and he always said there never was again. She was an enthusiastic teacher and Gus a most willing and dedicated student. Moira loved teaching. She liked being in bed with a fit and muscular young man who was most well endowed. In fact more than any of the men in her past and she had known a few.

Monday came and Gus and Moira started a life of domesticity. Moira liked to start the day with a morning romp. She said it got the blood flowing and lungs pumped. Gus found it a much better start to the day than orange juice and to show his appreciation would bring her a hot cup of tea to enjoy with her post coital fag. He usually left with Moira still in bed until she roused herself enough for a bath and classes at RADA. She was reading for the part of Elvira in Noel Coward’s, Blithe Spirit under a student director.

The one part of domestic life that Moira liked was cooking. She loved to try new dishes and despite her north of England heritage preferred what she considered foreign which could mean anything from a curry to a boulibase to paella. Of course she never ventured into the kitchen without a glass of red wine in hand. The aftermath of cleaning up was not her agenda. She had no problem letting the dishes pile up in the sink until she ran out of dishes. Gus learned to love the culinary adventures and accepted kitchen patrol, even if the kitchen looked like there had been a recent detonation of an incendiary device.

Gus knew his idyllic life in London would soon end and dreaded the prospect of returning to Canada alone. A life without Moira was not something he could contemplate. Most of the time he tried to put the dreadful idea out of his mind. But he would wake in the middle of night and look at her in a sleep of the innocent and knew denial could not go on. With only a week before departure he decided he only had one recourse __ marry Moira.

He suggested a Saturday dinner at Gopal’s, an Indian restaurant in Soho that Moira claimed as one of her favourite’s. He also drained his bank of

almost all his available cash to buy a diamond ring of more modest proportions than he would have liked. He vowed he would replace it with something more suitable when he received the raise promised on his return to Canada.

Moira always liked to be taken out and the suggestion of Gopal’s especially pleased her. It would have been an easy walk but in honour of the occasion Gus hailed a cab. Moira gushed through the evening about her role in the play and how it was so jolly and delightful and the student directing it was such a charming young girl. When Moira had wiped her plate clean of the fiery vindaloo sauce with the last of the naan bread and drained her glass of her favorite claret and started on a shared dish of kulfi ice cream Gus dropped the red velvet box on the table. He had thought of going down on one knee but a glance at the floor argued no.

“For me,” Moira asked?

“Open it.”

Moira opened the box and held up the ring. Gus took the ring from her and placed it on her left hand and said, “I love you, wanna get married?”

Moira’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped as the colour drained from her face. “Married? I’ve never thought of such a thing. Would I have to go to Canada?”

“Well yes, that’s where I live and work.”

“What the hell, why not try something new and a new place. But no fuss on the ceremony. Just us two. Now, I think this calls for champagne. OY, waiter, a bottle of French bubbles over here, the one they call the old lady.”

They married on Friday and honeymooned on the weekend at Brighton. In keeping with her heritage Moira’s choice had been Blackpool. Her father had been a er of the football team and his hero had been Stanley Mathews, the most famous player to ever put on a Blackpool jersey. The proximity of Brighton won out and the weekend was spent walking the pier on a very English day of racing gray clouds and periodic rainfall.

The final week flashed by as Gus finished his course and Moira had to on Elvira with great regret and a torrential downpour of tears. She claimed it to be the hardest decision of her life. Elvira or Canada and Gus. It had been touch and go.

Gus had been posted to RCMP headquarters in Ottawa where he could use his newly acquired interrogation skills. Moira and Gus landed at the airport in early February with the sun glistening off the snow around the tarmac and the mercury well below zero. Moira had not been prepared for a cold so penetrating. She had asked Gus what clothes to buy for Canada and he advised her to wait until arrival. Maybe not his best decision. “Blimey that’s cold, it’d freeze piss before it hit the ground,” were Moira’s first words as she stepped on Canadian soil.

“Here we say it would freeze the balls off a brass monkey.”

Gus wrapped his coat around Moira to keep her warm until the cab reached the apartment Gus had rented prior to his departure for England. Moira didn’t remove the coat until she had filled the bath with steaming hot water to, as she said, “Get some feeling back in me ass and tits.”

While Moira thawed out Gus went shopping for groceries and winter attire for the lady of his life. Gus spent the next day at work and Moira huddled under the feather comforter praying for an early spring. Instead of spring Ottawa turned white from a record blizzard that lasted two days closing the airport. Gus even stayed home one day to keep Moira company and cheer her up. When the storm ended, Gus brought Moira a cup of tea in bed, kissed her good-bye and left for work. He returned that night, opened the door and cheerfully shouted, I’m home, jump into bed.” A roar of silence answered his call.

He found the note on the pillow beside Moira’s winter clothes and wedding and engagement rings. “Sorry me darling but I’m no polar bear. Enjoy your life. Love, Moira.”

His next credit card statement included a charge for a one-way ticket to Heathrow.

Gus immediately requested a transfer to Inuvik. The initial reaction from the powers that be was negative. They didn’t think the time and money spent to train him in the latest interrogation techniques would be justified in the far reaches of Northern Canada. Also the reports on his performance while in Britain had been exemplary. But true to his Scottish heritage, Gus held fast until he got his way. He finally received his transfer notice and a one-way ticket to Tuktoyaktuk. Not what he asked for but close enough.

In time Gus developed an enviable record for his work with the people of the north and future transfers moved him slowly back south. He had several opportunities to return to Ottawa or larger settlements but always said no. It slowed his progress through the ranks but his last transfer to Lac La Ronge fifteen years after first arriving in the north brought along the rank of Sergeant.

His first day in the office Gus tried to clear his desk of the mountain of mail awaiting the new sergeant. Some of it had followed him from his last posting in Yellowknife. An envelope with a UK stamp stood out from the rest. Without opening it he had a foreboding of contents that would change his life. He didn’t know if it would be for the better or not. At first he put the envelope aside and continued with others clearly marked as official RCMP correspondence. But he couldn’t put off the inevitable and after brewing a pot of bracing black coffee he grasped his skinning knife and slit open the UK letter.

“Dear Dad,” the letter opened. It went on, “My name is Moira, after my mother. I am sure you will her even if you only knew each other for so short a time. I was born in Hexham, eight months after my mother returned from Canada. She did love you but knew she could never survive the winters. Every year on my birthday we had a special remembrance for you and she always signed both your names to my gifts. As you can see from the enclosed picture I have your red hair. They call me Ginger over here. Mother ed away from lung cancer last month. She continued with the fags right up to the end. I could do nothing about it. I thought you may want to know what happened to her and maybe even about my existence. I am now living with my grandparents in Hexham. I hope we can meet some day, somewhere. Your loving daughter, Moira.”

They did meet. Gus stood among the other proud parents when Moira crossed the stage to receive her Honours degree in Romance Languages from the University of Durham. They spent the weekend together and it was the last time they had been in each other’s company. She moved to Paris where she gained notoriety as a freelance writer, specializing in lurid tales of the rich and famous. Some of which she turned into page turning potboilers. Her s put her in touch with a number of male escorts, none of which attracted her enough for marriage. She had her father’s red hair but there was a lot of her mother in Moira. Gus always looked forward to Moira’s monthly letter and he replied the next day. As the technical world changed they eventually switched to e-mail and on a more frequent basis than once a month.

La Ronge proved to be the last post for Gus. At the end of five years the RCMP was ready to promote him to Inspector and give him a cushy istrative job mentoring the recruits in Regina. His red hair was accompanied by a temper that didn’t fire frequently but when provoked shot off like a roman candle. He had arrested one of the locals from La Ronge for the murder of a school teacher who had given his son a failing grade. The trial had been by judge only and Gus waited in the courtroom in full dress scarlet regalia waiting the verdict. He couldn’t believe his ears when she pronounced the defendant not guilty on the grounds of justifiable homicide.

Gus’s rage surged from guts to mouth without encountering any brain cells. He shouldn’t have really said, “You are dumbest fucking bitch to ever park her oversized ass on the bench. Your brains must be between your legs.”

It took a great deal of effort from senior RCMP officials and the Minister of Justice to keep Gus out of the clink for his outburst. But nothing could be done for his future. He had to resign but was able to keep his pension because of his past record.

Once the matter was settled he boarded a Qantas flight for Australia and the start of a round the world trip to decide what next.

Fourteenth

G lenda’s flight rolled up to the Saskatoon air terminal at 7:00 p.m. She had returned home from Kenya via London and Toronto. Nothing she wanted more than a stopover in both places but her father left no doubt he expected a direct trip home. As engers retrieved bags from overhead bins and underneath seats Glenda stretched and shuffled out to meet her waiting parents and hopefully the bags last seen in the Nairobi ai rport.

The instant she set foot in the arrivals lounge Mother ran forward and squeezed the air out of her with a massive hug. Mother’s tear stained face beamed at Glenda before she smothered her in kisses. Father kept a discreet distance until Mother stepped back and he moved in to give Glenda a peck on the cheek and pat on the back. “Welcome home girl.”

Glenda’s backpack and duffel bag bumped down the baggage chute and onto the slowly rotating carousel. She reached down to pick them up but Father stepped in front and grabbed both. He led the way to the truck and Glenda followed with Mother, arm-in-arm.

Mother kept up a stream of questions about Glenda’s health, how she lived, what the school was like and if she liked the students. Glenda gave a positive response on every question and assured her parents it had been the experience of a lifetime. Father wondered about the religious side of her experience and Glenda kept up the positive replies. He reacted less than positively when she told him that a woman, the school heistress, conducted the Sunday service. He reacted more positively when Glenda added that often she read the scripture that introduced the sermon of the day.

The familiar drive up the lane to the family house left Glenda with an uncomfortable feeling that even though she was changing, her world was not. Mother startled her back to the present with the customary family refrain, “Penny for your thoughts”?

“Nothing,” Glenda said. “Just trying to where I packed a few things for you.”

Glenda hadn’t much money to spend on gifts, nor room in her bags. She had wanted to buy Mother one of the brightly coloured kitenge dresses the African women wore but she knew Father would never approve anything he considered garish. She had finally settled on a couple of batiks. One of two African women in animated conversation with two large gourd water pots perched on their head and a small child pulling at the dress of the youngest. The second batik showed two women stirring cooking pots, one younger than the other, maybe a daughter and the older woman carrying an infant on her back. A man holding a long walking stick with large ringlets in his ears watched the women at work. A very African scene Glenda thought, the women at work and the man watching. It still didn’t have the contrast of some real scenes Glenda observed in the countryside of women walking along the roadside with massive bundles of fire wood balanced on their head and a man walking in front holding nothing more than a walking stick. Glenda wondered how the load didn’t drive their necks into their shoulders. She also had a clear idea of what the women should do with the man’s walking stick.

A gift for Father proved an almost impossible task. He didn’t like gifts and she could have got away with buying him nothing. On one of her few visits to Nairobi she found a shop selling Kenyan meerschaum pipes. If she had the money she would have bought one of the pipes of finely carved traditional African figures. She finally opted for a curved Sherlock Holmes style calabash pipe made from a gourd and lined with meerschaum. The large size was beyond her budget but the smaller ones just fit her wallet. The amount came to more than she spent for Mother but at least it relieved Glenda of the gift worry for

Father.

Both parents of course said, ‘you needn’t have’, and ‘shouldn’t have’ but at the same time expressed pleasure and gave thanks and a double hug. Mother had the batiks framed and hung them in the dining room in a place of honour. Father saved his pipe to smoke on Sunday and other special days.

Glenda didn’t bother to bring out the gift she had bought for Sara, the most brightly coloured kitenge dress she could find. Nor the gift for Higgins, a polished Masai war club, not to be used as such but more a symbol of authority.

Glenda only had one souvenir for herself, or at least that is all she showed her parents. A small, framed sketch of a smiling black woman dressed in a multicoloured kitenge dress standing at the front of a single story building with a sign that said, Lake Turkana School.

Glenda ed her nervousness waiting in the Heathrow lounge watching the clock tick down to boarding time for the final leg of her voyage to Kenya. The trip had started with a tearful farewell in the Saskatoon airport and repeating several times, no, she was not afraid to be making her first trip in an airplane. Father put on a brave face as the family expert who flew white knuckled on a trip to Scotland many years ago with his own father. Mother had now lost the desire to fly, along with most of her other adventurous ambitions.

The British Airways flight dropped below the clouds giving Glenda her first view of the Rift Valley and groupings of small huts and herds of cattle. For the final approach to the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport the plane circled over the Nairobi game park and Glenda saw a giraffe loping over the savannah and a small herd of zebras kicking up the red Kenya earth, startled by the roar of the plane as the pilot throttled back.

Glenda walked out of the customs area into the airport and saw a large man with rings in his ears holding up a sign with her name on it. He introduced himself as Abraham and said the school had sent him to collect her. He wanted to leave immediately to be home in time for church and supper. He had packed a lunch for her that she could eat on the way. They drove mostly in silence and Glenda ate her roast beef sandwiches, a sweet miniature banana and strong milky sugared tea from a thermos jug. Glenda didn’t mind the silence because once they left the Nairobi traffic behind and drove north to Lake Turkana she became engrossed by the roadside scene of men prodding donkeys laden with firewood and women walking with a variety of large burdens balanced on their head and sometimes an infant bundled on their back.

The four lane highway turned into a two lane road and then a single lane road where advancing drivers played a game of chicken to see which one would slip off to hang two wheels on the dirt shoulder. Abraham seemed convinced the St. Francis medal dangling from the mirror assured his invincibility since he never wavered from his chosen path down the middle. Glenda later learned that Abraham drove like most Africans with two speeds, full ahead and windshield smashing stops to those unprepared to be hurtled forward as a foot stood on the brakes. They finally came to a weathered sign, Turkana Christian School and beyond the sign a barely visible track led them to their final destination.

Abraham pulled up before a small, once white building made of cinder bricks and unnecessarily sounded the horn. A large African woman already stood at the front door and marched toward the land Rover, arms outstretched in welcome. “Glenda, in the name of the Lord our Father I welcome you to our humble little mission.” Glenda did not think of herself as a small person but she disappeared into the woman’s embrace.

“My name is Wilma and I’m the heistress, come in for tea.” Wilma wore a brightly coloured dress that Glenda would learn is called a kitenge. Wilma explained she came from the Luo tribe and her home was on Lake Victoria. She

had left her husband and daughter behind to take the position at the behest of her church.

Wilma’s position allowed her to have two rooms. A combination living room, kitchen and a second bedroom. She waved at a wooden chair beside the kitchen table and filled two mugs with strong milky, sweet tea that Glenda learned was the standard in Kenya. Wilma also cut slices of freshly baked bread, the smell still filled the room and ed a pot of marmalade to go with it. After Glenda filled Wilma in on her background and journey to Nairobi they got down to the details of the expectations for Glenda. Wilma expressed hearty approval that Glenda was in an Education faculty. Glenda decided not to tell her she planned to exit as soon as possible.

A tour of the school’s two rooms took a few minutes, one for the lower grades and the second for the middle school grades. The students who left middle school and wished to continue their studies had to move to a larger community. The student body was mostly female as the nomadic nature of the Turkana meant the boys were busy tending herds and the life of a school room held no interest for them.

Wilma next took Glenda to what she called the dormitory where she introduced her to, Fatima, a Kikuyu woman from the Rift Valley who had just received her Education degree from the University of Nairobi. Glenda and Fatima would share two single cots, a small table and two wooden chairs that almost filled the room. Meals were taken outside under a sheltering canvas canopy. All plumbing was outdoors including a separate men’s and women’s outhouse and water came from a single pump, the gift of a religious organization. The pump replaced polluted water from the lake or streams and most importantly the need to search over a large area to even find water in the arid land. Without the pump many of the girls would not have time to attend classes.

Glenda was the only mzungu, to use the Swahili for white person, on the

teaching staff of six women and that is the word the staff and students used to refer to her _ the mzungu, not in a derogatory way but merely descriptive. Glenda did put in a lot of effort to learn some basic Swahili as well as the local Turkana dialect.

Glenda immersed herself in her first teaching experience and getting to know the students. She enjoyed her success in the classroom and time spent helping the students master rudimentary skills manipulating numbers. She also found a new interest in literature since the teachers often had to put in time on subjects that were not their specialty. The time she had left over was spent learning as much as she could about Turkana culture.

It helped that Glenda had a farming background and some understanding of livestock, the heart of Turkana life and culture. Their herds of goats, camels and especially cattle provide a source of material and food needs and are the basis of wealth and social standing and the primary assets of negotiation in the barter for wives. The Turkana land is an inhospitable one of parched desert, sunbaked rocks and low barren hills. Most days are dry and hot with only occasional interruption of rainfall and some years of no rain. It is a nomadic life of survival as they travel in search of food and water for the herds and themselves.

Glenda had hoped to visit the Omo River where Richard Leakey had made his famous discovery of the Turkana Boy and also Rusinga Island on Lake Victoria, where Leakey’s parents had unearthed an 18 million year old fossil bed of mammals. The Omo River was close enough to the school she managed a visit one weekend but never did make it to Lake Victoria. Since that is where she came from Wilma gave her an excellent description of the Lake but had never been to Rusinga Island and knew nothing of the Leakey discoveries.

On the only trip Glenda made to Nairobi she first went to the National Museum of Kenya and spent most of her time pouring over the Leakey discoveries. Of course she had a special affinity for the fossils from Lake Turkana. The time to

leave came too soon and she walked from the museum to the Norfolk Hotel across the street from the University of Nairobi. She was to meet Abraham on the veranda of Nairobi’s most famous and historic hotel. The idea of ordering a glass of wine did occur to her but she thought better of it. The fear of Abraham reporting to Wilma that the mzungu woman was caught tippling an alcoholic beverage made her decide on tea. Abraham arrived early and turned down her offer to share the tea. As always, he was anxious to return home in time for vespers.

Glenda’s life settled into a comfortable routine until the herd boys told everyone to be on guard. A lion had started to take goats from the herd. Glenda felt extra nervous because she was now alone in her tiny room. Her roommate, Fatima, had to return to her village to help with her young siblings and cook for her father because her mother had been put in the hospital. A week after she had left and just as Glenda was getting accustomed to her solitude a roar that sounded as if it was in her room shocked her awake with a scream almost as loud as the roar. Her fearsome shriek brought Wilma on the run, dressed only in a white nightdress. Glenda collapsed into her arms and buried her head between the large woman’s breasts.

“My poor darling, you’re trembling. Come along and we’ll have a cup of tea.”

Glenda sat in silence drinking her tea and nibbled on one of Wilma’s homemade scones. She turned to Wilma and said, “The noise terrified me. I thought the lion had come right into my room. The blanket that covers the doorway wouldn’t stop a thing.”

“Would you like to stay here with me for the rest of the night,” Wilma asked?

Glenda wasn’t sure what that meant but she readily agreed and soon found out.

The bedroom had a single bed only slightly larger than Glenda’s cot. To fit in Wilma put her arms around Glenda so the two had to cuddle up.

Glenda had never been in bed with a woman, in fact she had never been in bed with anyone beside her old stuffed panda. She felt a comfortable warmth lying next to Wilma that intensified when Wilma kissed her on the cheek and said, “Good night my dear.” She looked forward to repeating the situation on two subsequent nights and felt very disappointed when Wilma assured Glenda the lion had long gone and she should return to her own bed.

A few days later Wilma’s husband Jack came for the weekend. Glenda had strange feelings of jealousy to think a man now lay where she once lay. Glenda never slept with Wilma again but she wanted to, even though she ed, Leviticus 18:22 “Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.” Despite the male literal statement Glenda was sure it applied to both sexes. It didn’t matter, she could not ignore the sensation in her gut and her groin.

Glenda timed her return so she only had to spend a weekend at home on the farm before returning to university. She welcomed the opportunity to rest, relax and sleep off her jet lag. When she wasn’t sleeping she spent her time indoors helping Mother. Once she would have looked forward to helping Father with the cows but now she preferred to keep her distance. He never missed an opportunity to impress upon her his expectations after graduation. The importance of an escape strategy never strayed far from her thoughts. It would have been nice to catch up with Sammy Caw but that would mean a trip into town.

The church congregation had donated money for Glenda’s flight to Kenya so she would be obliged to report on her experience. She had a short speech prepared and some photos to her presentation. Mother and Father sat in the front row smiling proudly, knowing their daughter occupied centre stage. The church

had a reception afterwards of sandwiches and cake, along with coffee and tea. As Glenda balanced a cup in one hand and a sandwich in the other she saw Father advancing on her with a young man in tow. Father dragged the poor lad along with the same determination he showed pulling a calf into the barn to turn it into a steer. The lad’s face expressed the same helpless resignation as the calf.

The pair arrived at the moment Glenda chomped down on the last bite of her sandwich. Caught with a full mouth she had no immediate reply when Father pronounced, “This is Randall.” Glenda gingerly offered a hand, swallowed and replied, “Nice to meet you.”

Father took command of the conversation. Randall it seemed had everything a girl should want. As the only son he would inherit one of the largest and richest farms in the area and the bonus is it abutted their land. Father had dreams of the glory of a united, grand estate.

Randall had also shown good judgment by enrolling in the nearby agricultural college to learn something practical that would put him at the forefront of farming technology. Father told Randall that Glenda was at university and would be returning to the area in three years to teach but she would be back often enough that she and Randall could get better acquainted. “I’ll leave you two young folks alone to get started.”

Glenda muttered something like, “of course.” Before her stood a young man already over six feet with broad shoulders and tousled straw coloured hair. He wore the unmistakable farmer’s tan of a white forehead and bronzed face from long hours in the fields. The suit he wore may have fit once, probably on graduation day and an offending tie now loosened enough to undo the top button of his almost white shirt. Glenda bet the first move on returning home would be to trade the suit for overalls.

Glenda had more known of Randall than known him. He had not attended school in Grande. He had been sent away to a religious school to ensure he kept a clean mind and clean body, untouched by the blasphemy that corrupted the halls of Grande High.

Glenda and Randall were equally at a loss for words and shuffled in silence hoping the other would speak up. Randall gave in first, “So you been with the black folk in Africa.”

“Yes, and you’re studying agriculture.”

Mother looked over and saw the shuffling feet and red faces and took pity on them, “Sorry Randall, but I have to collect Glenda. The cows need tending, even on the Sabbath.”

It was a toss up who showed the most relief.

Fifteenth

G lenda had to once again suffer the drive to Saskatoon, scrunched between her parents, to start her second year of studies. At least this year it did not carry the same weight of occasion. No tears, a simple kiss good-bye and good wishes for the coming year after extracting a solemn promise to be home in October for Thanksgiving. Glenda stood with Gerda on the front steps of the house waving good-bye. She would have preferred to get settled in her room but she could not turn down Gerda’s offer of tea and sugar cookies and at least a short description of her summer adventures in Kenya.

Classes were not scheduled to start for a couple of days and Glenda wanted to use the time to reconnect with friends and colleagues of last year. She especially wanted to find Martin and test their once brief connection. She had written him from Kenya but never received a reply. She concocted a number of explanations, including the obvious, he had lost interest. She put that aside and preferred something like a lost letter in the Nairobi post office or maybe he did reply and his letter met the same fate.

She went to the lab the next day and found a solitary person lost in his slides. “Excuse me,” she asked?

The young man stiffened, sending his slides crashing to the floor.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. My name is Glenda Miller and I’m looking for Martin, will he be in today?”

A French accent replied, “I didn’t hear you come in. Martin left us for a post-doc in my old lab in Lyon. That’s in by the way. My name is Dominic Lebeau and I’m here on a post doc to work with the great Professor Higgins.”

Glenda gave a once over to a dark haired young man with the lithe figure of a dancer. She held out a hand in greeting.

He smiled warmly and covered her hands in his, “Enchanté.”

Glenda heartily approved, in silence of course. Verbally she said, “Pleased to meet you, maybe we can work together.”

“I hope so, I’ll see if I can influence Professor Higgins to make it a fait accompli.”

At that moment the door to the lab opened and a voice behind them said, “Influence me to do what?”

“Glenda and I were just chatting about working together. C’est possible?”

“Dominic, not only possible but obligatory. I want you to work with my prize student. She hasn’t been in the science game so long she has paradigm blinders implanted behind her ears. She’ll give you a fresh look at the world. For now Glenda please step into my office I want to talk about a paper idea for us to work on.”

“Me too,” Dominic pleaded.

“We’ll see,” Higgins replied.

Glenda followed Higgins into his office and learned he wanted her to work on a project that in his opinion would result in a paper they could present together at a conference in Honolulu in December. She took the opportunity to present him with the Masai war club, which pleased him no end. He displayed it prominently on the front of his desk and as he said, “Readily accessible to rout intruders and unruly graduate students.”

Glenda found only one significant change in the girl’s residence. Sara had been itted to med school and convinced her parents she deserved her own apartment. Glenda pined for Sara’s old room but knew she had no chance. Gerda had it reserved for her favorite, Carrie, a boot licking little girl always at Gerda’s beck and call. Glenda called her Sister Pious and when she let it slip out with one of the other girls the name spread throughout the residence.

Glenda, too, wished she had her own place. Or even better, share an apartment with Sara. But she knew Father would never relent to her living somewhere without a supervising authority like Gerda. Finding her own place and escaping from Gerda would be an objective for next year.

Glenda did get Sara’s address and phone number and arranged to have lunch at her favorite Italian restaurant. Glenda arrived early to claim their usual corner table. She ordered a glass of the only wine she had ever tasted, Black Tower. Her first alcoholic drink since the graduate party tasted like a second.

Glenda almost didn’t recognize Sara in hip hugging blue jeans and a low cut, clinging, red, white and green striped tee shirt with Italia stretching from right to left breast. Her once dark blond hair had been trimmed to a bob and dyed peroxide. Almost as startling is something had turned her brown eyes blue. Coloured lenses Sara confessed when asked and added she also had a violet pair, for an Elizabeth Taylor look.

Sara flashed her famous smile, opened her arms for a hug and said, “It’s not polite to stare so close your mouth and say something.”

Glenda shook herself alive, jumped out of the chair and threw her arms around Sara. In her matching brown skirt and beige pullover she felt part of the woodwork beside Sara.

“Wow, look at you, what happened?”

“I stayed with my cousin in Italy this summer. She works for the organization that produces Milan Fashion Week. I learned all about haute couture, hair, makeup, food, wine and of course Italian men. I have so much I could tell you it would take more than one lunch.”

When she saw the new Sara, Glenda reluctantly handed her the kitenge and told her it was something worn by all the women in Kenya. Sara held the dress up and paused for a moment before bursting into a wide grin, saying, “Perfect, no one else in my class will have one and I love to stand out.”

Relieved at Sara’s reaction Glenda asked, “How about lunch, will we have our usual pizza?”

A cloud of disapproval dropped over Sara’s face and in a shrill tone replied, “I don’t think I’ll ever eat pizza in North America again and certainly not in this place. I had veal for the first time in Italy and loved it. I see they have veal scaloppini, I’ll try that.”

Glenda had been looking forward to the pizza but couldn’t eat a whole one alone. Like pre-Italy Sara she had never tried veal and thought today would be a good time to start.

“Make that two,” Glenda said.

Sara reached over for Glenda’s wine glass, “what are you drinking,” and helped herself. “Yeck, Black Tower. Time you moved on to real wine. I’ll get us a bottle of Chianti. My cousin and I stayed in a chateau in the middle of a vineyard in Tuscany and we drank Chianti at every meal.”

Glenda had no idea what she was getting into but she trusted Sara and wanted to learn as much as she could from her. The veal seemed almost like chicken and she did like the sauce. The accompanying dish was pasta in a tomato sauce that was another new taste for her but also to her liking. The wine didn’t quite meet her approval. The dryness made her mouth pucker and reach for the water glass. Maybe with greater familiarity she might develop Sara’s obvious delight for Chianti.

Between mouthfuls Sara regaled Glenda with tales of her summer adventure. She kept them mostly to food and fashion in Milan, a weekend in the Lake District north of Milan and obligatory trips to sites of Rome and a trip to Florence for art, history and stock up on shoes. She thrust a leg out to display a

pair of soft as butter, copper coloured, thigh length boots.

Glenda sat in rapt and jealous attention. She finally intervened and asked, “And the Italian men, what about them?”

Sara put a hand on Glenda’s arm and said, “Flavio, I’ll tell you about Flavio, but not in a public place. Something to look forward to, almost post doc carnality.”

Sara ordered a cappuccino to round out the meal and of course Sara followed the lead. Sara had gone from casual to regular smoker in Italy and couldn’t light up without offering one to Glenda. She lit both their cigarettes with a gold Dunhill lighter bought at the airport duty free shop.

Glenda had become accustomed enough to smoking now to gently inhale. She blew out a stream of smoke and said, “Thanks, I probably should buy a package myself.”

“Damn right, if you’re going to keep smoking you can’t leach off others all the time. Anyway, I have a purchase to make from a guy who works in the kitchen here, let’s go.”

Sara led the way behind the restaurant and knocked on the door. Glenda couldn’t hear the exchange but a young man in whites appeared with rubber gloves of a dishwasher. He handed Sara a plastic bag and she returned a wad of bills. They kissed each other on the cheek and he disappeared inside.

“Grade A, first class grass, want to come home with me and share a toke?”

Glenda looked bewildered and asked, “A what?”

“A toke. A t. Marijuana.”

Taken aback and not sure how to respond Glenda opted for the negative, “Thanks, not today.”

The two friends parted with a hug and exchange on how nice to see each other again. Sara also promised to tell Glenda the place, date and time of an party.

Glenda ripped a page out of her notebook and wrote in big block letters, Research First and stuck it on the mirror in her room. She knew she had to keep up her classroom performance but she knew success with Higgins would give her opportunities away from Saskatoon and most important of all, away from Grande. Most of her classes were in Science but she also had a couple of courses to take as part of her Education program. Somehow she had to make the switch to full time Science.

She had to meet Higgins for lunch at the Faculty Club to set up her research schedule and finalize his expectations. As she reached for the door a voice intervened, “Miss Miller I presume?” Jockey McLaren had arrived just in time to usher her in.

“Professor McLaren, I’m surprised you me.”

“Miss Miller your fame is legendary as the only student to get an A in my calculus class. Not only that, you are the first Education student who ever received an A. What brings you into the den of academic iniquity?”

“Me”, said Higgins who appeared behind. “What are you doing to my star student you old wretch, or should I say lech?”

“Just recognizing her talent, mean mouth. Young lady, if this cretin doesn’t treat you like a lady I have a place for you in Mathematics.”

Higgins’ naturally slim frame allowed him to have the club’s signature clam chowder and apple pie with brandy sauce, all washed down with a pint of Guinness. Lacking the same silhouette, Glenda choose the fruit salad and a pot of tea. Higgins suggested a drink but caution said no, even though she wanted to say yes.

Higgins outlined a research project that would produce a paper for a conference in Honolulu between Christmas and New Year’s. The paper would have t authorship with Glenda responsible for the presentation. The idea of standing up and speaking to a room full of famous scientists by herself made her innards churn but she recognized the importance of doing so. She was equally certain what her father would think but this time Glenda was prepared to commit her first act of open defiance.

The project involved working with Dominic and Higgins. The time with Higgins would be during the day since he liked to spend the evening with his family so

that is when she would partner Dominic. Her thoughts had already wandered to how she would react alone together in the lab.

Glenda started her day early, the same as on the farm. She came down first to breakfast and never back for lunch. Instead she made sandwiches out of whatever little Mary set out in the morning. And as often as possible she ed on residence dinner and prayer session. She did make an exception on Sunday, always showing up for the obligatory dinner and making herself available for Mother’s regular as clockwork phone call.

Higgins and Glenda soon worked out a schedule to accommodate them both and he was amazed how quickly she caught on. He did stay late the first time to help Dominic and Glenda get started on a positive footing. When all seemed to be going smoothly he left them, “Good luck and have fun but eyes on the work.”

Glenda didn’t expect, or even want anything to move too quickly but after a few days and Dominic kept his distance she wondered if she had put her foot wrong or he just didn’t find her attractive. She started bringing donuts or cookies to have with their evening coffee. She even thought of a bottle of wine but that seemed excessive. Dominic offered to share the cost but she would hear nothing of it. She said the pleasure was all hers.

The dance of the hedgehogs continued for a couple of days until in a state of exasperation Glenda blurted out, “What don’t you like about me?”

“I like everything about you. You’re the best lab partner.”

“But not attractive enough. Not sexy.”

Dominic stepped forward, tipped a wide-eyed Glenda backwards and kissed her in the best French manner.

“Go ahead, snitch on me to Higgins and I’ll get fired for sexually harassing his favorite student.”

Glenda caught her breath and did the same to Dominic, including folding him backwards.

“Now who’ll do the snitching?”

Before Dominic could catch his breath Glenda started to strip off his lab coat.

“Not now, when I get back.”

“Get back from where?”

“, I leave early in the morning for a week.”

“Why?”

“Un anniversaire.”

“Whose anniversary, your parents?”

“No, it’s what you call a birthday and I can’t miss it. It’s my Tante Claire. She almost raised me. It’s her sixtieth and she has made it a command performance.”

“I don’t want a quick grope in the lab with you Glenda. We deserve more.”

“I don’t mind, it’s a start.”

“Mais no, cheri, I’m back in a week. One more kiss to me.”

Dominic left a breathless Glenda who headed home to give her vibrator a serious workout.

Glenda lay on the bed, naked from the waist down, flushed and breathing hard from her own workout with a fantasy Dominic. It took several rings before she heard her phone.

“Glenda, what you doing. I was about to hang up.” It was Sara’s voice.

“Sorry. I was in Fantasyland.”

“Who with?”

“Never mind, how can I help you?”

“No, it’s me who is doing the helping. My roommate, Judy, is having a party. I think you’d like it. Her boyfriend just dumped her and she is calling it a ‘Tears and Cheers Party’. Bring something to drink and snack on. Maybe a bottle of Chianti and those new corn chips and devil’s own salsa that burns at both ends.”

Glenda had an obsession with punctuality. She had not yet learned the art of arriving fashionably late. She turned up at Sara’s door while she was still putting the finishing touches to her jet black mascara. Not to waste time they tested Glenda’s Chianti to make sure it was palatable for the party. By the time they drained a second glass the room overflowed with people of both sexes, all dressed to star in a mating ritual of attracting the opposite sex, if not until death do us part, at least until morning light. Judy had the foresight to invite more men than women. Soon most of the women had the attention of at least two men and for the more attractive ones, several more. Judy had tried to make sure there weren’t too many of the latter.

Sara grabbed Glenda by the hand and dragged her into the bedroom. “Come in here, this party is about to swing and we need a little kick-up.”

She pushed Glenda onto the bed, plopped down beside her, and pulled out what looked like a cigarette from her handbag.

“I don’t feel like a cigarette,” Glenda said.

“It’s not a cigarette you silly broad, it’s a t and you are about to take your first hit,” Sara commanded.

Sara lit the t, took a drag and handed it to Glenda who took a gentle pull on the white cylinder and immediately blew out a tiny puff of smoke.

“No, suck it down, like this.”

Glenda ed Sammy Caw’s advice of long ago on the art of inhaling and sucked so hard she almost swallowed the t. She immediately felt like her head would spin off her shoulders.

Oblivious to Glenda’s condition Sara jerked her off the bed and shoved her toward the door. “Let’s rock babe,” Sara hooted.

Glenda found her way blocked by a linebacker sized young man who introduced himself as Max. That is the last thing she ed until she came to back on the bed in her own personal fog. She struggled onto her elbows and looked down to see her shirt open and bra gone. She quickly covered her breasts with her hands and then felt a rough hand fumble up her thigh and tug at her panties. She couldn’t make out who owned the hand since her skirt covered his head. Glenda jerked back to free her right foot that she drove into the young man’s shoulder. She had aimed for his face. She did kick strong enough to fly him off the bed.

“Whoa,” he moaned. “What happened?” You didn’t say no a minute ago.”

Glenda lashed out again but missed by inches.

“OK, I know when I’m not wanted but you will never know what you missed.”

Glenda searched for her bra and noticed she was not alone in the bedroom. She noticed a rhythmic rise and fall of the duvet on the bed beside her. Just as she found her bra and strapped it on the duvet let out a deep moan. Suddenly the duvet flew off the bed and a young man jumped out, naked from the waist down, in a state of depletion holding a pair of panties and shouted, “I did it.”

A naked girl leaped at him and cried, “Give ’em back, you weeny little bastard.”

Glenda fastened the last button on her shirt and fled.

Glenda strayed little from her room for the rest of the weekend. She put in time catching up on her studies and even getting ahead on lab assignments for Chemistry and Molecular Biology. She made a quick calculation on Sunday when Dominic’s plane might be landing. Her first idea had been to surprise him at the airport but realized the time conflicted with Mother’s weekly phone call. There was no question which alternative she preferred but also no question which alternative won out. She learned at great length of events at church, a new batch of kittens in the barn and Father’s impending cold. It was almost time to turn in when Mother said good-bye and to say your prayers. Glenda would be sure to arrive early at the lab.

The lab was still in darkness as Glenda turned the key. She knew by now that Dominic wouldn’t be on scene at such an hour since he maintained a French schedule. Unless Higgins issued a royal command he never arrived until 9:00 and more likely 9:30. But on the flip side he was usually the last to leave. She didn’t expect to see him but wanted to drop off the welcome home card she had picked up at the corner drug store as well as the paper maché red rose of her own construction.

The sun had set by the time Glenda made it back to the lab. She saw the lights on and peeked through the door window to see Dominic bent over a table but to her disappointment Higgins stood beside him. She threw open the door and let her book bag thump onto the floor. She flashed a smile and held out her hand to Dominic, “Welcome back.”

“Come on you can do better than that, at least give him a hug,” Higgins said with a mischievous grin.

Glenda held out her arms and gave Dominic a polite squeeze. He replied more firmly and gave Glenda a French peck on both cheeks.

“Much better,” said Higgins. “I’m off to the club now, see you both for our regular lunch meeting tomorrow.”

The door had barely clicked shut and Glenda fulfilled her fantasy from the time Dominic left. The kiss he returned made her tingle to her toes and she felt the warm damp in her panties. She pushed Dominic back to the lab table and reached between his legs to pull down his zipper. Instead she found buttons that turned her fingers to thumbs.

Dominic struggled free and gasped, “Not here and like this. I don’t want our first time together to be on a slab of lab table. I’ll cook for us tomorrow.”

“You’re on and I’ll bring the wine and a surprise.”

“I have a surprise for you now.” He reached under the lab table for a bag inscribed with Aéroport Charles-de-Gaulle. A little something French for cherie.

Glenda took out a bottle of perfume and a scarf, both bearing the name Balenciaga. The scarf was dark blue, accented by lilies of the valley. She never had a bottle of perfume. The type and generosity of the gifts left her momentarily speechless but she rapidly recovered to give Dominic thank you kisses. I’ll wear them both to dinner.

“In we call the little white flowers, muguet. Do you know what they mean?”

Glenda shook her head.

“It means my happiness has returned because I am with you.”

Glenda took a towel off the lab table to wipe away her tears.

Glenda couldn’t decide if she should wear her Sunday dress or her weekly dress or go for dinner in her usual jeans and plaid shirt. Whatever she wore she hoped

it wouldn’t be on her back for long. A ten second search through her wardrobe produced a black skirt and a white shirt ed on from Mother. Both were still wrapped in tissue. She also ed the perfect time had come for the black lingerie bought on the shopping trip with Sara last year. The clothes felt unfamiliar but she thought able. After the third attempt she decided the new pink lipstick would be good enough. She waited until she stood outside the residence before she put on the blue scarf and a spray of perfume. She knew with certainty that Gerda would never approve of either.

Dominic lived within walking distance and after a short detour to a liquor store she would be ready for the evening. She knew her favorite wine probably wouldn’t work, nor an Italian for someone from . She decided to show her ignorance and asked for the name of a good French wine. The clerk asked if she knew the dinner menu. She didn’t but she knew he came from Lyon. The clerk suggested a Côtes du Rhone or if she wanted to go upscale he did have a nice Hermitage. The wine cost more than she expected but thought worth it for a once in a lifetime event.

Dominic lived in a small, one-bedroom, graduate student apartment. He answered the door on the first ring and swept Glenda into the apartment with a deep bow and wave of his hand. She giggled and handed him the brown paper bag. He pulled the wine out and after a knowledgeable scan gave an approving nod.

“I’ll open the wine so it can breathe before dinner.”

Glenda wondered what he meant but decided to let the comment and followed him into the sailboat size kitchen. The cork came out with a pop and he turned around to give Glenda the kiss she had been waiting for since the door opened. “Tonight you will get to encounter a little of la vie française.”

Glenda choose the couch over the only other option, a single easy chair. Dominic sat beside her and handed her a glass of pinkish liquid. “We call this a kir __ white wine with crème de cassis, blackcurrant liqueur.”

Glenda took a tiny sip, “Mmm, this is worth a kiss.”

“Now, let me tell you what is tonight’s French menu. I grew up in Lyon, the capital of French cuisine and I have been well taught by my mother and grandmother. First a consommé that I made myself from beef bones. Then a carré d’agneau, what you would call a rack of lamb along with a ratatouille, which is sort of like a vegetable stew. The wine you brought will be an excellent match. We’ll finish with a simple green salad to cleanse the palate and finally my own crème brulé.”

Glenda took in every word and understood very little, other than she was about to have a dinner like she never had before. She did wonder about the lamb. Mother had never cooked lamb and if it ever came up in family conversation Father made it crystal clear it better stay that way. He would never eat mutton. Glenda also noticed the strong smell of garlic in the room, something else Mother never used in her cooking.

Glenda never had a broth like the consommé. Father insisted all soups must contain meat, vegetables and in keeping with his Scottish heritage, lots of barley, almost like a stew. He would have thought the thin, but tasty broth would be better suited to someone suffering a cold and he would no doubt have drunk directly from the bowl, dispensing entirely with any need of a spoon.

She complimented Dominic on the scrumptious lamb. He served it seared on the outside but tender pink in the middle. Glenda had never eaten meat that wasn’t gray right through. Glenda approached the ratatouille with caution because of the

texture and strong aroma of garlic. She had noticed that at times Dominic came to the lab with a slight garlic air about him. But she soon gave in to the strong flavour and gratefully accepted a second helping.

Dominic apologized for the bread. He couldn’t understand why Canadians are unable to make palatable bread. It is an affront to use a French name for a bakery when you can’t live up to the appropriate standard.

Glenda noticed a lack of butter on the table. It had no effect on Dominic who broke his bread into small pieces and popped them in his mouth without butter. She thought maybe he had forgot to buy any and instead of embarrassing him she followed his example.

Glenda never saw salad on the table at home. Rabbit food, Father proclaimed. Dominic said it would cleanse the palate. More new culinary for Glenda. She watched while Dominic mixed olive oil, balsamic vinegar, mustard and garlic to pour over the bowl of greens. She noticed that the acidic tartness of the dressing gave her mouth a refreshed feeling.

Glenda and Dominic only spoke about work in the lab. They now tried to learn a little more about each other. Dominic wanted to know about life on the farm and the kind of animals she grew up with. He also had an endless stream of questions about her parents. Glenda steered the questions back to topics about Lyon and growing up in a foreign city, at least to her. To her relief Dominic loved to talk about his heritage, the great food and beauty of the countryside.

When the last leaf of salad was gone from the bowl and the last drop of wine poured from the bottle Dominic cleared the table and said, “Watch, I’ll show you how to finish the crème brulé. He took two white ramekins from the fridge, sprinkled sugar on top and took out a butane torch. Glenda jumped back in

surprise when he fired up the torch and pointed it at the top of the ramekins turning the sugar into a brittle golden crust.

Dominic motioned for Glenda to sit on the couch and handed her one of the ramekins. She poked gingerly at the crust and then more firmly as she watched Dominic.

“What do you think,” he asked? “I always add a little lemon for zest.”

Glenda ate the rich custard slowly so it lasted as long as possible, saving the crust for last. “Delicious, too bad there isn’t more,” and wiped the bowl clean with a finger.

“Here,” Dominic said and held out his spoon with the remains of his own dessert.

“Let me help with the dishes,” Glenda offered.

“Not now, they’ll be there later.”

He helped Glenda to her feet and kissed her deeply. She released the shirt from her black skirt and undid the buttons. Dominic slipped off her bra and ran his hands over her firm nipples. Glenda’s legs almost betrayed her but Dominic held her erect. He pushed open the bedroom door and taking Glenda’s hand led her inside to the bed with the sheets already turned back. Glenda handed Dominic the box of technicolour condoms given to her by Sammy Caw. Dominic had

never seen the like and laughed with gusto. He hadn’t used such things since a teenager but realized under the circumstances it was the right thing to do. He would soon have to arrange a chemical substitute but for now they would be a fun experiment.

Glenda woke in the middle of the night and eagerly aroused Dominic and again in the morning before getting up. Glenda had never rippled so from her toes to her hair, nor heard her heart thump so loud. She quietly thanked the Deity for the skill of the man who first introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh. She frequently found disappointment in many of her future encounters until she realized that if she wanted to enjoy the outcome it would be her responsibility to take charge.

Glenda dressed quickly in the morning and chewed on a slice of toast on her rush back to the residence. She had her story prepared for Gerda on how she had fallen asleep at the lab. She would need other stories in the future since she couldn’t be falling asleep in the lab on a regular basis. Maybe Sara would help. If she only had her own place.

Gerda met Glenda at the door. “Where have you been young lady? And why the flushed cheeks, are you coming down with a flu?”

Glenda smiled inwardly, apologized and spewed out her story of sleeping in the lab. A skeptical Gerda decided to accept the story rather than carry on an inquisition but made a mental note to keep an eye on the all too independent Glenda.

Glenda and Dominic tried to maintain a professional work relationship in the lab but to even the casual observer the ether of the place took on a new aura. They would brush up against each other as they ed. Their hands might linger a

fraction of a second on the other’s when they exchanged something.

Higgins made the only comment, “Glad to see you working so closely with each other.” Glenda blushed and Dominic said, “Yes, you could say we are, très sympa.”

Dominic arranged with a medical student tennis partner for a birth control prescription. Glenda had some misgivings but knew from Dominic’s reaction that the condoms had no long-term future, even if they came in startling technicolour.

Finding intimate time together required a certain amount of planning. Dominic refused to use the lab as a trysting place, although Glenda would have been game anywhere, including riding up the elevator. Of course where Glenda lived was totally off limits. They developed a routine of sharing dinner and then each other __ they called it desert. Dominic played chef with Glenda a willing sous chef. Glenda had been able to convince Gerda that work at the lab made it necessary for her to miss dinner at the residence.

From time to time when a hormonal influence overwhelmed her Glenda convinced Dominic a nooner was in order. They enjoyed each other, freely and openly in a state of exploring sexual preferences and inventing new ones. Dominic played the expert teacher and Glenda the willing student. Although from time to time Glenda’s creativity surprised him. They settled into a mutually agreed, comfortable ecstasy.

To expand their horizons Glenda finally invited Sara to lunch at their usual Italian trattoria. Sara flounced into the restaurant in her latest finery, cigarette in hand. “I thought you had abandoned me for some ravishing lover.”

“I have,” Glenda replied.

“You’re having me on,” Sara said.

“No, I have a French lover.”

“Hot damn, good for you. That’s right up there with my summer fling, Flavio. Give me some details.”

“I’m not quite ready for that yet. I will tell you he is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. But I need your help.”

“Of course. What?”

“We want to be able to spend a whole night together but Gerda makes it impossible.”

“So you want the loan of my bed?”

“No, he has a place of his own but I need an excuse for an overnight from Gerda. I think if she thought I was doing a sleep over at your place once in awhile she would go along with it.”

“I’ll stop by for tea and have a word with her.”

And so Glenda would be forever in debt to Sara. To celebrate Dominic crashed his bank for a night at the Bessborough, dinner and breakfast included. They even had an opportunity for adventure when they found themselves alone in the hotel pool.

Not a day ed that Glenda didn’t wake up with sex on her mind. Dominic favored the idea too but insisted her grades came first. He often asked as they lay in each other’s arms if Glenda had completed all her assignments for the day. At first it annoyed her as totally unromantic but she came to recognize the wisdom of Dominic’s insistence.

His experience around the lab also proved invaluable. He knew of the paper with Higgins and while he would like to be included also knew it would be better for Glenda to do it herself. He provided instruction on how their work would impact the research paper and how to structure and eventually write the paper, along with hints on a successful presentation.

Every Sunday night on their weekly chat Mother raised the dreaded prospect of Thanksgiving. Glenda immediately changed the subject. But she knew the day would come and her presence would be expected. She couldn’t take Dominic home and didn’t even want to.

Glenda searched her mind at great length to fabricate an excuse. She even contemplated some form of self-injury that would put her in hospital. Mother suggested they pick Glenda up after classes ended on Friday and drive her back Monday evening. Glenda really wanted to escape Sunday morning. Higgins’

finally came to her rescue, although he didn’t know it.

Higgins was usually oblivious to holidays. Unless he had a class to teach, and if he did his secretary had to tell him, every day meant research. He left Glenda specific written instructions for the lab work he wanted her to complete by Friday. When she saw the note she recognized it would take her until at least midnight Friday before the results would be in. Mother was most vexed when Glenda read the note to her but in true fashion bowed to the power of the authority of the Great Man. The result was Glenda took the Saturday morning bus to Grande. And although Higgins didn’t include the instructions in his note Glenda took advantage of the situation and claimed she had to be back to the lab no later than Monday morning for necessary follow-up work.

On the drive home from the bus stop at the highway Esso station Mother told Glenda that since she no longer had time for her family they would have to pack it all in over the next two days. Father’s low grunt of assent indicated a united front. Once Mother had laid down the of conduct for the days ahead the rest of the trip ed in silence. Glenda could see from the window that the crops had been harvested and most of the world had turned to autumn bronze. White would be the next colour to dominate the fields.

By the time they arrived home the tension in the truck subsided enough that Father carried Glenda’s bag into the house and Mother managed to say, “Sit down dear, I’ll put the kettle on.”

Glenda leaned over and kissed her mother on the cheek and said, “I’m thankful to be home.”

Mother melted, threw her arms around Glenda and with tears in her eyes said, “, this is always your home.”

Mother took tea and ginger cookies into the living room and set them before the fireplace, even if it held no fire. As Glenda sipped her tea and copied her father dunking the cookies she noted a new pile of books on the sideboard among the familiar objects steadfastly resting where they had been placed many years ago. Glenda read the name of Randall’s religious alma mater on the spine of the books and the topmost of the pile was for the Education faculty. Glenda’s first instinct was to jump up and grab the top book but she held back and would wait for her parent’s initiative.

The remainder of the day was spent cooking for the Thanksgiving dinner to be held the next day at their church’s Hall of the Redeemer. Mother was known throughout the church for her apple pie so she had been put down for six. And the church’s annual pumpkin pie contest guaranteed at least one pie from all of the women. The sole criteria was the pie had to be made from scratch, using pumpkins grown in your own garden. Following tradition Glenda had two primary tasks, peeling the apples and cleaning the pulp out of the pumpkins. Mother looked after the pastry and seasoning as well as pie construction.

Father excused himself to work in the barn. He pointed out that thanks to Randall pitching in the harvest had been a great success. “Work well together me and that boy. He takes direction real good.”

Mother prepared Glenda’s favorite chicken potpie and dumplings for dinner. Dessert was a miniature apple pie she called a trier. “I couldn’t take a pie out in public without trying it first.” Glenda and Father demonstrated their approval by clean plates and pie dish without a crumb left.

While Glenda and Mother performed their usual roles to clean the dishes and the kitchen Father sat in contemplation before the fire he had prepared, the smoke from his pipe curling toward the ceiling, his bible resting on his lap. When

Mother was settled beside Father with her knitting and Glenda looking up to him he asked, “Either of you care to be first to read the word of the Lord?” Both declined saying neither could do as well as him, which was the usual response.

Father read ages thanking the Lord for the harvest and having the family together at Thanksgiving, even if for only too brief a time. He then turned to Glenda and said, “I think it is my duty to continually remind you of the important parts of scripture that guide our lives. I always fear the temptations that I know bombard you on a daily basis as you make your way through those university hallways of sin and depravity. Today’s age is from First Corinthians, Chapter 11, third verse: ‘But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God.’ I commend you to burn it into your memory.”

Glenda and Mother nodded amen. And Glenda swore a silent oath to escape.

The next day church was a dawn to dusk event. A morning devoted to prayer, readings from the Bible (mostly Old Testament), foot stomping hymns of praise and public confessionals of exaltation, pleas to forgive transgressions and in keeping with the season, thanksgiving. The morning ended with the obligatory sermon from the pastor that went on until he collapsed exhausted and a speck of foam gathered at the corners of his mouth. A shot of hospital brandy revived him enough to lead the congregation into a lunch of tea, sandwiches and dainty cakes and tarts.

The afternoon began with a full immersion baptism ceremony, infants first and then any adults in need of purification and consecration. To confirm the fellowship of the congregation and raise their spirits the pastor, accompanied by his wife on the organ, led a group sing-along that culminated when he threw back his head, raised his arms and proclaimed, “Stand ye sinners, stand.” His wife hit the first chord of ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ and the congregation sang and marched into the dining hall for the Thanksgiving dinner.

Mother and many of the other women had slipped out early to have dinner set on the table as the marchers trooped in. Glenda saw empty chairs at one end of a long table that offered the possibility of separation from the rest of the multitude. Instead Father steered her to a spot in the middle of the table and said, “These are our seats.”

Glenda sat where Father pointed and as she adjusted her skirt felt a body descend into the chair to her left. She turned to face Randall in an open neck white shirt and black pants, still displaying a deeply bronzed face, topped off by a shiny white forehead. Very much like the rest of the men in the room. They exchanged hellos and immediately lapsed into silence. Searching for some way to break the silence Glenda asked about the harvest. Randall exhausted the topic in a couple of minutes and taking the cue that his turn had come he asked Glenda about university. She was able to keep her response to safe generalities until the pie course was placed before them.

Father had kept his distance so the young folk could get acquainted, in his words. He knew the day had almost come to an end and he wanted to be sure his views were established and well known. “Glad to see you two getting on so well. Glenda will be finishing up this year in Saskatoon but we think it might be time for her to take advantage of a more faith based program like one at your old school. It might help fasten the bond between you two.”

Glenda grabbed the chair to steady herself and said nothing while she raged inside. Randall fell in beside her as they left the hall and said, “I have something to tell you.”

Glenda had no idea what he might say but feared the worst.

Randall pulled her aside and said, “I know what your father is up to. He may mean well but I have the same idea about it as you do. But no need to worry. I have a girl friend at my old school. I have not told my parents about her. I plan to go back to school after Christmas to take a special course on missionary work. We plan to marry and take up a mission together after I finish the program. Like you, I have no wish to be stuck here on the farm for the rest of my life. I want to do more and see the world. We just have different plans to go about it. Please don’t tell your father. Let him find out in a normal way and I’m sure he’ll on some version of it to you.”

Glenda couldn’t believe her good fortune. She threw her arms around a startled Randall and murmured in his ear, “My dear Randall, thank you.”

Father saw the hug from a safe distance and smiled at how his plan was working to perfection.

Glenda argued for the bus to return to university but as always she made the journey in the truck, crammed between her parents. Father’s good mood made for an unusually pleasant trip. He even forgot himself enough that he whistled ‘Bonnie Dundee’ part of the way. Mother and Glenda decided to tolerate the whistle and say nothing for fear of raising some unexpected issue that would break the mood. As the truck turned along the street past the university toward the resident Glenda saw Dominic walking toward the lab. She wanted to roll down the window and shout, “Darling I’m back.” Instead she bit her fist to remain silent.

At the residence Gerda offered them tea. Thankfully her parents said they needed to hurry home for animal feeding and milking. Glenda hugged her parents goodbye and raced upstairs dragging her bag. She threw it on the bed and sprinted out the door to the lab.

She surprised Dominic in the lab, crushed his lips under hers and simultaneously shoved her hand down his pants. That proved argument enough for a return to his apartment for tea and entertainment.

October rolled into November, which ed in a flash. Remembrance Day fell in the middle of the week so Glenda easily argued there was no point returning home for one day. Between Dominic, her lab work and classes Glenda had little time left except to eat and sleep. They did manage one more weekend break under the guise of Glenda enjoying a sleep over with Sara. Glenda convinced herself it was only a half lie. She did enjoy a sleep over, just not with Sara. The bonus to the entire time is the paper with Higgins had started to take shape and they both began making plans for the break in Honolulu. Glenda also had started a campaign to convince Dominic that they should somehow arrange for him to come too. He argued poverty and Glenda said if that was the case she was prepared for a trip to the bank for a loan.

Glenda’s classes ended on a Wednesday and even with final exams to come she felt confident about her grades. She worked on her conference paper for the rest of the week and looked forward to the end of class bash. A visit to Higgins was in order to get his comments on her latest draft.

Glenda knocked on Higgins open door to announce herself. Higgins had his feet on the desk scribbling on a paper with a red pencil while he hummed, ‘I’ve Got A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts’. Glenda recognized her paper.

“Very good young lady, I think we’re almost there. I made a couple of suggestions and noted a few typos. It shouldn’t take long for you to make the revisions. One more run in the lab and we will have all the data we need to overwhelm the masses.”

“Thanks to you sir. I really look forward to the conference and have already made plans to take surfing lessons at Waikiki. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Well, something has come to mind. A favour would be a big help. Professor Saul Williams of the University of Chicago is coming in today to discuss a t project and I promised to pick him up at the airport. I need a little more time to prepare and it would help greatly if you could substitute. What is of more importance is the likelihood that he will be a discussant of our conference paper so it wouldn’t hurt if you two met.”

“A pleasure. I’ve read some of his papers and I’ll enjoy meeting him in person.”

A sweating and anxious Glenda arrived at the airport seconds before Professor Williams’s flight. Being obsessed about punctuality she had left in lots of time for the trip to the airport but an accident had held up traffic.

She ran into the airport but stopped in mid-flight at the sight of Dominic leaning against a pillar, his back to her. She started toward him until he threw up his arms and ran to meet a small boy racing toward him. The boy yelled in delight and leaped into Dominic’s outstretched arms. Glenda caught an exchange of phrases in French but the only word she could make out was, Papa. A smartly dressed, slim blonde woman followed the boy up to Dominic who put the boy down and transferred his amorous attentions to the woman.

Glenda didn’t know whether to run and hide or give Dominic her best right hook. But she couldn’t let it lie and had to confront him. As she started toward the happy family group Professor Williams come through the door to the waiting room looking anxiously for a familiar face. She still had to do something and on her way to meet Professor Williams made a slight detour past Dominic. He did not see her behind him but felt her hip as she checked him on the way by and

offered a brief, “Sorry about that __ asshole.”

Glenda turned to meet Professor Williams, leaving Dominic at a complete loss for words, in French or English. He took refuge in grasping the hands of his newly arrived guests and hurrying out the door.

Glenda turned her attention to Professor Williams whose look of consternation turned to relief when Glenda introduced herself and said she would be taking him to a reserved room in the Bessborough. On the trip to the hotel Glenda kept the conversation to a question and answer session about Williams’s latest research. Given the opportunity to speak on his favorite subject he launched into long and overly detailed replies that filled the conversation space on the trip to the hotel, although Glenda barely heard a word.

Glenda held herself together until she made it to her room, locked the door and crawled under the sheets. In the dark lonely silence her tears came in a flood and her body convulsed in the pain of sorrow. She didn’t even hear her phone ring.

Glenda woke at the usual time the next morning after a night of memory tapes rolling in a constant replay that she couldn’t turn off. She relived in technicolour every moment of her life with Dominic. She had thought of him as a soul mate. A partner forever. The loss was shattering, the deception far worse. Her first reaction was to shrink even further down in the bed and hold the covers over her head. Maybe if she stayed that way long enough she might asphyxiate herself. And she might have if her bladder had not intervened.

Glenda almost made it back to her room before Gerda intercepted her. “Merciful heavens, you look like death warmed over. Are you ill or something worse?”

“I’ll be fine, sort of a combination of a sinus infection and tummy gone wrong. It kept me up all night.”

“Something like this shouldn’t be neglected. You need to deal with it right away. Promise. If not I’ll take action myself. Be sure you’re home tonight because I’ll be checking on you.”

“You’re right. I’ll take care of it right away.”

Glenda showered in the coldest water she could stand to put her on the right edge for battle. That is how she saw the coming confrontation. Injury is what she had in mind. She only hoped to find Dominic in the lab. If not she would kick down the door of his apartment, woman and child or not.

She saw a light on in the lab and slowed her approach. She peered through the window in the door and caught her breath seeing Dominic cleaning out his desk. He didn’t hear her until she slammed the lab door. He only had time to blurt out, “Glenda!”

She attacked with, “You bastard,” and hurled the first beaker that came to hand, catching him in the forehead hard enough to draw blood.

Dominic dived under the desk yelping, “Restez tranquille. Laizzez-moi expliquer.”

“Speak English you Froggie prick and quickly. You only have a few minutes.”

All the time Glenda brandished a scalpel she had found among the lab instruments, last used to disembowel a frog.

Dominic peered cautiously over the desk holding a cloth to his forehead. “I wanted to let you down gently but could never find the right time or place. You always seemed so intent on other things. I tried to phone you yesterday but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh, yeah, when did you plan to so gently let the air out of my balloon?”

“Yesterday afternoon. I never expected to see you at the airport. My wife got a cheaper flight and came a day early. And now your hostility prevents any rational discussion.”

“Damn right it does. All I want to do is treat you like the last frog this instrument encountered.”

“What gives you the right to threaten me? I never made you promises of anything more than a good time. Isn’t that what you had?”

“Oh, now I’m a momentary source of amusement and pleasure. All your sweet talk was nothing but a lie and a come on.”

“Grow up and be a woman. Learn to enjoy the small pleasures of life. You’re too young to be serious. I gave you the best education you will ever have. I should send you a bill.”

“You are a small minded prick. And I may add that your mind is not the only thing that’s small about you. Fuck it, you’re just not worth the time.”

Dominic ducked just in time for the scalpel to whiz past his left ear and stick in the wall behind him.

“You better be gone by tomorrow because I may change my mind and bring a bigger blade.”

Glenda ran out of the lab and across campus. The tears streaming down her cheeks blinded her to see Sara coming toward her.

“Whoa, what’s with you,” Sara shouted?

“Sorry, I didn’t see you,” Glenda said, wiping her eyes. “I’m on my way to jump off the nearest bridge. I surprised Dominic at the airport with his wife and son.”

“A man! You’re behaving like this over a man? My shift at the hospital starts in ten minutes but I’m free tonight. Come on over, I’ll have a bottle of wine and something to relax you.”

Glenda arrived promptly at seven to find Sara in total relaxation in sweat pants and tee shirt that said, Everest on the right breast and Robson on the left. A bit of an exaggeration Glenda thought but no harm in thinking big.

Sara poured a generous serving of Chianti in mugs bearing the university crest and rolled a t while Glenda unloaded her life with Dominic. When she paused for breath Sara ed her the t for a toke and refilled their mugs.

Glenda sniffled a bit during her recounting but remained dry eyed for the most part. When she had told all there was to tell and the wine and t were done she closed her eyes and stretched out on Sara’s bed, drained of all emotion.

When she opened her eyes and sat up Sara stood over her and asked, “So what are you missing, the sex or the feeling of what you called love?”

“I don’t think I know what love is anymore.”

“Well let me introduce you to sex the other way,” Sara told her as she removed her tee shirt to reveal Everest and Robson. She slipped out of her sweat pants to flash a recent Brazilian waxing. When Sara had Glenda stripped naked she laid her gently on the bed and with experienced lips and tongue matched every bit of pleasure and excitement Glenda had ever felt with Dominic.

When they lay curled up together under the bed covers Glenda asked, “I had no idea you were bent that way.”

“Not entirely,” Sara replied. It depends on who is available. I see no reason for missing life’s pleasures because my partner is a woman. I have a date with a gorgeous man tomorrow and expect similar but different delights with him.”

Glenda avoided the lab the next day and did the revisions to the conference paper to show Higgins. She found him in his office with his red pen crossing out dates on a wall calendar and circling new ones.

“Find a comfortable chair, this is a good news, bad news day. First the bad news. The drug company that promised to sponsor the conference in Honolulu reported lower than expected profits and has withdrawn their sponsorship. Sorry, but no winter trip to Hawaii. The good news is I ed my friend, Professor Charles Holmes and we can his session at another conference, December 27 to 29.”

Glenda’s face dropped to her knees. She had thought of Hawaii as further healing from the Dominic fiasco. “Where are we going now,” she asked?

“Detroit,” Higgins replied.

“Detroit in December is good news?”

“Come on, I know a hotel with a big pool and water slide. With a little imagination and a couple of mai tais you’ll almost think you are on the beach at Waikiki. Besides, you should meet Holmes. He and I shared a lab as post-docs at the University of Edinburgh. He could become a Nobel laureate one day.”

Sixteenth

G lenda stepped off the bus on December 23 as the watery light slipped into darkness. Her first choice had been Christmas Eve but her parents reminded her of the family tradition to put up the tree on the 24 th . Her family held to the old tradition of live candles on the tree. The bright flames flickering on the green branches held her spellbound as a child. Now the prospect of the tree turning into a raging torch terrified her. She at least convinced them to let her travel home on the bus, which meant she would not arrive until supper time. Mother and Father waited in the warmth of the running truck. On the way home Mother said she had stuck to her traditional welcome for Glenda and supper would be chicken potpie with dumplings followed by her apple co bbler.

After supper Father built a fire in the living room fireplace and he settled back in quiet contentment puffing on his pipe while Glenda and Mother took turns reading the Christmas story from the family bible. Glenda always got to read about the Three Wise Men. Father took the last turn and as always ended the evening with a firm snap closing the bible. Glenda kissed both parents on the cheek and said good night. Before she could leave Mother wanted to confirm the holiday events. When she got to December 27 Glenda reminded her she left that day to catch the flight for the conference in Detroit. A pall of gloom cloaked the room and a dark look covered Father’s face. Glenda had originally hoped to leave on Boxing Day but surrendered to Mother’s forceful pleading.

Glenda woke to look out on a snowy field the sun had transformed into a blanket of sparkling diamonds. Any doubt about a white Christmas had vanished but this was Saskatchewan in December. One never expected less. The temperature had also settled well below freezing and no matter whether you took your measurements in Fahrenheit as Father did, or in Celsius like Glenda the conclusion came out the same. It would be a cold Christmas.

The morning was spent making final preparations for the afternoon Christmas social. Mother had long since finished the baking for their own Christmas dinner but she always insisted on fresh baking for the social. Unlike many other churches which held an evening or midnight service their’s held an afternoon social that filled the church hall and the church coffers. The pastor always had a sharp eye for the dollar. The attraction of the event may have been the program consisted mainly of Christmas carols, a minimum of well known readings from the bible and the briefest of blessings from the pastor. Mother’s contribution to the food table never varied, shortbread, mince and butter tarts. Glenda stuck to the same welsh cakes she had made since her days in Sunday School.

The social lasted exactly two hours but Mother insisted on arriving a half hour early to ensure her contributions occupied a prominent place on the offerings table and also to occupy a front row seat. They had been late one year and forced to take seats at the back of the hall. It took Mother until Easter to get over it and stop talking about, ‘the year of the dreadful Christmas social.’

The singing always started with, ‘O Come All Ye Faithful,’ and closed with, ‘Joy to the World.’ On one occasion Glenda had taken Eric, her high school lab partner to the social and she heard him humming the Happy Birthday tune. She asked him what he had been up to and he replied that since this is Jesus Christ’s birthday someone should recognize it and sing Happy Birthday to him. Ever since Glenda acknowledged Eric’s insight and sang the song silently to herself.

After the cakes, shortbread and tarts had been washed down with strong black tea people made their way into the dim light of the winter sun. As Glenda arrived at the door she saw Randall in the distance in a black suit and full beard looking like a latter day prophet. He had his arms around a fair haired, pale young woman in what must have been the last month of pregnancy. Randall waved to her and she waved back. There but for the grace of God go I Glenda thought, if Father had his way.

Father always had a youthful resurgence on Christmas morning. He was first up with the coffee made and a fire on in the fireplace pacing impatiently for Glenda and Mother to come down. He would have preferred opening presents before all else but Mother held out for not only breakfast first but also the dishes washed and put away.

As a family of three the present opening ceremony was brief since their tradition was to exchange one gift each. Glenda had wanted to buy something nice and different for each of her parents. The Bay had a sweater she liked for Father but knew he would consider it overly extravagant and ask to have it returned. She had wanted to buy pearl earrings from Birks for Mother and even though she might have liked them Father would have the same reaction. Instead Father got a pair of argyle socks and a Farmer’s almanac. He said that violated the rule of one gift each but he thanked Glenda and kept both. Mother received a new leather bound prayer book to replace the one she now had that was falling apart and missing pages.

Glenda carefully unwrapped her own present the way Mother had taught her as a little girl so paper could be saved and used again. Mother thought it a waste to only use the paper once. When she parted the tissue inside the wrapping she found a mauve twin set. In recent years Glenda had often found her Christmas presents to be hit and miss but she actually liked this one and said so with enthusiasm. Mother smiled at her reaction and explained she thought it might add to her wardrobe for the conference in Detroit. Glenda didn’t say so but she took it as a vote of approval for the conference.

After an obligatory return to church to once again hear the entire Christmas story from Immaculate Conception, being turned away at the inn, finding a place in the stable and ultimately the birth, all with the Three Wise Men in full attendance. Glenda used the solitude of the church to review for the umpteenth time how she would make her presentation in Detroit. She finished the presentation just as the pastor asked the congregation to stand for the benediction, releasing everyone to return home for Christmas dinner.

Glenda helped Mother prepare the usual Christmas dinner __ turkey, bread and sausage dressing, mashed potatoes, mashed turnips and brussel sprouts with Christmas pudding to end it all. Before bedtime there would be a selection of short bread and mince tarts to have with tea. Glenda enjoyed Christmas dinner even if it never varied but now yearned for a glass of wine. Maybe one day in another time and another place.

Glenda had wanted to go into Grande to see if she could find Sammy Caw and wish him a Merry Christmas. She got her wish on Boxing Day when Mother wanted to drive in for the sales. She always bought wrapping paper and cards for next year because she said the day after Christmas is when such items are the cheapest.

While Mother shopped Glenda went in search of Sammy. She found him in front of the hot air vent in the alley behind the pool hall rubbing his hands and hopping from one foot to the other. When he saw Glenda he gave her a wide gummy smile, spread his arms and lisped, “Merry Christmas princess.”

Glenda had a clear memory of the olfactory danger of getting too close to Sammy and held out a gloved hand and replied, “Merry Christmas to you too, you old reprobate.”

Sammy motioned for Glenda to move in a little closer. A cold breeze made her give in and stand beside Sammy at the hot air vent but she tried to stay downwind. Sammy pulled a package of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Glenda.

“When did you start smoking tailor-mades,” she asked and accepted the offering.

“A Christmas present to myself.”

Glenda made an obvious attempt to show Sammy she had finally learned how to inhale without ing out.

Sammy then pulled out a mickey of rye and said, “ me in a Christmas drink?”

Glenda was uncertain about putting her lips to a bottle that Sammy had quaffed from. But she noticed the seal still intact so she agreed. Sammy twisted off the top and ed the bottle to Glenda. She raised it up and said, “Here’s to you kid.” She declined any further drinks once Sammy had taken a long pull on the bottle.

After a brief chat Glenda said she had to meet her mother. She also would have to make a stop to pick up a package of sen sen.

“Before you go tell me a little something,” Sammy said. “Did you ever put my little coloured balloons to the use they were intended for?”

Glenda started to deny any knowledge of what he asked but caught herself, smiled shyly and replied, “A few times.” It brought back memories of pleasure and pain with Dominic.

“A real woman,” Sammy said and raised his mickey to her.

Glenda was first out of bed on December 28. She wanted to be ready in lots of time to catch the bus to Saskatoon. Her parents had finally relented to let her take the bus. Her good fortune had been dashed at church on Christmas Day. The pastor and his family had a trip planned to Saskatoon and offered Glenda a ride. She had no choice but to say yes.

Glenda scooped up the last of her oatmeal when Mother appeared in the kitchen. Mother offered up a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, or even pancakes. Glenda said oatmeal was enough. She didn’t add her desire to shed a few pounds. Father appeared at that moment and said he’d gladly accept such a generous offer. While Father mopped up the last of his breakfast Glenda sipped her coffee and every ten seconds glanced at the clock and tried to will the hands to move more rapidly. Mother went through a long checklist to see if Glenda had packed all she needed for the trip. Father got up and returned with his bible and read aloud a verse for Glenda to that might ward off any carnal desires as she ventured into a new unknown.

“Flee the evil desires of youth, and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of pure heart.” 2 Timothy 2:22

Just as Father snapped his bible shut the pastor pulled into the yard. The pastor was curious about the purpose of Glenda’s trip to Detroit. She tried to keep her answers simple and noncommittal. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she would be giving a paper on the mutation of a particular type of cancer and the theory was firmly based in a foundation of evolutionary assumptions.

Her concern proved well founded when the pastor’s word on the subject was, “I’d like to read a copy of your paper, even though I’m sure I wouldn’t understand a word. I gave up on biology in school when I found out a lot of the so-called science was based on the evolutionary ideas of Charles Darwin. Of

course you know that is only a lot of unproven hooey.”

Glenda bit her tongue and turned her attention to a jackrabbit hopping along the ditch.

When they reached Glenda’s residence the pastor took out her suitcase from the trunk and walked it to the front door. Glenda thanked him for the ride. As she picked up the suitcase the pastor said, “I’ll be thankful when you’ve finished your studies and return to teach in our school in Grande and in our own Sunday School.”

Sara borrowed a friend’s car to give Glenda a ride to the airport. She had to change in Toronto for the flight to Detroit. Sara gave her a hug, wished her well and pressed a couple of condoms into Glenda’s hand.

“What are these for Glenda,” asked?

“Who knows you may get lucky. Didn’t you know that is one of the perks of conferences.”

Glenda handed the gift back to Sara, “Not interested these days.”

Sara, shrugged, stuffed the condoms back in her purse and said, “Have fun anyway and I’ll meet you here. the New Year’s party is at my place.”

Glenda met Higgins at the conference in great anticipation of his tales about how he spent Christmas. She found him at the registration desk and said she’d like to go over their paper one more time before the next day’s presentation but after he told her about his Christmas in England.

Higgins and his wife had spent the holidays with an old friend he had shared a lab with during his time as a post-doc student. His friend now held a research chair in genetics at Oxford. He had the good fortune to marry a woman from landed gentry and when her brother ed away at an early age she inherited the family’s manor house and lands that dated to the days of Henry VIII. The inheritance included enough income to maintain the house and lands as they were intended without opening the doors to a curious public.

Higgins told her they spent a good deal of time enjoying a roaring Yule the fireplace that stretched almost to the top of the ceiling while drinking hot rum punch and watching the occasional snow flake float past the window. The Christmas tree was the tallest Higgins had ever seen outside a forest. It stretched to almost twenty feet and was covered in antique baubles and a blinding array of lights.

On Christmas Day they walked to the local village pub for a traditional pint of bitter and sang carols with the gathered masses. After an afternoon nap came a traditional Christmas dinner of goose, just like the Cratchitt family had in Dicken’s, A Christmas Carol, followed by a flaming plum pudding. Higgins finished by saying he had such a good time he invited himself again for next year. He also told Glenda that when she got to Oxford he would provide a letter of introduction to his friend.

When he finished Higgins suggested they find a quiet corner in the nearby bar to review the latest version of their paper. Higgins ordered a Manhattan, his favorite cocktail and suggested the same for Glenda. She had never indulged in a cocktail of any sort and when Higgins told her he liked his made with bourbon,

which he described as a type of whisky, her throat burned, recalling sharing Sammy Caw’s favorite tipple. When he added it included sweet vermouth she thought it might be alright but when he added it also included something called Angostura Bitters she wavered back to negative, but the final addition of a cherry swayed her back to yes. As Glenda bit into the cherry and dropped the stem into the empty glass she knew she had found a new pleasure.

Glenda removed her glass and spread out the paper pointing to the most recent changes underlined in red and showed Higgins the slides she had prepared. He gave her a ing grade and said she would bowl them over tomorrow. But the time had come to meet the great Holmes.

They found Holmes leaning against the bar, martini glass in hand, holding court with what Higgins described as the familiar flock of sycophants. At six feet four and a mere one hundred and seventy pounds he looked like his favorite bird would be a stork, especially if he stood on one leg. A receding hairline was offset by hair to the nape of his neck, almost too dark to be natural. He had pale blue eyes, settled between eyebrows that could have nested a small bird and bags below that if filled would have done a bloodhound proud. An aquiline nose almost covered a pencil thin moustache. He wore one of the standard academic uniforms of brown corduroy tros and a matching Harris Tweed jacket with a pipe protruding from the chest pocket.

The minute he spied Higgins and Glenda, following a few well mannered steps behind, he roared, “Higgins, you old bastard, you don’t look a day different than when you washed the beakers in my lab, lo those many years ago.”

“Nice to see you too, Sherlock.” Holmes real name was Charles but Higgins used the moniker of the famous detective too rankle the great man and maintain a sense of equity.

Holmes chuckled and replied, “Still not a clue on an appropriate riposte to get my goat. And is this the brilliant young lady who is the object of your laudatory comments?”

“Indeed, be honoured to meet Glenda Miller. Get her in your lab and you may win the Nobel Prize after all. Glenda, shake the hand of Charles Holmes.”

Glenda extended her hand and pumped Holmes arm like a pump handle. “A pleasure sir.”

Holmes rescued his hand and gave his arm a firm shaking to get the blood flowing. He drained his martini and while chewing on the olive said, “Come along young lady and me for dinner, we’ll get another drink inside.”

Holmes took his place at the end of the table with Glenda beside him and Higgins opposite. He quizzed her in detail about her background, studies, research interests and results and what she intended to do with her life. Before she said a word he thought what could an unsophisticated ingénue from rural Saskatchewan have to offer the world of science and more important my future success. By the time dessert arrived most of his skepticism had been washed away by Glenda’s straightforward and confident replies to Holmes’ grilling.

Glenda presented her paper the next day in the session between the coffee break and lunch. She wore the mauve twin set from Christmas and felt very smartly dressed. Higgins had insisted she be listed as senior author but agreed to sit beside her for moral . When called upon Glenda stood beside the lectern, a clicker in her hand to advance the slides and looked up at a packed room that overflowed into the corridors. The nerves may have lasted all of ten seconds before her meticulous preparation kicked in and she launched into a smooth and professional presentation. She had agreed to be interrupted for questions if

anyone wished to intervene but the group remained respectfully silent throughout, except for an occasional murmur of approval or soft note of interest. The following discussion, under Holmes leadership, was laudatory and ive. Higgins stood ready to intervene but Glenda took charge and answered even the most challenging question so the questioner sat down satisfied or empty of any further come back.

Holmes again invited Glenda to sit beside him at lunch. He now recognized a brilliant young woman who could be a source of new ideas. He must do all he could to corner this valuable asset. During lunch he told Glenda that he is in his final year at Columbia University. He had received an offer of a research chair at the University of British Columbia that promised him a new lab and a rock star salary. He said he would miss New York but looked forward to the natural beauty of his promised land and might even invest in a sailboat and a chalet at Whistler. He assured Glenda he could find her a spot in his lab and enough financial she could even afford to live in Vancouver. In the meantime he suggested they keep in touch and exchange working papers on a regular basis.

The conference ended that day and rather than stay for the dinner Glenda and Higgins took a flight from Detroit that got them into Toronto in time to catch the last flight to Saskatoon. On the plane she told Higgins of Holmes offer. Higgins suggested it would be worthwhile to look around but he doubted she would get a better offer in of money or research .

When classes started again Glenda finally screwed up her courage to transfer from Education to Science. Higgins had promised to go to bat for her if necessary but her straight A average made the move a mere formality. She had been afraid there might be a need of parental approval and she was ready to forge her father’s signature if necessary.

She stopped by Higgins office to show him the official papers of the transfer. In celebration Higgins took out the bottle of sherry he kept in a bottom desk

drawer. He didn’t think Glenda was ready for a sip from his bottle of single malt. Over the drink Higgins outlined the research program for the rest of the year and to put icing on the cake increased Glenda’s assistant’s stipend. Glenda never had so much money to call her own.

To further celebrate what Glenda called her promotion she picked up a bottle of Sara’s favourite Chianti. Sara contributed to the festivities with a donation from the best of her stash of BC Bud. When both girls were happily stoned Sara methodically removed her shirt and then Glenda’s, next came their jeans so they both stood in nothing but bra and panties. While sticking her tongue down Glenda’s throat Sara relieved her of her bra. Glenda responded in kind. Sara then explored Glenda’s body with her tongue from ear lobes, over her breasts and when she reached Glenda’s panties she pushed her gently back onto the bed where Glenda hoisted her legs in the air for Sara to remove the panties and continue on. Glenda soon felt the tingle turn into a rush, shaking the length of her body and at the climax screamed out, “Oh my God, my God, thank you Sara.” In response Sara removed her own panties and rolled onto her back pulling Glenda on top of her. Glenda returned the favour, following Sara’s example to the letter until Sara shrieked, “Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me. What a great fuck.” Glenda stayed the night and after a repeat performance in the morning happily went off to her first day of classes of the winter term.

Glenda and Sara periodically repeated their sexual adventures but Sara maintained her interest in the opposite sex and tried to get Glenda to do the same but her wounds from Dominic had not healed. Sara told her not to take it seriously. Think of it as another source of entertainment. Sport fucking is what Sara called it. Glenda held steadfast on her no men policy until her final year.

For the remainder of her second and third year Glenda settled into a comfortable routine. She took an Honours program in Biology and continued helping Higgins spend his research grants. She worked on his most high profile projects and in time he gave her full rein to follow her own interests. She maintained close with Holmes and exchanged working papers with him. And on occasion

they would chat on the phone about the most exciting results. Holmes knew he had discovered a valuable asset and future grad student of star quality. He often repeated his offer to have Glenda him in his sparkling new lab at UBC. She assured him that is exactly her plan upon graduation.

In her personal life Glenda had no close friends beside Sara who served as a bosom buddy, confidante and periodic sexual outlet. On the home front Glenda maintained a cautious equilibrium. Her mother began to recognize a growing maturity in Glenda and started to treat her as an adult. To Father, Glenda remained his little girl in need of care, protection and a tight rein to keep her on the straight and narrow way of the Lord. He eventually showed some leniency when Glenda brought home her results at the end of her third year, topping off the honours with a scholarship of $10,000 for tuition, books and research assistance. With some gentle nudging from Mother he finally agreed Glenda could move out of the residence into her own apartment. He did insist on no roommates. He feared Glenda might make the wrong choice and fall into loose company. He had met Sara once and most certainly did not want his darling daughter to share accommodation with someone he thought of as Satan incarnate in women’s clothing.

Glenda’s well-ordered world crashed in a tailspin when she went home a few days prior to the start of her final year. A neighbor had returned from the Okanagan and brought them a case of fresh peaches. Mother had allocated the job of peach peeling to Glenda for the making of peach jam when she saw Father racing up the driveway scattering a flock of chickens before him.

He stormed into the kitchen, his face redder than if he had been toiling in the fields under a boiling sun. He threw a copy of the Saskatoon Star-Phoenix on the table and opened it to a page that had a picture of Glenda and a caption, “U of S Science Star”. Glenda had no idea of the story. The university’s publicity department had ed the paper to show off some of the star Science students. It was part of the recently launched fund raising campaign. The article mentioned Glenda’s sterling record, included laudatory quotes from Higgins and

the likelihood of Glenda moving to UBC to study with a potential Nobel laureate.

In a voice he could barely control Father demanded to know the meaning of it all. He shouted that he had been deceived to think Glenda had enrolled in Education and would be returning to teach in Grande and eventually marry a local boy from their church and produce grandsons for him to teach. Father added that the editor of the local paper wanted to run a feature story on her accomplishments and future plans. Father warned him off in no uncertain . He glared at Glenda and in his strongest voice told her to abandon any thought of going to Vancouver. She would be an obedient daughter and submit to his bidding.

Mother tried to intervene and said, “She is twenty-one and a grown woman. She has a right to her own mind and actions.”

Father replied, “I don’t care what age she is, she’s my daughter and will do as I tell her.”

Glenda burst into tears and disappeared into her room. She returned alone to Saskatoon the next day unsure what to do but knowing she had to do something to prevent the realization of her worst nightmare, a lifetime in Grande.

Glenda tried to lose herself in her work but could not get it out of her mind that she only had a few short months to find an answer to her dilemma. She couldn’t just abandon her family. She had to find a reason that would her move to UBC, even if her parents didn’t approve. She put in many a sleepless night crying herself to sleep. Higgins noticed a change in Glenda but she said it was only stress from work piling up in class and her research.

She even did something she had not done for a long time, sought refuge in a return to God and prayer and reading the bible at bedtime. Her favorite book of the bible is Psalms and one night she read from Psalms, 21/1, “The Lord is my light and my salvation.” Reading it raised her spirits and she knew that God could not abandon her to a fate worse than death.

She had second thoughts the night her computer crashed while finishing the final draft of two papers. One for class and the second for her first solo publication in a leading science journal, both due the next day. Glenda had no problem using a computer but her talents did not include the technical details of what to do when something goes wrong.

In a state of panic she phoned the university’s Help desk and a soft voice answered, “Hi, my name’s Harold, how can I help you.” Harold spent almost a half hour trying to fix Glenda’s problem but to no avail. When Harold finally surrendered and confessed he could do nothing over the phone Glenda burst into tears. Unable to stand the wailing pouring into his ear Harold said he would soon finish his shift and offered to come by to see what he could accomplish in person.

Glenda opened the door to a tall, lanky young man with pale blue eyes, sandy hair and an English complexion that looked like it had never felt the sun. He looked like someone in need of a protector and it crossed her mind to throw her arms around him in a motherly hug. Instead she ed as the one in distress Harold had come to save her.

After introductions Harold took out a set of screwdrivers and proceeded to fiddle with the computer. Inside thirty minutes he proclaimed success in restoring the computer to life and resurrecting Glenda’s data and papers. Glenda finally did throw her arms around Harold in a crushing hug and thanked him. She said she

really needed the rest of the night to finish her work but if he returned the following night she promised to make him dinner and pour a good wine. Harold had spent a good part of his life in a dilemma of being attracted to girls but at the same time terrified. But Glenda seemed approachable so he said yes.

In the scientific realm Glenda often had flashes of brilliant insight but what became her plan for Harold developed rather slowly. Only while cooking dinner did the hint of an idea come to her. She thought that if she could only get married Father would behave traditionally and follow the desires of Glenda’s husband. The catch is Glenda had neither a husband, nor prospects. The only person she was close to in a biblical sense was Sara and she didn’t qualify as matrimonial material.

Glenda never thought of herself as grand cook but she had helped Mother enough to develop a familiarity with what would be within the bounds of her limited culinary talent. She decided on her favorite dinner of chicken potpie but she knew she could not manage dumplings and apple crumble. A grocery store apple pie would have to do. Harold didn’t strike her as the finicky type and any home cooking he indulged in was probably of the one pot variety. All she really had to do was prepare the filling for the pie, put a frozen pastry crust over the top and pop it in the oven for heating. She already had a bottle of able Chianti and a mickey of rye she used on chilly days to fortify her coffee.

The doorbell rang and she let in a freshly scrubbed Harold in blue jeans and a white shirt holding a small bouquet of red carnations and a case of six Labatt’s Blue. As he stepped into the room Glenda beamed from ear to ear, before her stood her savior and she knew in that instant, exactly what she must do.

While knocking off a couple of Harold’s beer Glenda learned he came from Saskatoon and like her was an only child who lived at home with his mother. She also learned he was studying computer science and would graduate this year at the same convocation as Glenda.

Harold showed his delight with the potpie by consuming a second helping but he had to it after one glass of wine that he had no experience as a wine drinker and switched back to beer. Glenda happily picked up the slack and took over finishing the bottle of wine. After dinner Harold flopped onto the couch in Glenda’s miniscule sitting room. He accepted Glenda’s offer of a rye enhanced coffee and with the alcohol warming his insides felt comfortable sitting next to a girl for the first time.

Glenda snuggled up to Harold and put her hand on his knee and thanked him again for rescuing her and added that she found him very attractive. Unsure how to respond Harold followed Glenda’s lead and said he thought she too was attractive. After rubbing Harold’s bony chest Glenda began to unbutton his shirt and run her fingers over the nipples of his breasts. As the other hand skimmed lightly over his crotch she could tell she was having the desired effect on Harold in just the right places. She finally suggested a change of location to the bedroom. His left foot stepped to the bedroom and his right foot to the exit. Glenda settled the matter with a tug and Harold lurched into the bedroom.

Glenda took charge by removing Harold’s shirt, pants and socks leaving him shivering in the centre of the room in his white boxer shorts. She next removed her own clothes down to her panties. In the interests of modesty for Harold she threw back the covers on the bed and pulled Harold in after her and then covering them up. The remaining articles of clothing soon landed on the floor.

She helped Harold discover her body by guiding his hand over all the parts she liked touched and how she liked to be touched. She ed well Dominic’s expert explorations and what she had learned from Sara. Harold started to pant so loud and fast she feared he might hyperventilate. She backed off for a moment until his breathing returned to normal. She took out one of the technicolour condoms she still had from Sammy Caw, kissed Harold’s very erect penis and slipped it on. She then helped him settle inside her and she began to thrust gently upward. After a few thrusts she could tell it was all over for Harold. She knew

Harold would take some work but she was confident in her teaching skill.

Harold had never experienced such a feeling and he knew he wanted to experience it again. However, it all ended much sooner than he expected. He hoped he could make it last longer next time.

Glenda pulled herself in close to Harold and said, “Now I have a second thing to thank you for. Did you like it too?”

Harold nodded vigorously and replied, “Can we do it again some time?”

“Tomorrow,” Glenda said.

Glenda and Harold set up a schedule dining together followed by improving their sexual experience of each other. For his part Harold picked up a number of books on the topic that he kept under his bed at home. They might have moved in together but Harold could never broach the subject with his mother because he knew she would say no. Glenda had the impression Harold’s mother expected him to live with her for the rest of her days.

With a month left to go Glenda gathered the courage for the final step in her plan. While they lay in bed she raised up on one elbow to look Harold in the eye and announced, “I think we should get married?”

Startled, Harold sat bolt upright, “What?”

“We should get married. You’d be better off letting me run your life than your mother.”

Harold recognized a certain wisdom in what she said and had no strong reder. He didn’t want to return to his old life of no sex and his mother as the only female in his life. “What will I tell my mother and what will you tell your parents?”

“We’ll tell them after the fact. We’re both over twenty-one. We don’t need their permission.”

Glenda found a liberal faculty member in St. Andrew’s college to do the deed and with only Higgins in attendance Glenda and Harold said I do, although Glenda retained the name of Miller.

Glenda and Harold continued to live apart until after graduation. On the day of convocation while still in their academic robes Glenda and Harold told their respective parents they had someone they needed to meet.

“Father, Mother, I would like you to meet my husband, Harold Klemchuk. And this is his mother, Agnes.”

Harold then turned to his mother, “Mom, please meet my wife, Glenda Miller. And these are her parents, Gordon and Alicia but everyone calls her Alice.”

Both parents were speechless. Agnes broke the silence when she burst into tears

and threw herself into her son’s arm.

Father growled, “I’ll have it annulled”.

Mother reminded him that, “What God hath ed, let not man put asunder.”

Glenda and Harold set up housekeeping the next day and began plans to move to Vancouver.

Seventeenth

G lenda darted around the apartment, hair dripping, stuffing books and papers into her backpack, nibbling non-stop on a crust of whole grain toast. Harold calmly spooned up his granola over the Georgia Straight. Breakfast came from their health food discoveries on West 4. They had signed a pact to live healthier through exercise and proper nutrition. When Glenda had crunched the last morsel of toast and crammed her last book into the backpack she announced, “Let’ s go.”

Harold dropped the Georgia Straight on the floor and the dishes in the sink and replied, “Ready, set, go”

Campus parking rates made it an easy decision to leave their ancient BMW at home. Bikes became the primary mode of family travel. Harold had always owned a mountain bike and he found something acceptable for Glenda at a reasonable price in a Canadian tire flyer. The ride up the hill for Harold’s first day of work and academic assignments for Glenda dawned with a bright sun glinting off Grouse Mountain across Burrard Inlet. Harold preferred a leisurely ride to, ‘enjoy the roses’, as he said. Glenda didn’t have time for such luxury, as she had her first work meeting with the great Holmes. She stood up on the bike to accelerate, leaving Harold to ‘enjoy the roses’ at his own pace.

Glenda had scouted out the location of the Biology building and a place to lock up her bike. She felt certain Harold could make his way to computer services where he would man the phones at the Help desk. She didn’t want to be late for her meeting with Holmes. He had suggested, actually more like a royal command, that she be at the lab by 8:30. The clock at the building entrance clicked to 8:15 confirming she had arrived in ample time. She had yet to learn that Holmes considered it his divine right to show up whenever he liked, never

mind the appointed hour. She easily found the lab but since she had yet to be granted the honour of a key to the hallowed sanctum she slumped to the floor and propped herself up against the wall to revise a paper she pulled out of her backpack.

Holmes finally rolled in at 8:50, or at least that is what the wall clock read. He had shed his east coast polka dot bow tie, tweed jacket and corduroy pants and heavy brown brogues for what he defined as west coast modern. He swung a blackthorn walking stick he had bought in Dublin. He wore a waxed Barbour coat bought on the same trip that he thought most functional for the wet of the west coast and a small back pack that he now used to tote what he once carried in a fine Italian leather briefcase. The brown brogues had been replaced by hiking boots from Mountain Equipment Co-op that he had learned to refer to by the acronym MEC, just like a local.

The rest of the lab slaves trundled in close on the heels of Holmes’ arrival. A collection of graduate students, post-doctoral students and techies. Holmes introduced them in such rapid fire succession that Glenda immediately forgot the names of all but the last one __ a tiny wren called Hilary. She learned the Alpha male in the group was a post doc student with an English accent by the name of Bob, although he was trying, so far with little luck, to get people to call him Robert. Holmes called him Bobby. He had followed Holmes from Columbia in a blind faith that the coattails of the great man would open the gates of some prestigious university in the US, preferably the northeast. He cared little for anyone in his all out effort for his heart’s desire.

Holmes took great pride in showing off his lab. He had made it a condition to have the latest of the latest with a slush fund to introduce upgrades upon release. Equipment manufacturers consider it a coup to be able to tell the less anointed that the great Charles Holmes adopted the latest version of whatever gizmo they happened to be flogging. The lab also had plush amenities such as a lounge with a fridge and cooking facilities, dining table and chairs, two easy chairs and a sofa that could be unfolded into a bed for the late night workers so wrapped up in

their research they needed to camp over night. It also had a private bathroom, including a shower so the lab slaves didn’t have to take the time and trouble to use the public facilities. Originally the lounge had a television but Holmes removed it when he saw it being used to watch a daytime soap opera.

He had an office in the lab in addition to his main office next to that of the Dean of Science, where he spent most of his time on the days he appeared on campus. The lab office served an istrative purpose for files and records of past research, grant applications and contracts. A true packrat, Holmes never threw away a thing. He even had copies of his undergraduate papers filed away.

Holmes drew himself up before a blackboard and quickly summarized who was doing what and a sketch of the lab hierarchy. All authority and communication flowed from Holmes. He then outlined the projects that Glenda would work on, mainly one-on-one with him with a couple of minor exceptions. Glenda quickly grasped that by the time she kept up with the three doctoral seminars she had signed up for and all the work Holmes had just dumped on her there would be precious little time left to pursue her ideas or a couple she still hoped to continue with Higgins. The transition from Higgins’s lab to Holmes’ felt like a jump from Club Med to Stalag 17.

Holmes saw Glenda as his personal star and he intended to reserve her intellectual talents for himself. He established a scheduled time to review her recent work and see what new ideas they could generate. To Holmes that really meant what he could cherry pick from her fertile brain. He would never it it but he hadn’t had an original idea since he published his paradigm smashing paper several years ago. Anything since had been merely a linear extension.

After Holmes’ departure Glenda made an attempt to get to know the other denizens of the lab. Most replied politely to her advances but clearly indicated they were here to work and not socialize. Hilary came forth as the one exception. She smiled and suggested they make a pot of coffee and get to know each other a

little better. Glenda learned Hilary had the most seniority in the lab and if she didn’t get a breakthrough soon to complete her doctorate Holmes would terminate her with a master’s degree and send her on her way.

Glenda spent the rest of the morning setting up her table in the lab. Hilary helped with a few details. She was almost finished and placing some extra supplies in a desk drawer when Bob appeared at her side. He grabbed some graph paper off her table and snarled, “These are mine. I ordered them special. Never touch them again.”

Shocked, Glenda stepped back and replied, “Sorry Bob.”

“It’s Robert, that.”

“O.K. Robert,” and then under her breath whispered, Bobby.

Glenda noticed that the lab clock had advanced to almost noon and a rumble in her stomach signaled lunch time. She ed the stream of students heading to the Student Union Building, SUB, to use the common name. SUB occupied a location in the center of the campus, a short walk from the Biology building. The longest lineups curled out of the pizza and hamburger outlets. Glenda was sorely tempted to one but instead opted for the health food location selling salads and drink concoctions of fruit and vegetables.

She wondered what Harold might be having for lunch when she saw him heading out a rear door with a bag in hand clearly marked with the hamburger outlet logo and a large Coke, not even the diet version. She thought of running after him to remind him of their recent pact on nutrition but decided it would be

a waste of time. Instead she picked up a salad and small drink of carrot and beet juice. The taste confirmed it must be healthy. She took them outside and sat on a wall to nibble on her lunch. The warm September day brought back memories of days on the farm. She was only too glad to keep them as memories.

The pub in the SUB had not gone without Glenda’s attention. The idea of a drink to celebrate her first day as a UBC student occurred to her but with a small effort she put Satan behind her. The temptation was removed when she checked and saw the pub did not open until the afternoon. When she got back to the lab she called Harold and suggested a celebratory beer after work. He only too readily agreed.

Glenda and Harold met shortly after 4:00 for a pint. The pub had a large and unfamiliar range of beer on tap. She recognized Coors Light and considered it in keeping with her pact on weight reduction but then she ed the old joke:

Q: How are Coors Light and making love in a canoe the same?

A: They are both fucking near water.

Glenda did notice a brand called Granville Island and she had seen the brewery at the entrance to the island. She had wanted to go in but they were too early in the day. She opted for the Pale Ale and told Harold to get the lager so they could do a mini tasting. Both varieties were to her liking but Harold preferred the lighter flavor of the lager.

Glenda tipped her head back and took a large gulp and surveyed the surroundings. The room quickly filled up with a typical group of students in

jeans, sneakers and tee shirts carrying or wearing backpacks. They all looked pretty much the same. A slim young man stood out as the one exception. A wisp of blonde hair peeked out from under a brownish trilby style straw hat. On top he wore a peach shirt, open at the neck that hung out over a pair of fine blue linen pants. A pair of white plimsolls rounded out his ensemble. She wondered at his name but since she didn’t know gave herself the liberty of a secret christening and called him Tristan. She didn’t know where or when but she knew for sure they would cross paths again and she would learn his real name.

An attention getting cough from Harold startled her back to reality. He raised the question of dinner. Both agreed the menu did not include cooking and they easily decided to share a pizza in SUB. In keeping with their pact they decided on something vegetarian.

The trip home took them on a ride down to Jericho Beach, along the gravel paths through Jericho Beach Park and past the massive swimming pool. Harold pointed out that it is 137 metres long and filled with seawater. A nip in the September air confirmed for Glenda that she could wait for the pool opening next May for her first swim. They turned south near the Burrard Bridge to their one bedroom apartment in an older house in the Kits area. They could tell anyone that they lived in Kitsilano, just not at one of the posher addresses. The location still gave them easy access to such advantages as the beach and shopping at Granville Island and along West 4.

A difference in schedules soon meant they made the ride alone. Harold toiled in a 9 to 5 job and Glenda went in earlier and came home later. Before long they had separate meal times and only met in bed. By the time Glenda turned in Harold had usually nodded off. He could feel Glenda’s arrival and tried to cuddle up but she found such proximity too warm and would retreat to the edge of the bed until she could just hang on without ending up on the floor. They did reserve Saturday night for sexual reacquaintance, even though Harold would have preferred greater frequency of intimate .

After university had been in session for a couple of weeks Glenda received invitations to two greet and meet receptions. The first a faculty sponsored one to introduce the new graduate students to of the faculty and graduate students working outside their home lab.

Holmes marched his entourage from the lab to the reception held in a meeting room in SUB. He set out at almost a military pace leading the group into the room, where he banged his blackthorn walking stick on the floor to attract a maximum of attention and stood aside like a sergeant-major, his blackthorn stick tucked under his arm to usher his troops into the room. Glenda brought up the rear and as she stepped into the room a balding, gnome like man stepped forward and thrust out a hand.

“You must be the honourable Miss Glenda Miller. My old mate Higgins forewarned me of your arrival and sends his best regards. My name is Danforth, Duncan Danforth.”

“How do Dunky,” announced Holmes as he imposed his bulk between Glenda and the recently arrived Professor Danforth. “You been decorating any gardens of late?”

Danforth ignored Holmes and replied, “That hound of the Baskervilles not bit off your balls yet?”

For a parting last shot Danforth added, “If perfidious Charles works you too hard or doesn’t give you proper recognition for your genius I always have room in my lab.”

“Stay away from that man. He’ll pluck you bald, steal all your ideas and broadcast to the world, ‘I discovered it’. , we must be on guard to always wait until we are fully ready to allow the world the benefit our most path breaking research. Only then do we get paid back in our just rewards. Never forget, the world of science is a den of thieves waiting to leapfrog to the front of the pack, more on what they can steal than what they discover themselves.”

Glenda assured Holmes she would be most circumspect about what she told others outside the lab. She then added she would also proceed with equal caution amongst her lab colleagues.

As soon as she could do so politely she excused herself and went home where she knocked back a couple of beer to wash away the bad taste of the evening.

“Something wrong, “Harold asked? You don’t usually knock back the booze that quick.”

“Nothing serious, I’m just learning who I can dine with safely.”

Glenda’s social world hit a new peak the next evening. The Grad Student Assocation sponsored a social for students to meet each other from a variety of disciplines. Glenda invited Harold but he turned her down on the grounds that not being a grad student he didn’t think he would fit in. As it turned out his decision had a greater impact than Glenda might have ever guessed.

As Treasurer of the grad student council Hilary offered to go along with Glenda to make the introductions. She followed Hilary into a large room located in SUB. Despite a crowded room of great diversity Glenda lazered in on a slim blonde

haired young man in tight white jeans, an open neck white shirt draped over his slim jeans and wearing a pair of white plimsolls.

“Tristan”, she gasped.

“Uh,” grunted Hilary.

“I was just taking in the cute blonde guy. I saw him in SUB one day and christened him Tristan.”

“His real name’s Tyler.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s my cousin. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Hilary towed Glenda over to the corner where Tristan/Tyler stood with his back to the wall and one plimsolled foot resting on a wobbly card table chair.

Tyler flashed a smile of recognition when he saw Hilary advancing on him, and shouted over the din of the room, “Hi cuz, who’s your friend?”

“You have the pleasure of meeting my new lab mate and after she wins a Nobel

Prize I will be able to say I knew her when. And now you’ve met her you can say the same.”

Tyler flopped out a hand and flashed his best smile, “Charmed. Please honour me with your presence.”

He took his foot off the chair, grabbed a napkin from the ading table to wipe off the seat and swept a hand over the chair, á la Sir Walter Raleigh.

Glenda tittered and dipped a knee in her image of a curtsey.

“Very much a gentleman, your cousin, Hilary.”

“Oh he’s all that,” Hilary replied. “Do you plan to call him Tristan?”

“Tristan? Does that mean I should call you Isolde?”

Glenda had not heard of the tale of Tristan and Isolde, nor Wagner’s opera of the same name. After refreshing their drinks Tyler took the opportunity to show his erudition by recounting the story of the star-crossed lovers.

The story ended as Glenda finished the last sip from her wine glass. “Thank you for the story but I think I now prefer Tyler so no more Tristan and I’ll continue as Glenda. Time for me to go.”

“Where do you go to?”

Glenda told him the location of her apartment and she would be on her bike.

“We’re almost neighbours, lets ride together,” Tyler told her.

Tyler set an easy pace past the mansions in Point Grey and onto Cornwall, finally stopping in front of a two-story, red brick building with a flat roof. He pointed to a balcony on the second level, “My bedroom is behind that window.”

Glenda envied the location and view. She imagined him sitting up in his bed enjoying an unobstructed view of Kitsilano Beach, counting the ships at anchor in Burrard Inlet and checking for snow on Grouse Mountain and the mountains beyond. “Very nice for an English grad student” she said.

“I like it, especially the rent. As in free because my Auntie Mavis owns the building and lives on the first floor. Want to look around my digs.”

“I do but not now. I must get home.”

“Need to walk and feed the dog?”

“Something like that. But I would like to take up your offer another day.”

Tyler felt an attraction to Glenda, less because of physical beauty and more strength of will and a razor sharp mind. He was determined to get to know her in every way possible. He would not leave their next meeting open or to chance.

“How about tomorrow? I’ll do a Devon cream tea for us. Say 4:00 while we can still catch the setting sun shimmer on the water?”

A Devon cream tea intrigued her even though she had no idea what it involved. Only later did she learn Devon meant a county in the southwest of England. The only Devon she had ever known was a girl in her first year English class. But she never turned down a new experience. To say nothing of a visceral attraction churning her guts.

“Tomorrow at 4:00,” and vaulted onto her bike and rode off.

The next day Glenda left the lab early, claiming a medical appointment. Her real intent was to change from tee shirt and jeans into something she hoped more attractive. She choose her new plaid skirt, in a predominantly blue hue that she had picked up for 70% off in a going out of business sale on Granville Street. The skirt ended just above her knees, making it the shortest skirt of her life. She matched it with a chiffon, light blue blouse that she had owned since grade 12. As she was about to put them on she ed the black lingerie she bought many years before and rarely wore. She slipped out of her standard white panties and bra and substituted the lingerie. She wondered about mascara but ed she had none. She did have a not too bright tube of red lipstick and finished off with a quick spray of cologne, a birthday present from Harold. After a quick spin in front of the mirror she declared herself ready for her first Devon cream tea.

She chained her bike to a lamppost and walked up to the door. Before she could poke the bell Tyler stood grinning in the open doorway. He wore a plain white tee shirt and off white linen pants, his plimsolls were gone in favour of bare feet. Around his neck a gold amulet similar to a cross with an opening at the top like a key hung from a slim gold chain. When asked, he explained it is an ankh, an Egyptian amulet he had bought in Cairo. It is supposed to symbolize strength and eternal life. “I’ll take any and all the help I can get.”

He ushered Glenda into his living room and suggested she take in the view from the balcony while he finished making the tea. The kettle had started whistling for attention in the kitchen. She ired the view of couples promenading on the beach and dogs bounding through the surf.

She returned to the living room and sunk into a barrel like armchair. She bounced gently to test the firmness of the cushion. The chair matched a threecushion sofa, both in a pink floral pattern. Across from the sofa was a large brown leather chair and matching ottoman and books and magazines piled on a side table beside the chair, Tyler’s favorite perch. The knick-knacks and paintings on the wall were a mix of woodcarvings and miniature modern sculpture. Similarly on the wall hung modern art reproductions from Jackson Pollock and Picasso alongside real life depictions of a shaded forest glen, a brightly coloured bowl of apples and pears and a horse looking over a fence at a dog sleeping on the other side. An interesting mix of Auntie Mavis and Tyler, Glenda thought.

“Ta da,” broke Glenda’s reverie. “Tea is served.”

Tyler strode into the room carrying a silver tray with a teapot and two matching china cups covered in tiny blue flowers. The tray included a plate of warm, freshly baked scones and two bowls, one with something red and the other bearing white contents. He placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa and patted the adjacent cushion. When she sat down he handed her a plate in the

same pattern as the tea set and a large linen napkin. Glenda knew her mother would be impressed.

“I’ll be Mother and pour,” Tyler said. “Excuse the bare hands, I couldn’t find my white gloves.”

In finest English fashion Tyler poured milk into each of their cups, followed by a stream of hot tea from the pot that he held high enough over the cups to make a display. He then picked up the sugar bowl and tongs and asked, “one or two.”

Barely suppressing a smile Glenda held up two fingers.

Tyler dropped the sugar lumps into the cup and handed it to Glenda. “Now, do you know the ritual of the Devon cream teas?” Glenda shook her head.

Tyler split one of the scones in half and spread a generous portion of the thick cream on top followed by an equally generous portion the strawberry jam. As he bit into one of the halves he murmured, “Your turn.”

Glenda followed Tyler’s example, plopping a generous portion of clotted cream on a warm scone, followed by the thick strawberry jam with whole strawberries. She wanted to lick the spoon but stopped with it half way to her mouth.

“Mmmm, delicious and you warmed the scones.”

“I did not,” Tyler retorted. “They are fresh out of the oven. Everyone in our family competes at making scones and Yorkshire Pudding. I know I make the best scones but Father will never it it.”

“So sorry,” Glenda replied and reached for another scone.

“I have more in the kitchen if you would like an encore.”

Glenda patted her stomach and slumped back on the sofa, “No thanks, two are filling enough I won’t need to eat again today.”

Tyler gave the teapot a shake and said, “Maybe enough for a cup or two each. Since you have no room for another of my most superb scones I have an excellent and non-filling alternative __ Krupnik.”

Tyler pushed himself off the sofa and walked over to a cabinet and returned with a bottle of pale yellow liquid and a pair of crystal liqueur glasses. He filled them both almost to the rim and ed one to Glenda.

Glenda raised the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip. “Mmmm, sweet like honey, what am I drinking?”

“Krupnik, a Polish honey liqueur that goes well with tea, don’t you think?”

“Very much,” holding out her glass for a refill that Tyler happily fulfilled.

This time Glenda alternated sips of tea with sips of Krupnik. When she drained the last drop of Krupnik she pulled her feet underneath her and snuggled up to Tyler with her head on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her and pulled her closer so she could drape one leg between his. The inner warmth of the sweet liqueur and the coziness of Tyler’s body floated Glenda into dreamland. She drifted into a childhood dream riding a white horse with her arms wrapped tightly around the naked chest of Terry, her own Knight Errant. A name close enough to Tyler. She wrapped her arms around Tyler in the same way.

After a short snooze Glenda stirred and rolled onto her back. Tyler took advantage of the shift to undo the top buttons on Glenda’s blouse to reveal her black bra. It made him think he had a woman with ions she didn’t wear on her sleeve. He slipped a hand under the bra with the desired effect when he felt her nipples rise and harden.

Glenda could feel Tyler’s hand settle over her breasts. An image of Harold flashed through her mind that she easily dispelled. She didn’t want anything to disrupt the pleasure and sensuality warming her body. If anything she thought Tyler could move on to the pleasure she felt rising in her groin. She pulled Tyler’s mouth to hers and kissed him with her tongue searching deep into his mouth. At the same time she pushed his free hand between her legs. Tyler groped under the plaid skirt and inside the panties to realize the time had come to move to a more comfortable venue.

Without need for a word he led a more than willing Glenda into the bedroom. They took turns removing each other’s clothes, all the while covering each other in kisses. Tyler lost his shirt first. Then came Glenda’s blouse and bra. Down came the plaid skirt, followed by Tyler’s pants. After a longing look at each other they removed their own underwear to ire each other’s nakedness. Tyler flopped onto the bed and pulled Glenda on top of him.

Glenda lay on her back, eyes closed with a slight smile parting her lips and rested her head in the crook of Tyler’s neck. She relished the receding warmth rolling down her body.

Tyler pushed the bed covers down to Glenda’s waist, pushed himself up on his elbow and traced circles around her breasts. Her years on the farm had developed a full and firm body, not like the skinny waifs he had known in his past.

Glenda raised herself up and giggled, “You trying for a double header?”

“No, just enjoying your body. But I would put in a bid for a repeat performance another day. For now we could share some of this.” He pulled a plastic bag from a drawer in the bedside table and offered it to Glenda. “Care for a toke?”

“Maybe next time.”

Glenda swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her clothes.

“Let me help you,” Tyler offered. He snapped the clasp on her bra and took full advantage to survey her chest while he fastened the buttons on her blouse.

He followed Glenda to the front door and kissed her before asking, “When can I see you again?”

“Tomorrow, same time, same place,” Glenda replied.

And so began their own version of what Tyler called a cing à sept rendez-vous, even though the actual time was more like four to six. They mostly stuck to a Monday to Friday schedule but on occasion when she could skip out on Saturday shopping at Granville Island with Harold and also delay her arrival at the lab she would drop in on a willing Tyler for a quick nooner on her way to the university.

To make four o’clock Glenda began to leave the lab around 3:30 instead of closer to her usual 6:00 to be on her bike and down the hill of Marine Drive to a primed and ready Tyler. She now had to rejig her time at the lab and home. Instead of working at the lab until 6:00 and returning home for dinner and study until she nodded off or Harold said midnight had come, she now returned to the lab for a couple of hours after a quick dinner prepared by Harold. When he asked why the change in schedule she said it had to do with new routines at the lab.

At first Harold didn’t mind, he even enjoyed the solitude and chance to flip channels without interruption, or play the music he liked at his own decibel level. But after a few weeks it all became too much, seen that, done that and he wondered more and more what Glenda really did at this precious lab of hers. He even thought of following her back to the university but knew immediately that it would not be well received. Glenda did not react well to what she considered any invasion of her private space.

Glenda looked forward to her daily dalliance. Tyler proved to be a skilled sexual partner who made great efforts to invent creative twists that added spice and excitement. He was also usually open to Glenda’s suggestion to travel down new roads dreamt up at night before nodding off. Although he did have his limits if it came to anything physical. On one occasion while in the throes of ion Glenda gave him a smart slap on the butt that brought activities to an end and a gentle but firm comment from Tyler that he did not find it erotic, merely painful. Glenda immediately put aside thoughts of anything more extreme.

It wasn’t only the sex that attracted her. His post coital tales of living and studying abroad when his father worked in Paris and London and as he grew older his travels to all continents but Antarctica held her in rapt attention. He also drew on his studies in English to delight Glenda while their naked bodies were entwined by reading from authors she had only heard of but did not know, such as Joyce and Proust and some she had not known before such as selections from the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. Long periods of silence did not exist between Glenda and Tyler, the type she often found with Harold.

Tyler’s ever present supply of marijuana rounded out their afternoon very nicely. Glenda sometimes wondered what it would be like to try something a little further up the substance chain, such as cocaine or even heroin. He did have one other minor substance abuse. He smoked strong French cigarettes called Gauloises that she never could pronounce quite right. She did try them from time to time but when she tried to inhale the smoke caught in her throat and brought back the days of her smoking lessons from Sammy Caw.

Tyler himself proved the strongest drug. She couldn’t last more than twenty-four hours without an injection. The effect was entirely visceral that shook the depths of her stomach. But the effect was physical and in no way an emotion she might call love. A new experience like none before and sensitivity like none before, other than in her fantasy moments. She had a sense that Tyler’s emotions may be moving in a different direction to the point where he might even blurt out a declaration of love. She didn’t think of it as necessary and possibly a distraction and hoped he never raised the subject. She knew Harold thought he loved her and she was fond of him. After all, without him she might now be mired in a Grande school trying to teach Biology and Math to an unruly bunch of brats. But for now her world revolved around her four to six, cing à sept.

But like any drug it came with a price. Her increased absence from the lab could only be compensated for by her brilliance and continuous flow of ideas for a short time. She finally fell into Holmes bad books when she showed up at one of

their regular meetings with the draft of a paper that he found far from adequate. Her transgression resulted in a late submission to an important conference that Holmes always attended. He only got the paper onto the program after supplicating himself before the organizers. A humiliation he could not let without payback and did so by withdrawing Glenda’s invitation to the conference and removing her name from the paper.

Problems also crept in on the home front. Glenda’s exhaustion from work and Tyler began to result in complaints of a headache when Harold approached her for one of their regular Saturday night sexual encounters. Harold suffered in silence but true to form, kept his peace.

One night when Glenda did make it home for dinner Harold told her he had seen her bike chained to a lamppost along Cornwall. She told him it must have been a look alike bike, she was certain that Canadian Tire must have sold a lot of the same model. However, from then on she adopted a rear entrance and exit from Tyler’s house and parked inside the back porch.

Too bad Glenda didn’t find as safe a place at UBC. She came out from the lab one day to head off for her daily tryst to find a severed chain dangling from the bike rack. She saw an unlocked bike nearby and thought of borrowing it with of course the intention of replacement when finished with the day’s number one priority. Discretion finally came to the fore and instead she phoned Tyler to explain the predicament before reporting the theft to campus security.

She ed the security office from her arrival on campus. She pushed the door back and on the other side of the counter a tallish man with russet hair that had a hint of grey around the edges growled into the phone, “I’m sorry professor, your genius and research record are not relevant to the issue, you parked in a restricted zone and the fine stands. Yeah, you have a good day too, asshole (under his breath).”

An amply proportioned woman of a ‘certain age’ as the French like to say, who looked like a Dolly Parton knock-off, clapped her hands and flashed a row of brilliant white caps and chimed, “You tell ’em boss, don’t let them hoity toity academics try to buffalo you.”

The woman turned and saw Glenda, “Now what can I do for you, missy?”

Glenda ignored the woman and turned her attention to the man. “I know you, we met a few years ago, you were an RCMP officer, Sergeant Fraser and you gave me a ride home.”

“Yes, I now, but I have a lapse on the name.”

“Glenda Miller.”

“Gus Fraser, no longer of the RCMP, now UBC campus security. Nice to meet again. Now what can we do for you.”

Glenda gave the woman, who said, call her Marley, a description of her bike, where it had been stolen and the value. When she had finished she turned to go and said, “Thanks for listening. I guess there isn’t much chance of finding it.”

“Oh, sometimes they show up,” Marley said.

Gus held the door for Glenda and said, “Come by sometime, Let me buy you a coffee, us folk from Saskatchewan have to stick together.”

Glenda didn’t feel the same need for provincial solidarity but the idea of coffee with Gus did intrigue her. “Thanks, I will.”

She hated the idea but saw no alternative to except regretfully on Tyler. He expressed the same feeling but promised a surprise the next day. She decided to catch the bus and rest at home. The first day she and Tyler had not been together since they started their cinq á sept.

She stepped into the empty apartment and searched out a cold bottle of Granville Island lager and slumped onto the sofa to sift through the mail. A large brown envelope addressed in her mother’s unique style of calligraphy caught her eye. Father had yet to forgive her for not living up to his dreams and expectations and Mother had to go along to get along. Although a slight thaw had appeared lately. Mother had been able to resume her Sunday night phone calls even though Father continued to decline participation. When Mother asked if he wanted to at least chip in with a perfunctory, Hi, Glenda heard him in the background reply with a, “not tonight, you tell me her news.”

After a long pull on her beer Glenda sliced open the envelope to find a copy of the Grande weekly paper. Mother had circled an article in red with the caption, ‘Former Grande Student Wins Top Award for Stanford”. The article explained how her former lab mate, Eric, had graduated with First Class Honours from St. Andrews University and been awarded a prestigious graduate scholarship in Chemistry at Stanford University. It also commented that he had turned down equally prestigious awards to stay in Britain to study at either Oxford or Imperial College.

Glenda reread the article and carefully noted how much more Eric would get than her current stipend. She felt a mixture of happy and proud for him but envious over the money. A congratulatory note was very much in order. She would also have to finagle a visit to Stanford. She always kept a soft spot for Eric. Only before he seemed so withdrawn. He had clearly overcome such a problem, if it had ever really existed. Who knows what new tricks they might show each other on a night of reacquaintance.

She gave a cursory glance at the remaining pages but stopped in open-mouthed disbelief at the Obituaries page. The name, Samuel (Sammy) Jerome Caw jumped off the page. Her friend Sammy couldn’t be dead. Guilt swept over her at not having kept in closer touch and seen him before moving to Vancouver. She knew he was considered the town ne’er do well, or as most people said, town drunk. But to her he was a close and valued friend who introduced her to some of the ways of the so called, real world.

As she read on she learned Sammy once held a position of prestige and respect in the town. He had first come to Grande as one of two designated imports allowed to play on the local hockey team. He played for five years, led the league in scoring every year and helped the team win three league championships and two provincial championships. In the summer he set up a delivery business serving local grocery stores and the railroad. He had bought a house and became engaged to a local nurse when his world disintegrated. While driving to Saskatoon one night a drunken driver crossed the middle of the road and crashed into them head on. Sammy’s beloved died the next day. When Sammy recovered consciousness he lived in a world of denial over the death of his love. He eventually recovered physically but never emotionally. He never laced up a pair of skates again, walked away from the down payment on his little white house and moved into a one room basement apartment the hockey coach let him have at no charge in recognition of his past contributions. He struggled through every day hiding inside a bottle.

Glenda put the paper aside and rolled up into a ball on top of her bed and wailed

like the banshees had come. By the time Harold arrived home she had cried herself asleep. When he saw her eyes, red and swollen, he asked what happened. All she could do was hand him the article about Sammy. Harold couldn’t understand her grief at the death of a long ago hockey player and town drunk but in his usual manner just held Glenda in a tight cuddle. She found solace in the only warm body available.

The next morning the talking clock chirped, ‘get up’, at 5: a.m. She had slept little, if at all. Thoughts and images of the Crow hung over her the entire night. The images flipped from his toothless laugh at her coughing and choking on a gulp of rye to watching the tobacco float to the ground as again, her roll your own cigarette fell apart. She saw herself try to reach out and hug him but he floated away, always an arm’s length out of reach.

She had set the alarm early to put in the time at the lab. Holmes had commanded a set of tables from their latest project be ready by eight and she had much to do. As luck would have it Holmes kept to his usual habit of being late and didn’t arrive until 8:30. By the time he had deposited his blackthorn walking stick in the umbrella stand, hung up his Barbour coat and Sherlock Holmes hat Glenda had the tables assembled and placed in a puce folder. All projects Holmes put his name to used his favorite colour. All other projects could use any colour they liked but never puce.

Glenda handed over the folder and said, “Good morning Professor Holmes, can I get you a morning beverage?”

“Had my coffee”, Holmes replied as he flipped through the tables. “Looks OK, no errors I hope. Your last results didn’t appear quite as I expected. You must not have followed my procedures to the letter. Be careful this time. I’ll be in touch. Send me the next set of results no later than day after tomorrow.” Whereupon he retrieved his hat, walking stick and coat and stomped out.

Glenda breathed a sigh of relief and went in search of her first coffee of the morning. She also found the bonus of half a sugar crusted doughnut of uncertain vintage but since that would be breakfast she found it almost palatable with a little dunking in the coffee.

She settled in for the rest of the day to generate the results Holmes wanted with an eye on the clock for when she could safely escape to meet Tyler. They had much to catch up on and he had promised a surprise.

When the lab clock finally inched up to 3:30 she slipped on her jacket and grabbed her bike helmet. Harold had let her use his bike and taken the bus that morning. As always she parked her bike at the back of Tyler’s place and yelled out, “Anyone home,” as she walked into the kitchen?

“Just one fiercely horny English student,” came the reply.

Tyler rushed into the kitchen and demonstrated his feeling with a deep and ionate kiss and at the same time pushed Glenda’s hand down the front of his pants. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No doubt about it,” said Glenda and gave her handful an extra tug and a twist.

“Don’t rush it,” Tyler said. “Wait until the surprise.”

Tyler led her into the bedroom where he waved an arm, “Surprise!”

The only surprise was she saw no surprise.

The wide smile left Tyler’s face and he said, “Look closely.”

Glenda noted a shiny sheet on the bed and a quick rub confirmed her guess, thick plastic.

“Now look at the side table.”

“See, banana, whipping cream, chocolate sauce, maraschino cherries and vanilla ice cream. You and I are going to make banana splits.”

“Where are the dishes,” Glenda asked?

“We are,” and Tyler ran his hand over Glenda’s stomach and down to her crotch with a quick rub.

“You mean we’re going to spread that goo all over our bodies?” Glenda immediately saw that was not the response Tyler expected and tried to fake more enthusiasm. Instead of saying what she thought which was, sex first, banana split for dessert, she said, “OK, who goes first?”

“I’ll do you to show you how it’s done and then you can do me. First let me peel

you before I peel the banana.”

Tyler stripped off Glenda’s clothes and placed her spread-eagled on the bed. He then split a peeled banana length-wise and placed the halves on either side of Glenda’s belly button. Next came a scoop of ice cream right onto her belly button. Glenda flinched as the cold ice cream plopped onto her warm body. All the while Tyler whistled ‘Waltzing Matilda’ and each time he added to the growing, melting pile, he removed an article of his clothing. He finished with a final flourish of whipping cream and dropped a cherry on top. As he stepped back to ire his creation he made one last flourish, another dollop of whipped cream on Glenda’s crotch and a cherry on top.

“Done yet,” a less than cheerful Glenda groaned?

“Done and diving in.”

Tyler started with his final crotch level creation and worked his way up. He devoured the halves of banana in two bites each and with a noisy slurping sound sucked up the final remains. He took care of the residue that smeared Glenda’s belly with a damp cloth he had ready for the occasion.

“Wasn’t that out of this world,” Tyler said, clearly pleased with himself. “I’ve always wanted to try that. Your turn now”, as he flopped onto the bed spreadeagled.

Glenda had no intention of doing the banana split routine and as Tyler already had his own firm banana at the ready she jumped on the bed and before he could react settled herself on top of Tyler and began rocking back and forth.

Tyler recognized the futility of any protest and decided to relax and enjoy it rather than suffer the cold, sticky fate that Glenda endured.

Tyler had now arrived at the writing stage of his dissertation. Not being a technonerd he saw no need for anything fancy in the computer line and had always resisted suggestions he move up from his aging laptop. The consequence was periodic breakdowns and delays in his writing progress. He now suffered from the distress of yet, another technical delay. He had tried the only means his limited knowledge allowed him to correct the fault, turn the machine on and off, which he tried several times with a lack of success. He at last searched out the phone number for the university Help line and found himself placed on hold with a voice message saying the delay would be about thirty minutes. In frustration he decided to appear in person at the Help desk, computer in hand.

Tyler walked into the Help Desk office just as Harold hung up his phone. Instead of moving on to the next call in line he decided it would be better to deal with the sorrowful young man in front of him holding out an aged IBM laptop and mouthing the words, “Save me.”

“Something wrong with your little machine here,” Harold asked?

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Tyler responded. He also noted he was dealing with a stereotypical computer geek dressed in a less than white Budweiser tee shirt decorated with the evidence of a meal of long ago, black jeans, bent wire rimmed glasses and running shoes missing the shoe laces.

“Let’s see what we can do,” Harold said as he relieved Tyler of the offensive piece of hardware. “Have a seat, it shouldn’t take long.”

Tyler placed himself in the hard wooden chair opposite Harold and congratulated himself on appearing in person, rather than relying on the phone connection. Besides, he now had someone to do the job for him.

While Harold fiddled with the computer and muttered geek speak incantations Tyler surveyed the mostly barren room. He did a double take when he noticed a framed photo on Harold’s desk, that could only be a wedding picture. But not any wedding picture. Harold played the role of groom and without a doubt the hand he held was Glenda’s. Jealousy overwhelmed him, he must be sitting across from Glenda’s husband. He of course knew of Harold but until today he had been an abstract apparition of no consequence. He had now become a live, in the flesh being. A real person. But Tyler needed confirmation.

“By the way, my name’s Tyler. That your wedding picture?”

Harold looked up from his work and replied, “Harold here. And, yep, that’s me’n Glenda on our wedding day. Best day of my life. She’s a genius and a grad student here.”

“Yes, I think I may have met her once at a grad student event. Small world isn’t it.”

Harold didn’t like the feeling in his stomach that Tyler’s comments produced. “Have you seen her since,” Harold asked?

Somewhat too quickly Tyler responded, “Oh no, but I would surely recognize

her if I do see her again.”

Harold happily ended the exchange by handing over the laptop and said, “You should be fine now, all fixed.”

“Thanks,” Tyler said and hastily exited.

Tyler peered over a sketchpad at Glenda from his perch on the sofa as she walked into the sitting room, unbuttoning her blouse.

“What ya’ drawing? Can I look?”

She didn’t wait for a reply but snuggled up to Tyler and peered over his shoulder. She saw a caricature of a male, ruffled hair, a prominent hairy nose, elephant ears and bent wire rimmed glasses with a diagonal crack across one lens. The image had a vague familiarity that Glenda couldn’t quite place it until Tyler penned the word ‘Help’ in one corner scrawled ‘Harold’ across the bottom.

“Is that meant to be my husband?”

“Yep, I met him earlier today when he fixed my computer.”

“That’s mean. Why?”

“I can’t understand why you’re with him. You deserve so much better.”

“Like you?”

“Well, yes. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Harold is a warm, lovable human being who would do anything for me. Without him I wouldn’t be here at UBC. He doesn’t have a nasty streak like you have just demonstrated.”

Glenda rebuttoned her blouse, stood up and announced, “I don’t like it here for now. Good-bye.”

When Glenda arrived home she found Harold slouching in their sagging single armchair, a beer in one hand, the remote in the other as he cycled through the limited number of channels they could afford on their basic plan. Two empty bottles lay on the floor beside him.

“Anymore of those in the fridge,” she asked.

“Yeah, I bought a six-pack, bottle of cheap Shiraz too for dinner.”

Glenda pulled up one of the kitchen chairs and sat beside Harold. “What brings on this beer binge?”

“A client who dropped by today. He thinks he met you. He recognized you in our wedding picture.”

Glenda took a long swig of beer to buy time for a reply.

“What’s for dinner?”

“You didn’t answer my question?”

Harold gave a thumbnail description of Tyler and waited for an answer.

“It could be Hilary’s cousin. She works in my lab. They came together to a sort of, get to know your fellow grad student function, just after classes started. I asked you to come but you said no.”

“Guess I should have come. Have you seen him since?”

“No. Now what’s for dinner?”

As much as he welcomed the change in topic Harold still wondered. Maybe he could concoct a way to meet this Hilary to find out more.

“I shopped on the way home. I picked up a vegetarian pizza, a container of butter chicken to reheat and some brown rice. What’s your choice?”

“Butter chicken and rice. And the bottle of Shiraz.”

Glenda turned on the evening news for a dinnertime distraction and source of conversation other than anything personal. The usual mix of chaos and disaster carried them through dinner. When the last drop of the Shiraz disappeared and without a word Glenda took over the cleaning up while Harold removed the garbage.

Harold asked if she wanted a post dinner walk but she declined in favour of a shower and early to bed. She gently rubbed the back of his neck and suggested he consider a similar routine. When Harold ed her in bed she took over a massage routine that started along his back and ended between his legs.

Harold couldn’t believe his good fortune. It wasn’t even Saturday but he had no intention of questioning his luck and went along to get along and get off. He cuddled up to Glenda and feigned sleep as he continued to wonder what had happened.

Glenda too feigned sleep and hoped her attention had allayed some of Harold’s concern. What to do? One thing was to make sure Tyler stayed away from Harold.

Glenda had no intention of giving up on Tyler but she had to be more careful with Harold. She wasn’t ready for a divorce. It would interfere too much with her research and gaining a meaningful place in the scientific community. Glenda

had let Tyler take too dominant a role in their relationship. That had to change.

Tyler knew he had gone too far trashing Harold to Glenda. Her response to his charms made him doubt she had a deep and binding attraction to Harold. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time to get Glenda out of the bind of being chained to her hometown under steely parental surveillance. But he didn’t want to lose her. The combination of the physical and intellectual created an emotional cocktail that intoxicated him more than any other relationship he had known.

After a sleepless night and sifting through a variety of alternatives Tyler finally settled on what he thought of as the most risky one to tie Glenda ever closer to him. But as a business friend of his liked to say, ‘no risk, no reward’. He found what he wanted in the small safe he kept at the back of his clothes closet. A one carat diamond ring that had belonged to his mother. He had often thought of having it made into a ring for himself but decided the time for sacrifice had arrived but not as an engagement ring, more like a ‘friendship ring’. He would explain the time had not come for a formality like marriage. That could wait until they had finished school and become more established. He knew Glenda to be ambitious and was sure she would go along. He felt comfortable that he had something tangible and of value to give her and not just a string of words, no matter how eloquent he might put them.

Glenda took one more day off before seeing Tyler again. It was a Thursday and made easier because Harold had started going out that evening to play pool and drink beer with friends from work. Glenda said it was fine because she could use the time to catch up on her research.

Tyler wanted to make it a special occasion and bought scented candles for atmosphere and set his music machine with warm, but not too intrusive music, rather like a massage studio. He upgraded the wine from the usual $20 bottle to one almost $40. It was to go along with a plate of smoked salmon and Brie with

thin slices of crusty baguette.

He heard Glenda enter from the backdoor and clomp up the stairs announcing, “Hi, I’m back, get ready.”

She stopped abruptly when she stepped into the dim room, smelling of roses and hibiscuses. “What happened, somebody die?”

“No, this is for us.”

He guided her to the sofa and poured the wine. He raised his glass in a toast and said, “To our love forever.” And handed Glenda a velvet ring box.

Glenda didn’t have to open the box to know one her greatest fears had been realized. She hesitated but could feel Tyler’s impatience. She opened the box and held up the ring.

“Put it on.”

Glenda slipped the ring on the third finger of her right hand.

“No damn it, the left hand.” Tyler pulled the ring off Glenda’s right hand and placed it on the ring finger of her left hand. Tyler then went into a complicated explanation of it being a friendship ring and not an engagement ring but it did express his love for her.

Glenda couldn’t bring herself to say the word she knew Tyler wanted to hear. Instead she took diversionary action of stripping him of his clothes and making love to him until the point of exhaustion. When she rolled off him she said, “I hope that shows how I feel about you.” Which of course was true. She loved him for sex, period. She only hoped that left room for Tyler to make the interpretation he preferred.

Glenda took off the ring and returned it to the box. “You know I can only wear the ring when I’m here with you.”

“Put it back on for now to celebrate. For something new I want to take you to a place like you’ve never been before. Are you game for something completely different?”

For the first time they ventured forth into the outside world as a couple. Sort of their first date. Tyler borrowed his aunt’s ancient Honda Civic and drove into what Glenda soon recognized as East Hastings, the worst part of the city.

Tyler pulled up to a light just in time to miss a hairy young man in Farmer John overalls, no shirt or shoes, race in front of the car, a beer can firmly gripped in his right hand. Close behind came an older bald man in a muscle shirt, torn jeans and Doc Martens wielding an iron bar. Tyler also noted he carried a sheathed blade on his hip.

The two disappeared around the corner and Tyler turned the other way, just missing a scantily clad white haired woman carrying an old chair. She stopped long enough to give Tyler the finger and express her opinion of his driving, “Fucking ass-hole.”

“Is this safe,” Glenda asked.

“Of course, if you mind your business. Especially the place we’re going.”

Tyler parked down a side street and led Glenda to large oak door with the rear end of a beaver in the middle, tail raised to slap the warning signal. “Welcome to the Beaver Tail,” Tyler announced.

Tyler pushed the door open and ushered Glenda into an almost lightless room. The smell of pot filled the room and as Glenda became accustomed to the dim light she saw a number of fully occupied tables. The only light in the room came from flickering candles in mason jars. She also noticed that the tables either had males, or females, but nowhere did the twain meet. The crowded dance floor also had same sex couples locked together swaying to the jazz notes of a piano, bass and guitar.

“You brought me to a gay bar,” Glenda shouted.

“Yeah, I thought you might like something a little different. Do you see any empty tables?”

At that moment Glenda felt a tug on her hand. Startled, she pulled her hand back but heard, “Glenda, it’s me, Hilary.”

Glenda peered through the dim to recognize her lab mate sitting with three other

women.

“Here, we have a couple of spare chairs, us and I’ll try to get you a drink.”

At that moment a full-figured woman walked by carrying a tray of drinks to the next table. She wore a white shirt tied just below her ample bosom. Her bare belly rolled gently over the top of her cut off blue jean shorts. She had a nose ring, two large diamond studs in each ear, gold rings half way up her left arm and a leather band around her right wrist and a captains hat perched on the back of her short black hair. Her black lipstick contrasted sharply with the bright red rouge on her cheeks but matched her black, hand tooled cowboy boots. When she turned her back to set the drinks on the next table Glenda noticed the rear of her pants had been cut out to show off a most impressive butt. A tattoo on one cheek of a naked woman riding a brahma bull and on the other cheek a naked woman draped in a feather boa. In both cases the tattoos were a replica of the woman herself.

“Hey Willy, any chance of getting a drink,” Hilary yelled out. “You have to be forward here or you’ll die of thirst,” Hilary added.

Willy spun around and flashed a row of very white, straight teeth, “What’ll it be girls and boy?”

Willy returned and set down glasses of wine for Glenda and Tyler and a pitcher of beer for the rest of the table. When she had finished she stepped back and took a long look at Glenda, “You’re my type, I could go for you. I’m off next Thursday, drop by here and I’ll buy you a drink.”

Before Glenda could reply Willy disappeared through the tables. It was just as well because Glenda had no reply.

Tyler did. “Let’s get out of here. This has been a big mistake.”

Eighteenth

T hursday morning Glenda woke earlier than usual, still undecided about the evening. Harold lay on his back, mouth slightly open, a gentle, barely audible hum murmuring forth. Glenda noticed his fine sandy hair had crept back a few inches on his forehead and she knew a bald spot had appeared at the back that he had started to carefully comb over. He would have his usual pool and beer outing with his workmates tonight so that would take care of him. She had already taken the precaution of telling Tyler she would be tied up with Holmes, making up for recent transgressions in her research results. She would think more about what to do as the day ed. She hadn’t promised Willy that she would show up but she knew what she wanted to do.

She dressed as usual in jeans and a traditional blue UBC sweatshirt but she packed her black sheer lingerie and one of Harold’s white shirts for a later transformation. She looked forward to what the unknown of the night might bring. It had an unusual calming effect and she did some of her best work in a long time. She finally thought she had results that would please the increasingly truculent Holmes.

She dropped by Holmes office, safe in the knowledge that he would have long since gone for his after work libation. She slipped the brown paper envelope under the door. It contained her latest and best results that she hoped would get him off her back so she could explore erotic frontiers, rather than the latest hit parade topics in biogenetics.

To fill in the rest of the time she stopped by SUB for a pizza and celebratory beer. Her original intention had been to order the usual thin crust, feta and spinach pizza but she decided on something more fitting to a night of decadence. She ordered a peperoni, mushroom and bacon deep-dish pizza and finished it to

the last crumb.

She took a bus downtown and walked from there to the Beaver Tail. She had the route carefully memorized and rushed along Hastings avoiding eye and groping hands pleading for coins until she found the alley leading to the large oak door with the rear end of a beaver in the middle, tail raised to slap the warning sign. She slipped inside and headed immediately to the washroom and exchanged her sweatshirt for the white shirt that she let hang out over her jeans that now covered her black lingerie. A quick spin in front of the mirror satisfied her that she was ready to debut.

It was early enough in the evening that the room was only dim, not dark and the music had not reached screech level, drowning out any possibility of communication other than sign language. Glenda searched the room and finally found Willy sitting alone behind a glass of pale gold liquid at the end of the bar. Willy had been following Glenda’s search since she stepped into the room. When she knew Glenda had found her she waved and flashed her best toothy smile.

It took Glenda a brief moment to that it was Willy waving. This version displayed a feminine side Glenda missed on their first acquaintance. She wore a blue jean dress, white rhinestone encrusted cowboy boots and a burgundy scarf knotted around her neck. The dress did have a low cut that showed off an ample, deep cleavage. The only facial make-up she wore was a slash of red gloss that had a shine but didn’t shout for attention.

Glenda waved back and quickly occupied the chair beside Willy. She brushed her lips across Willy’s cheek that was returned with a slow kiss.

“You look different, fantastic, but different,” Glenda said.

“I wanted to remind you that despite my work clothes, I am a woman. In fact, as you will find out, all woman. Now what will you have to drink?”

“What’s that in front of you?”

“Lagavulin, king of the single malts, or I should say, queen of the single malts.”

Glenda leaned over and raised the glass toward her lips but stopped the instant she got a whiff of the contents. “Whoa, that clears the head.”

“That’s the peat and what makes the drink so unique. It’s sort of an acquired taste. Pick a glass of your favorite wine and we’ll grab a booth.”

Glenda and Willy spent their time sipping scotch and wine and getting better acquainted. Glenda tried to keep her brief and factual since she wanted to learn more about Willy who turned out to be a willing accomplice. She learned that Willy came from a small town in the interior of British Columbia and Vancouver was the only other place she had ever lived. When she realized that her sexual preference was clearly bent to her own sex and not males she blurted it out at dinner one night. Her father went into a state of apoplexy and ordered her out of the house.

She had been living in Vancouver now for almost ten years, having arrived at the age of sixteen. Some of the time on the street and cycling through a variety of jobs. Also a variety of partners. After a weekend with what she thought were trusted friends and partner she returned to the conscious world Monday morning

to find herself alone and the money from her last paycheque gone, along with her stash of grass and coke. After two weeks of solitary camping out on Jericho Beach and in Stanley Park she decided the time had come to get a grip. She found a small but affordable apartment and work at the Beaver Tail provided an income beyond any she had ever known. She still enjoyed a toke and snort but congratulated herself on keeping it under control. She had also remained celibate until Glenda walked into her life and decided the time had come to end that state. She knew in her bones she could never leave Glenda, nor allow Glenda to leave her.

Willy tipped her glass to drain out the last drop of scotch and crunched the remaining ice cube. She thumped it down on the table and announced, “Want to move to my place?”

Glenda nodded assent.

They walked out of the alley and headed in the direction of the police station on Hastings and Main. Out of nowhere Willy felt a slap on the shoulder and a mottled faced woman jumped in front of her. “Got five bucks for a bite?”

Willy recoiled and Glenda jumped behind her.

“Hey, I know you. You’re Willy. Nice dress. We did it once, ? Who’s your shy friend hiding behind you skirt tails? Wanna do a three-some?”

Glenda had no idea how to react but Willy did. She grabbed the woman by the arm twisted it behind her back and pushed her into the gutter. When she tried to climb back on the sidewalk Willy shot out a rhinestone cowboy boot knocking

the woman on her behind.

“Now piss-off before I hurt you.”

“Thanks for the rescue,” Glenda said and wrapped her arms around Willy in gratitude.

Willy led Glenda to her apartment on the second floor of a building in Chinatown. Willy had told her it was small but affordable. Glenda found herself in a two-room apartment. The second room was the bathroom with toilet, sink and shower. The most prominent feature of the main room was a large bed along one wall.

“Let me help you get more comfortable,” Willy said and removed Glenda’s shirt. Glenda removed her own skirt and by the time she had finished Willy stood only in her panties.

Willy stepped back to ire Glenda’s black lingerie. “Very nice. I didn’t know we were going formal tonight.”

Glenda tittered and turned a light shade of red.

Willy turned back the covers on the bed. They locked in embrace and relished a voyage of discovery with fingers and tongue. At last, spent, they rolled onto their back to catch their breath.

“You are good,” Willy said. I can tell you have experience with men too. There is something about a woman like that, which makes them different from a straight butch woman. Will you stay the night?”

“I can’t” Glenda replied.

“How about a toke before you go, or a line of blow?”

“A toke will do.”

They shared a t and Willy helped Glenda back into her black panties and bra. “Maybe some day you’ll let me wear them,” Willy asked.

“Of course, next time. I’ll call you.”

“You better, or I’ll call you,” Willy said.

After a good night kiss Glenda rushed into the street and caught a ing cab. She knew if she rushed home she could just get to bed before Harold came back from his night out. On Glenda’s instructions the cab stopped a block away since she had no excuse to tell Harold why she was coming home from the lab in a cab.

Glenda had a quick shower to remove any odor related evidence from Willy that might have clung to her. She slipped into bed and managed to feign sleep just in

time before she heard Harold tiptoe in. She felt him slide in beside her, the smell of beer acknowledging where he had spent the evening. As always he snuggled close to Glenda but not so close as to disturb her.

Harold waited until Glenda had left the bed before getting up. He ed her in the kitchen as she searched the fridge for something to pack as a lunch. The pickings were slim since it had been a week since the last shopping trip. She found some not too dried out cheddar, an apple, a tomato and hard sesame roll. Harold didn’t bother taking lunch anymore. He preferred to forage among the eating spots on campus.

“A productive night at the lab,” he asked?

“Yeah, very much so. And you, win any money?”

“A buck fifty. We only play for two bits a game. Will you be home for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind eating a bit late.”

“Deal, I’ll pick up something on the way home.”

Glenda thought she better get back in with Tyler. She agreed to meet him as usual at his place after a day at the lab.

Hilary greeted her when she walked into the lab. “What’s up with you? You look like you’ve been dragged through a knothole backwards? Been burning the candle at both ends?”

“No, just not sleeping well these days. The Great One has been on my case a lot lately.”

“Speaking of the devil here’s a note he gave me for you after my meeting with him this morning.”

Hilary handed Glenda a terse message written on Holmes’ monogrammed notepaper, “Finally some decent results. No backsliding. I expect more of the same.”

Glenda read the message as more of a warning than a commendation. She spent the rest of the day with follow up work on her previous results but did take time for a thirty minute nap to be rested for what she knew would be an active interlude with Tyler.

Tyler looked on today’s assignation as a reconnection even though it had only been a few days since they were last together. He planned on a reenactment of their cream tea experience rather than the banana split fiasco. He cooked fresh scones and timed it so they came out of the oven warm.

He met Glenda as she came through the door with a long kiss and sensuous stroking of her body, ending with his hands running up under her shirt and over her breasts.

Glenda caught her breath and while she found it pleasing also thought it a bit of a rush. “Hold on. Don’t rush it. Let’s take our time.”

Glenda made appropriate congratulatory comments about Tyler’s efforts for the tea and commented on the warm scones and delicious strawberry jam. She even let Tyler spread the jam over the Devon cream dripping off the warm scones.

When the tea had been topped off with a glass of Krupnik, Glenda let Tyler lead her to the bedroom. The sex was expert and as always orgasmic but during the entire experience Glenda couldn’t get an image of Willy out of her head, with the occasional intervention from Harold. She had to concentrate to make sure she cried, “Oh Tyler” when the ecstasy of the orgasm soared through her.

Tyler wanted her to stay longer but she promised dinner with Harold. She begged off on the excuse that she had to be home with Harold to celebrate his mother’s birthday. She claimed it as a family tradition. Tyler had strong doubts but went along.

Tyler followed her down the stairs to her bike and watched her ride off. When she was out of sight he jumped on his bike and took a short cut he knew to Glenda’s place. He wanted to be sure she did go home. He arrived in time and at a safe distance to see her pull into the yard at the front of her building. With a sigh of relief he pedaled home along the Jericho Park beachfront.

Harold beat Glenda home. When she arrived he had the table set and had started to empty Styrofoam containers into serving dishes. He had stopped at a local deli and picked up a potato salad and a beet and broccoli salad to go along with stuffed pork loin he had warming in the oven. He also bought a baguette and

individual pumpkin pies from Terra Breads. In the middle of the table rested an open bottle of Australian Shiraz. To slake his own thirst he had a can of Granville Island lager.

He raised the can to Glenda and said, “Welcome home my love, care for one?”

Glenda nodded assent and Harold handed her a beer from the fridge. She sat down at the table and expressed her approval of the meal Harold had provided. She tried to keep the conversation light and focused on Harold’s day at work. He tried to turn the conversation to her work at the lab. She made all her replies positive and did her best to convince him she had her research on track.

Glenda thought the meal was over when she saw the last of the pork and salad but Harold surprised her with the pumpkin pies. She didn’t really want any because it went against her dietary promises but she smiled, said thank you and ate the pie. When she had finished she started to collect the dishes and place them in the sink.

Harold intervened, “Leave them. I’ll take care of it in the morning. I have something better to do.” He started to massage Glenda’s shoulders and neck and then reached in front to grasp her breasts. “Come on” and led her to the bedroom.

Glenda would have preferred washing the dishes, taking a shower, reading the paper and going to bed for sleep, not sex. But in her state of guilt she couldn’t say no. She let Harold take the lead and followed along with whatever he wanted from grasping, groping and oral satisfaction. She did her best to fake an orgasm and from Harold’s response it seemed to work. When it was all over she finally got her shower and fell asleep right after, Harold cuddled up behind her.

To her good fortune on Saturday morning Harold was out repairing a tire on his bike when first Willy phoned and soon after Tyler. Willy wanted to take Glenda on a picnic in Stanley Park but Glenda said she had committed to a home weekend with Harold. An insistent Willy wouldn’t give up until Glenda agreed to a picnic on Monday along Jericho Beach.

A disgruntled Tyler said it took him three tries before he didn’t get a busy tone. Glenda blamed it on Harold talking to his mother. Glenda feared what Tyler had in mind for the weekend. To her relief he said his mother had arrived unexpectedly and he had to spend the weekend with her but he would be available by Tuesday. When Glenda said she would be too he let out a yelp of joy.

With Willy and Tyler out of the way she actually looked forward to a weekend with Harold shopping and cleaning house as well as catch up on some the work she had brought home rather than hide in the lab.

Luckily Monday proved to be a warm and sunny day. October in Vancouver could just as easily have been slate gray and dripping. Not a nice time for the beach. Willy had proposed a luncheon picnic at a special spot. Glenda met her at the Kits pool, now closed for the winter.

Willy had arrived first and jumped up and down like a schoolgirl when she saw Glenda ride up on her bike. Oblivious to ers by she picked Glenda up in a bone crushing hug and ionate kiss. “God damn but I missed you. I thought of you every waking minute and in my sleep too, come to think of it.”

Glenda said, “It’s great to see you too.” It sounded like she meant it and she did.

Willy carried a wicker picnic hamper and took command, “Follow me.” She led Glenda in a march up the beach, past the pool to a secluded grassy spot behind several large rocks. A person would almost have to step on them to discover their hiding spot. Willy pointed out she had stumbled on the place in her homeless days while looking for a refuge to the night.

She pulled a ground sheet out of the hamper and spread it on the sand. They lay side by side rediscovering each other’s sensitive physical features. Willy finally rose on one elbow, “Time for a break and food. I have vegetarian and turkey sandwiches on whole grain and fruit salad with cherry yogurt to finish off. Also a bottle of Veuve Cliquot because a star like you deserves the real thing from .”

They split the sandwiches between them and Glenda enjoyed the fruit salad while they watched sail boats dance across the water and ired the beauty of the north shore mountains that had started to take on a white sheen. She called the champagne the pièce de résistance. Willy had never heard the term and Glenda had to explain it to her. Willy was duly impressed that Glenda knew and could use a foreign phrase.

When they emptied the champagne bottle Glenda said it was all very enjoyable but she had to get back to the lab.

“OK, when I’m finished with you,” Willy said.

She tipped Glenda on her back and pulled down the zipper on the front of her jeans so she could slip her hand inside and expertly massaged Glenda until she gasped from the thrill and surge that rocked her body.

“Oh my God you’re good at that,” Glenda said.

“You know why, it’s because I love you.”

“But, we’ve just barely met.”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know it seems like a rush so take your time. But I am in your life forever.”

Glenda rode slowly back to the lab wondering what she had in store for herself with Willy.

Tyler had wanted Glenda to spend the entire day with him but she had given him a firm no. She had to catch up with her work and classes. Her busy social life had left her perilously behind on all fronts. She had agreed to arrive an hour earlier than usual. He had promised something new which left her more in fear than anticipation of what his fertile imagination might concoct.

She rang the bell to announce her arrival and walked cautiously up the stairs. She peered around the door and found an empty room.

“Tyler, you home?”

Tyler appeared from the bedroom singing the English translation of La Vie en Rose. That was astonishment enough for Glenda but nothing compared to the outfit. Tyler appeared dressed as a French maid, complete with skimpy, frilly skirt, a black halter top that he had stuffed something inside to give him a prominent cleavage and tiny white doily cap perched on his head. He tottered forth on a pair of black spiked high heel shoes.

“I am here to serve you in the royal manner you deserve.”

He seated her on the sofa before the coffee table that held a platter of French canapés. It included warm toasts with toppings of foie gras, smoked salmon and cream cheese, caviar, Roquefort and goat cheese.

“I hope you like my little concoctions, I made them myself. And to wash them all down I have a bubbly surprise I’m sure you’ve never had before.” He then brandished two champagne flutes and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

Glenda immediately recognized the distinctive yellow label but didn’t have the heart to tell him this would be her second bottle in two days. She found the canapés an unfamiliar experience and not always to her liking. The caviar was too salty and the feel of the foie gras in her mouth hard to describe but not in a sense she liked. Despite it all she expressed great approval of Tyler’s culinary efforts.

He accepted the praise with a more modest acceptance than usual. He said they had one more course before moving on to the ultimate finale. He had warm, mini profiteroles covered in a hot chocolate sauce. This time when Glenda expressed approval she meant it.

Tyler stood up and held out his hand, “I will now go from being the royal server to the royal dresser, or more accurately undresser.”

Glenda took his hand and let him lead her to the bedroom and remove her clothes. She was becoming more inclined to understand some s she had read in the papers of women who come to prefer cuddling to sex. But she of course went along as expected and if asked would have itted to pleasurable results.

When they lay in bed, sharing a toke, Tyler pulled a small box from the drawer in the table on his side of the bed. He took out a diamond solitaire ring and held it out to Glenda. “, this ring is waiting for you to say yes.”

Startled speechless Glenda could only blurt, “I but not yet.”

“If not now one day and not too far into the future,” Tyler said. “You and I belong together. Harold is no fit for you.”

Glenda pushed her bike half way home, too distracted to feel comfortable riding. She knew she should have returned to the lab to finish her report and have it in Holmes hands first thing in the morning but she did not have the concentration for a task that required any thought. Never mind deciphering a confusing set of research results.

Holmes thundered into the lab as Glenda removed her coat.

“There you are. You brain dead hayseed. Whatever possessed me to think you had the mind and dedication of a world class scientist. All you’ve done since getting here is rob me of my precious grant money. My God I’ll have a strip off that cretin Higgins for selling me on such a useless piece of cow shit. Where is that report due on my desk this morning, already over a week late?”

Holmes’ anger emptied the lab quicker than a fire alarm and left a defenseless Glenda cowering alone.

“I’m sorry sir, I’ve had the flu and couldn’t concentrate. Now my husband has it and I’ve had to nurse him. I have the results and just have to put them into a presentable form. I’m sure you will like them. They confirm the predictions you made at the recent conference in Tokyo. Just give me a few days grace.”

I don’t give a ‘fiddlers’ about your excuses and especially not about your husband’s health. I want results and now. I’ll give you until Friday morning.”

“Couldn’t I have the weekend sir?” Glenda hated to grovel but felt she had no alternative. In the depths of her bowels she wanted to unleash one of her hiking boots on Holmes scrotum.

“No you can’t have the weekend, you whiner. , he who pays the piper calls the tune. I pay and you pipe. So get blowing. If I don’t have results to my liking by Friday you are out of here. Read my lips. Out of here. Got it.”

“Yes sir.”

Holmes spun on his heel and marched out of the lab twirling his blackthorn walking stick, ignoring the lab slaves pasted to the wall.

Tyler and Willy wanted to see Glenda the next day but she told them to leave her entirely alone because Holmes now stood first in her life. If she didn’t satisfy him her days in Vancouver were over.

Glenda worked night and day to meet Holmes’ deadline. Exhausted she dropped it off at Holmes’ office just before his secretary left. She made sure the secretary placed it in a prominent position on Holmes desk so he could not miss it Friday morning.

She dropped in to see Tyler on the way home. More to touch base than anything. She claimed work exhaustion to stay out of the bedroom. Tyler said maybe it is time she thought of finding a new lab. Holmes treatment of grad students clearly violated all principles of human rights. She said she would think of it but for now needed some sleep. In fact Willy had called earlier and wrung a promise of meeting her that night. Glenda had been busy putting the finishing touches on her report and agreed to get Willy off the phone so she could get back to work.

Glenda’s standoffish behavior made Tyler suspicious. He knew Harold went out on Thursday and wanted to be sure Glenda really had gone home. He waited what seemed like an appropriate time and followed Glenda to her place. He found a discreet spot across the street where he could watch the front door. Before long he saw Harold come out, climb on his bike and pedal off in the direction of the pub that Tyler knew he frequented for his pool and beer outing.

Tyler saw the apartment lights flash on and off and finally go out. Glenda emerged more fashionably dressed than when she left his place. She walked a short distance to a bus stop and hailed the first one that came by. Tyler

recognized it as a downtown bus and he guessed with a high degree of confidence that the Beaver Tail would be her destination. He caught a ing cab to be there on her arrival.

Tyler found a scruffy coffee shop with windows dirty enough for discretion but still adequate for surveillance. It gave him a safe view of the Beaver Tail entrance. He had just taken the first sip of coffee when he saw Glenda hurrying up the street and rush into the Beaver Tail.

Despite the risk of discovery Tyler had to see what happened on the inside. He snuck in through a rear entrance and found a dark corner that offered a view of the entire room. On the far side he could see Glenda and Willy snuggled together in a booth, Willy’s arm around Glenda and from the angle of her head he imagined her tongue in Glenda’s ear. “The bitch,” he blurted out and looked around in fear someone had heard him but he lived in the near dark in quiet isolation.

A short time later Willy and Glenda left arm in arm. The dark of the evening and the dim light of the haggard streets offered ample protection for Tyler to follow unseen. He watched them enter an aged building in Chinatown and then the lights go on in a second floor room. A moment later the bright overhead light went out to be replaced by a pale red glow.

Tyler read 9 p.m. on his watch. After what he guessed to be an eon he looked again and saw 9:02. His patience exhausted he ran up the stairs, threw open the door, fumbled for the light switch and flicked it on.

‘Fuck no,” is all he could get out before a naked Willy turned Tyler’s right eye black with a roundhouse right. On the bed an equally naked Glenda sat up, “Tyler.”

Willy moved in to wreck more damage. Tyler fell back toward the door. The menace of an enraged Willy replaced his fight with an overwhelming need of flight and he tumbled headlong down the stairs, two at a time, sobbing at each step.

“I’ll kill you next time you puny prick,” Willy shrieked after him.

Willy returned to a trembling Glenda, tears streaming down her face. Willy knew their night of amour had ended. Glenda only wanted to go home. Willy finally agreed if she could take her in a cab. Willy wanted to walk Glenda to the door but she insisted Willy stay in the cab. Glenda walked slowly to a dark house and without turning on a light she threw her clothes in a corner and curled up into a ball in bed.

Holding an ice pack over his closed eye, Tyler wrote a short anonymous note __ “Your wife is fucking another woman. Did you know?”

Harold found the note on his desk the next morning when he arrived at work. He couldn’t believe what he read. He might have believed an affair with a man, but a woman? It went beyond credibility. No one in the office had seen the messenger. A janitor mopping the hall solved the mystery. He gave a description that could only have been Tyler.

During a sleepless night Willy decided Tyler needed to be taught a stronger lesson to impress on him the danger of interfering in her relationship with Glenda. She searched through a drawer and found the switchblade she carried for protection during her time on the street.

With Tyler’s address in hand that she got from Hilary she stepped off the bus to see him walking up Cornwall in the direction of UBC. Rather than confront him immediately she decided to follow. He led her to Glenda’s lab.

From a distance Harold could see them both heading to the Biology building. He had been on his way to get an explanation from Glenda about the message he received that morning. He hurried to catch up and saw Willy enter the building close on Tyler’s heels.

Tyler ran along the hall to the lab, oblivious to Willy closing behind him. He burst into the lab. Glenda jumped behind her lab table for protection, searching for the nearest exit. Watching from the sidelines Hilary recognized the immediate danger that escalated the moment Willy entered the lab. With all of the combatants’ attention on each other and Glenda they didn’t see Hilary pick up the phone.

Marley burst through Gus’s office door and before he could bleat out a protest demanded he get over to the Biology building to prevent an imminent homicide. “And run, don’t stroll,” she urged.

It had been a long time since Gus had really run but he did break into as fast a version of a jog he thought he could manage and still arrive in a state of being effective. Marley had clearly impressed upon him the need for action and she was rarely given to hyperbole.

Willy threw back the lab door so hard it crashed into the wall, the doorknob puncturing a gaping hole in the drywall. Startled by the clatter Tyler spun around. “You!”

“Me!”

Tyler retreated behind the lab table opposite Glenda. Tyler knows he is overmatched. Willy is taller, heavier, stronger and much more skilled in marital arts. If she closes on him the damage will be ugly. But Tyler refuses to surrender. He launches into his strong suit and favorite weapon __ language. He spews forth a stream of invective of multisyllable words. All lost on Willy other than she knows they are meant to hurt and that is enough to kick her anger up another notch.

Willy moves to her own strength. Out comes the switchblade and as the books say, with a flick of the wrist her right arm becomes a source of mayhem and murder.

More by instinct than plan Tyler grabs a scalpel from the lab table. The two-inch blade of the scalpel shrinks to insignificance compared to the six-inch blade Willy brandishes. Willy advances on Tyler laughing as he waves his weapon of counterattack. Before she reaches Tyler, Harold jumps between them waving a chair over his head. Like a lion tamer he prods the chair at Willy who backs off. Tyler, who had already been in reverse hits the wall, loses his balance and crumples to the floor.

Harold’s arrival jolts Glenda into action and in a fit of rage advances from behind her lab table. “What the fucking hell are you bunch of deranged assholes doing. You disgust me.”

Tyler goes up on one knee and bleats, “I love you, marry me.”

Willy lashes a boot at Tyler but misses, “Forget that puny dickhead. Marry me.”

A bewildered Harold finally comes to, “She’s already married to me.”

A slightly out of breath Gus stumbles into the lab, recognizes Glenda and asks her. “OK, who do I put the cuffs on?”

Glenda waves her hand across the room, “All of them. The charge is being a gaggle of deranged assholes.”

Gus dismisses everyone in the lab except the major protagonists and lines them up against the wall. After a brief recounting from each he concludes, “It seems like a case of misplaced love gone bad. Give me the weapons and go stand in the corner you three,” pointing at Willy, Tyler and Harold. He pockets Willy’s blade, throws the scalpel on a table and puts his foot on the chair.

He motions for Glenda to stand beside him, “You want to lay charges against any of these would be criminals?”

“No, but I’d like to give them all a good spanking.”

“Glenda, I’ll give you a ride home. And the rest of you get out of here,”

Gus put a protective arm over Glenda’s shoulder to guide her out the door. But before leaving Glenda turned back to the lab and glowered, “From now on I’ll see who I want, when I want, if I want. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

Glenda accepted the ride home and turned down his offer to sit with her to be sure she was all right. She liked the offer but thought it would only complicate her life further.

She retired to her room for some serious substance abuse until she ed out. She couldn’t hear the ringing phone. Harold finally returned to take one of the calls. He tried to rouse Glenda but it was no use until she came around herself in the morning. When she seemed to be aware of her surroundings Harold told her about the call and that her father had taken sick.

Glenda turned on the answering machine to hear her mother’s voice, “Darling, your father has taken ill. We’re not sure what it is but he is in the University hospital in Saskatoon. I’m staying with my old classmate Doris Harding.”

Glenda called the phone number her mother had provided and got Doris Harding. She told Glenda her mother had left for the hospital and did she have a message. Glenda replied that she was on the way by the next plane. She quickly packed a bag and told Harold to get out the car and drive her to the airport immediately.

She had the cab drive directly to the hospital. Against her father’s Scottish nature Mother insisted he have a private room. Glenda found her mother seated beside her father holding his hand while he lay fast asleep.

Mother broke into a broad smile at Glenda’s arrival but held a finger to her lips for silence before crushing Glenda to her chest. She drew Glenda into the hall to a vantage point where they could still see the bed. Glenda said she had never seen her father in such a state. His usual ruddy complexion had been replaced by a sallow hue and his body looked a couple of sizes smaller.

Mother said he had not been feeling well for quite some time but as usual he treated any personal imperfection with denial. The tactic failed when he fell asleep in his chair after supper one night and couldn’t get up. Mother had rushed him to the Grande hospital but no specific cause could be identified. He had been transferred to Saskatoon and so far all tests continued to be inconclusive. He spent a good part of his time sleeping.

Glenda felt helpless watching the man she had always thought invincible lying in such a state. She wanted to hug him, to jump into bed beside him but that had never been their relationship. It had always been one of respectful distance. After all, he is the father, she the daughter.

Mother suggested they let him sleep while she and Glenda had lunch at the main floor cafeteria. Over a shared pizza Mother updated Glenda on events since her departure. She heard how Father’s initial anger had turned to resignation and then the ache of loss as he realized how much he missed her. He had so much wanted her to stay nearby and continue the family with the grandchildren he looked forward to as future heirs and a boy to carry on the family tradition. Mother said shortly before he fell ill he itted he had been too hard on her and selfish in putting his desires before her life goals.

Glenda wiped a tear from her cheek learning of her father’s transformation. “Maybe he was right all along,” she said. If I had accepted my lot and stayed here I would be much better off. Maybe it’s not too late to see if I can get a teaching position here.”

“No, you must carry on with your studies, that is your destiny,” Mother said.

When they returned they found Father sitting up in bed, a bowl of half finished soup on a bedside tray. The hint of a smile crossed his lips when he saw Glenda. Without a thought Glenda rushed up and hugged him. To everyone’s surprise he hugged back.

Glenda found a bible in the bedside drawer and read some of his favorite ages until his eyes started to droop. They left him to rest for the afternoon and returned after supper. The nurse told them he had eaten solid food for his supper and they saw some colour had returned to his cheeks. After a brief reading and family prayer for Father’s health they left for the evening.

The following morning when Glenda and her mother arrived they found the doctor and a much improved Father. The doctor said he had made great progress over the past twenty-four hours although they still couldn’t pinpoint the cause of his illness. The doctor finally said it must have been the tonic of Glenda’s arrival that produced the miraculous turn around. He thought Father had improved enough he could go home the next morning.

Glenda let out a whoop of joy and exchanged another hug with a smiling father. She promised to go with him on the trip home to the farm.

They found a very worried Doris Harding when they returned from the hospital. She said a very angry and miserable man in Vancouver had shouted at her over the phone. He called himself Holmes. Doris said when she tried to lighten up the situation by asking if his first name was Sherlock he slammed down the phone.

“What did he want and did he leave a message,” Glenda asked?

“No message other than tell that Miller woman if she wants to keep her position she better be in my office by tomorrow at the latest.”

“You better go dear, I’ll drive you to the airport,” Mother said.

“But I want to see Father home.”

“Work first, then come to see him.”

Glenda went directly from the airport to Holmes’ office with a mixture of fear and anger churning inside her. Fear of what Holmes might do and anger that she could not make the trip home with her ailing father. Fear won out from Holmes ultimatum.

“Miller, you have one week to show me results that guarantee my Nobel Prize. And if you do I’ll give you a footnote in the article I publish.”

She found Harold sitting at the kitchen table when she arrived home. He had finished all but one bottle of a six-pack of Granville Island lager. Glenda took care of the last bottle herself.

“Now what,” Harold asked?

“What do you mean now what?”

“.”

“I have no time for us. I only have time for me. Holmes has me on the ropes.”

Tears streaming down his face Harold pleads, “I can’t live without you and I won’t have you live with anyone else.”

He tottered forward, his arms stretched out. Glenda responded by pushing him back down in the chair.

She saw the red light flashing on the phone indicating messages. To her dismay two of them were from Tyler and Willy.

Willy apologized for her behavior in the lab and promised to do anything if Glenda would only come back. She had to have Glenda for herself and no one else.

Tyler’s message was almost the same of eternal love and only the two of them together.

Glenda couldn’t take it any longer and escaped to the lab where she was greeted by a cheerful Hilary. The cheer soon changed to dismay when Glenda told her of the mess she found herself in. Hilary said she had a second bed that Glenda could use to escape the grief of her home environment.

Nineteenth

Glenda had moved into Hilary’s bijou studio with a single change of clothes. Just two of jeans, sweatshirts, underwear and socks, a pair of boots and warm jacket. It was still a challenge for them both to squeeze in. And if Hilary had been Glenda’s size they might not have managed. A good thing Glenda ed at the last second to grab Harold’s sleeping bag. Even if they had wanted to, the two of them could not have fit into Hilary’s camp cot bed. And Hilary’s furniture did not include the luxury of a sofa. Glenda finally claimed a square of linoleum under the only window in the room. The remaining furniture included a wood table and two vinyl upholstered chairs, circa 1950s kitchen basic. Once upon a time Hilary had more commodious surroundings but that was before Holmes cut her research stipend. He said she was lucky to get anything, given her performance. He claimed she should pay him for lab space and the luxury of his vast font of knowledge.

Glenda had walked home with Hilary to get a break from the lab. They picked up a pizza and six pack of beer on the way. Glenda inhaled the first beer, which settled her nerves somewhat. She sipped the second in silence and chewed on the pizza slice with little interest and no noticeable taste.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Hilary asked?

“You’re squandering your money. They’re not worth so much.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I have to impress Holmes and quickly. I’m trying to give him a meaningful extension of his basic research finding that would ensure a Nobel Prize. I’ve made some progress but not enough. I seem to be up a dead end. Any suggestions?”

“Go back to the basics of the original work. I’m sure you’ll find something in that trove of files he stores in his private room at the lab.”

Glenda slipped a beer in her coat pocket, thanked Hilary for the tip and headed into the dark and drizzle of the night. She trudged up the hill to UBC shuffling through the sodden Arbutus leaves that still covered the pavement. Vancouver had now ed the November cusp from autumn to winter.

Glenda found the other lab slaves had long gone to warmer and more affable surroundings. She preferred it that way. In her current state of mind she found solitude more to her liking.

She knew the problem she needed to solve. A couple of holes had been found in Holmes’ famous research. Nothing that struck a death blow but enough to indicate a work still in progress. It was important that he, or one of his students fill that hole so he wouldn’t have to share the honours with anyone. Glenda had tried different lines of inquiry, some obvious, some daring but had not come up with a solution. So she accepted Hilary’s suggestion to go back to basics.

Since it was well known that Holmes never discarded anything he ever touched the room contained a number of large, black metal boxes. Holmes had segregated the files into work by students, colleagues, hated critics and his own in traditional puce folders. Among the latter she found those dedicated to his seminal research.

She had never read any of the original files but had always relied on reproductions published in the relevant scholarly work. She was easily distracted reading the original drafts, including some with Holmes’ scribbled corrections and additions in the margins. She was also intrigued by the actual cut and paste of piecing drafts together. A great many of the papers extended back to a period before computers were available to do the cut and paste. At that time the cut and paste required scissors and tape. What else stood out for her was the difference between the early research and Holmes recent work for which he had become famous. In fact it might even be described as diametrically opposed.

Among the file boxes she found one labeled Vasek Gregori. She thought she had heard of all of Holmes former and current students but he was a new one. It contained a few papers with ‘Promising’ written on them in Holmes easily recognizable scrawl. To Glenda’s surprise the file ran out at a date of the publication of Holmes’ original paper. Glenda spent the rest of the night making notes from the files and writing suggestions from her review. Finally exhausted she fell asleep in her chair.

She woke the next morning about the same time as the SUB restaurants opened. A Mexican style fast food outlet offered an egg and sausage burrito that did for breakfast. For further sustenance Glenda picked up two large lattes for herself and Hilary. She had guessed right. Hilary had just started setting up her table ready for the day’s work and greatly appreciated the cup of strong, sweet, milky coffee.

“Any breakthrough moments last night,” she asked?

“A few thoughts to try. I came across a new name, Vasek Gregori. I thought I had been told about all the students who had graced the presence of the Great One. Did you know him?”

“Only by reputation. He was before my time with Holmes at Columbia. He created a legend that has outlived him. He and Holmes had a stormy relationship. They would get into shouting matches with Holmes often threatening to drop Greg, as he liked to be called. Holmes never did. No other grad student ever stood up to Holmes like that. Greg, must have had something Holmes wanted for him to tolerate that kind of dissent. Of course it was always said that Greg believed he was much smarter than Holmes.”

“Where is he now,” Glenda asked.

“Dead. He liked to do everything flat out, including driving. He had an old Austin Healy that that he loved to test himself with roaring around a race track. The story has it that he drove the same way on public roads. He had been driving to Washington D.C. to present a paper at a major international conference when he spun out crossing a bridge and hit a buttress. He died on impact.

Ever the hero, Holmes had no trouble filling the breach as he said. He claimed the ideas and research results as his anyway. He said Greg had made a relevant but minor contribution carrying out some of the research under Holmes’s direction. The original ideas and research Holmes claimed as his alone. Holmes had agreed to let Greg present the paper to help raise his profile and improve his prospects in finding a position at a prestigious eastern university.

Holmes already had an international reputation but not quite as leader of the pack. The results of the paper were considered paradigm shattering and defined a new line of research with important implications for medical science. The success of further research by Holmes, his students and others started a buzz that if it continued to work out, a Nobel Prize could be in the offing.

When Glenda surfaced to go out for lunch she stumbled on Willy sitting on a post cleaning her fingernails. When she saw Glenda step out of the Biology Building, Willy jumped to her feet and ran to the bottom of the stairs. Glenda spied Willy too late to escape. She jammed her hands in her coat pockets, hunched her shoulders and walked up to Willy. In an attempt at neutrality, Glenda managed, “Hi, what a surprise.”

Willy had no intention of responding in kind. Instead she seized Glenda in her usual rib cracking bear hug lifted her up and exclaimed, “I can’t live without you. Come home now.” She seized Glenda’s wrist and tried to drag her away.

Glenda dug in her heels, struggled free and in an attempt to flee tripped on the post that had been Willy’s perch.

Willy stood over the fallen Glenda like the Colossus at Rhodes and proclaimed loud enough for all bystanders to hear, “You belong to me.”

What seemed out of nowhere like some masked avenger, except he had no mask, Harold appeared. He had his office nearby and had set out in hope of finding Glenda lunching in SUB.

When Harold saw Willy standing over Glenda he reacted without thinking because if he had he might not have behaved so impetuously. He rushed at Willy who did not see Harold approaching so he had the advantage of surprise when he pushed Willy away from the prone Glenda. With the menace of Willy removed Glenda struggled to her feet.

A protective Harold tried to put an arm around her but Glenda wanted none of it.

The rebuffed Harold, as he had before bleated, “You’re my wife. You swore until death do we part. Keep your promise.”

A terrified Glenda rushed back inside her building almost knocking over a silent but fully observant Hilary.

Hilary and Glenda returned home to find a sodden Tyler sitting on the step, an empty bottle of vodka at his side. He reached out to Glenda and got up to one knee before he fell back and cracked his head on a planter producing a yelp, “Shit that hurt.”

Glenda helped Tyler to his feet and was rewarded with him draping himself over her and blubbering incoherently, love being the only identifiable word.

Hilary peeled Glenda off Tyler and pushed her gently toward the door. She then turned to Tyler, “To think you’re my cousin, piss off out of here.”

The last words heard as she followed Glenda through the door were, “Homicide or suicide.”

The first item for Hilary the next morning was a visit to campus security. She described the previous day’s events to Gus and ended the story with an emphatic plea, “Someone has to end this stalking.”

Gus knew he had no jurisdiction for intervention beyond the UBC campus but the finer points of legal niceties hadn’t always been a roadblock to do what he

saw as necessary and appropriate action. Such a periodic lapse of judgment is of course what brought his career in the RCMP to an early end.

It didn’t stop him from a personal visit to Willy at the Beaver Tail, Harold at his Help desk and Tyler at home. He hoped to put if not the fear of God at least the fear of Gus Fraser in each one. He pointed out he had a gun and still ed from his RCMP days how to use it. And if any of them came within shouting distance of Glenda he just might do that.

Glenda had become obsessed with Greg after Hilary’s story and needed to learn more about who he was and the line of research he had developed. She went back to the lab and searched among the files and found nothing. Exasperated and exhausted she made one last tour of the black boxes and in a back corner found not another black box but a safe. Taped across the top she read, Vasek Gregori.

Typical of Holmes it was simple and cheap. Glenda thought she could probably break in but decided to try a guess. She knew Holmes birthday and followed that to spin the dial. She chuckled to herself when it worked so easily. As she opened the door she also saw the combination taped to the back of the safe.

All of the files were labeled Vasek Gregori. She took them back to her table, put them in chronological order and worked her way through the pile. She gasped in astonishment, and then as she read more she began to chortle and by the time she finished the last one broke into hysterical laughter.

When she finished she carefully removed selected documents and made two copies of each and slipped them into manila envelopes. She wrote her name and the words Top Confidential on one. On the second she wrote Holmes name and Eyes Only. It would go under Holmes office door on her way back to Hilary’s. She wore a fierce grin the whole time.

Twentieth

H ilary looked forward to a quiet home night after a day at the lab of almost success. She nudged open the door of her teeny apartment, spun her wooly hat onto the bed and stopped in mid-Hello when she saw Glenda with her back to her speaking into the phone.

“OK, meet you tonight. Yeah, should be quiet by then. Just you and me. You know how I want it to go.”

Glenda turned to see Hilary. “Hi, didn’t hear you come in.”

“Where you off to?”

“Not far, shouldn’t be long.”

“Seeing anyone I know?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Can’t say right now.”

“At least have fun.”

Hilary turned in early for a sound sleep. The next morning she noted Glenda’s unrumpled bed.

Out loud she mused, “Where did you sleep last night and who with?”

Hilary knew she was the first to arrive at the lab because the door was still locked. She fumbled through her knapsack for the lab keys, unlocked the door and groped along the doorjamb for the light switch. She threw her coat over a chair and walked around the first lab table toward her’s in the far corner. Something crunched as she stepped forward, looking down she recognized a pair of owlish glasses. Glenda’s! Another step forward and she almost stumbled over a prone Glenda, face down on the floor, an ugly red gash in the back of her head.

“Glenda!”

Glenda could not answer.

“Gus”, jumped to her lips as she reached for the phone.

Gus arrived red faced and panting. He told Hilary to lock off the lab and let no one in. Gus ached to lead the investigation but he knew it was beyond the

jurisdiction of the head of campus security, even if he was completely convinced he was the best man to do the job. With great reluctance he called the homicide desk at the Vancouver police headquarters on Main Street. He introduced himself to the inspector in charge and left his phone number but he knew they would take over the investigation completely.

Gus would let them get on with it. He had his own lines of inquiry to pursue. If they proved successful he would share them with the police at a time of his choosing.

Tyler came first on the list. He found Tyler at home in bed. Gus’s incessant banging on the door finally brought forth a sleepy Tyler in old grey sweats and a once white tee shirt.

“What the fuck you doing here? You woke me up.”

“I have a few questions for you.”

“Why should I answer any of your questions?”

Gus grabbed Tyler by the tie string that hung down the front of his sweats and yanked up, hard.

“Yow, that hurt, you could do a guy real damage like that.”

Gus pushed Tyler onto the sofa and nose to nose demanded, “Answer my questions and save yourself the grief.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you if I like your answers.”

Gus quizzed Tyler on where he had been last night. Tyler claimed that of late his nights had been sleepless and he spent time walking alone outside his apartment along Jericho Beach. He had seen some other people during the night but they all looked scary to him and he stayed far away from them.

Gus finally ran out of questions and Tyler reminded him of his promise to reveal the reason for the inquisition.

He gave Tyler a brief description of Glenda’s body being found at the lab and the police were investigating. He also reminded Tyler of his one time proclamation of suicide or homicide.

Tyler’s first reaction was total disbelief and he then collapsed into a body of wracking sobs. When he could at last catch his breath he said he could never hurt Glenda. He had been more in a suicidal state of late. If anyone could have hurt Glenda he was certain it would be Willy. She had the strength and demeanor. Although who could say about Harold. She meant the world to him and who knows what he might do at the thought of losing her. If he can’t have her no one else can.

Gus planned to see Willy next but since he knew he ed Harold on the way he stopped there first. A firm knock on the door brought no response but an unlocked door made for easy entry. He found Harold ed out on the sofa, an empty bottle of scotch on the floor beside him. He looked like he might have been there for several days. Gus shook Harold awake and after a few moments Harold sat up and became almost communicative.

Gus asked where Harold had been last night and was told he had been home by himself just like the last several days. He had seen no one in that time. When Gus asked if he had been near Glenda’s lab last night he replied in the negative. Harold asked why all the quizzing and Gus finally had to tell him about Glenda’s death. Harold’s response was to dig out another bottle of scotch and take a long pull before he sobbed, “My life is over. I’ll get that Willy, it had to be her.”

Gus didn’t want to drive and have to park his car in the same neighbourhood as the Beaver Tail so he took the bus. The Beaver Tail was just opening for the day when he arrived. Mavis, the owner and chief bartender was a massive woman, over six feet tall and close to three hundred pounds with hair the color of cooked carrots. Gus asked if she knew the whereabouts of Willy. She said Willy had missed her last two shifts and when she phoned got no answer.

Tyler had willingly given Gus, Willy’s address in Chinatown. He easily found the building and slowly climbed the stairs to the apartment. This time he didn’t try knocking but quietly pushed open the door. The kitchen was littered with Chinese take out boxes and the smell of marijuana masked the garbage odor. He continued into the next room to find a prone and naked Willy spread face down across the bed. He noticed a syringe on the floor and a bent spoon on a side table beside an open switch blade knife.

It took some time but he finally got Willy awake enough to talk. She claimed she had no idea of the last couple of days. It was all black. She swore strongly that she didn’t and couldn’t hurt Glenda. Gus told her Tyler and Harold considered

her the prime suspect. She swore again and said that was enough to convince her it was one of them, or maybe they had colluded and acted together.

Gus returned to his office to contemplate if it was late enough in the day and the situation dire enough for him to release the bottle of Oban resting in his bottom desk drawer. He had just started to reach down when his stretch was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come,” he said before looking up.

When he reappeared from under his desk he found Hilary standing before him holding an envelope.

“I found this today. I thought it might be important. My first idea was the police but I have more confidence in you.”

She handed Gus a thick brown envelope and on it he read, ‘Glenda Millar, Top Confidential’.

Gus shook out the contents of the envelope. He saw it contained a range of correspondence between Charles Holmes and someone by the name of Vasek Gregori, although he signed his letters, Greg.

“Please sit down,” Gus said. “I’ll need someone to help me interpret some of the technical details in here.”

Gus and Hilary sat side by side so they could read along together. What they found was an exchange between the great professor Charles Holmes and his former post-doctoral student, Vasek Gregori.

The exchange started out congenially with Holmes welcoming Gregori to his lab and how he looked forward to a long and profitable relationship. Holmes also agreed to call him Greg but said he still expected to be referred to as Professor Holmes.

The research relationship proceeded in a favorable and friendly fashion for several months until Greg started to produce research results that didn’t quite fit the theory that had fashioned Holmes career and reputation.

At first Holmes comments on the results were mostly benign and indulgent. He ed them off as Greg’s youthful naiveté and once he fully understood the theory and proper lab procedures that would produce the results Holmes expected, all would be well.

As Gus and Hilary proceeded through the correspondence it became apparent that Greg not only didn’t catch on to the theory and lab procedures he became an active and increasingly frequent critic. Holmes did not take to the criticism with a positive response. Far from it, he became down right vitriolic.

Greg had never backed down from a bully in his life, whether in the schoolyard growing up or later in the life of intellectual exchange. His preferred form of response was a direct frontal assault.

When it became abundantly clear to Holmes that Greg was not about to fall into

line he abandoned any form of scientific or intellectual argument and resorted to outright threats.

He started with removing lab privileges and soon moved to an ultimatum of ending any form of financial and kicking him out of the lab and the university if he didn’t toe the party line. Plus, he would use his government s to revoke Greg’s visa and have him deported back to Belarus.

Greg went on the counterattack and responded with threats of his own. He said he now had the results he needed to prove beyond any doubt that Holmes’s theory was wrong and quite likely his lab procedures in error so badly he had to manufacture his past results.

Greg couldn’t leave it with the threat and had to twist the blade and said Holmes would receive a copy of the paper he would present at the conference in Washington that would make his reputation and send Holmes to the dustbin of science.

The final document in the envelope was a copy of the now famous paper with Greg’s name blacked out and Holmes’ written in.

“Does this mean Holmes stole the ideas and results,” Gus asked?

“I can only declare him guilty as charged,” Hilary said.

“Where is Greg now,” Gus asked?

He died in a car accident. Holmes presented the paper as his own. When it was published he did recognize Greg in a small note as someone who had made a minor contribution. Holmes made a big splash by itting he had been wrong in the past and had now found the path to the top of the scientific mount. There have been some minor challenges to the original results but for the most part they have been robust. The research has been replicated several times and always positively.

Gus thanked Hilary, returned the contents of the file to the envelope, put it under his arm and with his face set in grim determination set off in search of Holmes.

He swung open the door to Holmes office and dropped the envelope on the secretary’s desk. She took a long pause before looking up.

“I’m here to see the Great Man”.

“Sorry, he’s not seeing anyone today.”

Gus could smell pipe tobacco smoke in the adjacent office, contrary to the campus non-smoking policy. Gus decided to ignore the secretary as Holmes had ignored the policy.

He knocked loudly and stamped into the office to confront a shocked Holmes. Without invitation Gus pulled up a chair and sat down. He showed Holmes the contents of the file.

Holmes quickly recovered and reassumed his usual air of condescension. When Gus had finished his interrogation, Holmes pushed back his chair and said, “Now let me tell you the real story as experienced by me.”

“Yes, Greg and I had some conflict in our relation but we resolved it shortly before the Washington conference. Greg was a volatile young man on the make for his own fame and fortune. He wanted all the credit for the research when in fact it was based entirely on suggestions and direction that I gave to him orally. I didn’t keep such detailed records as Greg. I had agreed to let him present the conference paper to help his job prospects but his unfortunate ing prevented that. I could do nothing more than present the paper myself. The final published paper acknowledges Greg in a footnote at the end that amply recognizes his contribution. itting some of my original ideas were in error was the right and honest thing to do as a scientist. All subsequent research has proved me right.”

Not having an immediate response Gus fell back on a police question, “Just for the record, where were you last night?”

“Home with my wife.”

“She’ll vouch for that?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll let myself out.”

Gus decided to return to the lab for another look. He walked by the parkade near the lab and noticed the recently installed security camera. He detoured into the parking office and asked to see the tape from the previous evening. Shortly after he started the tape he saw Holmes appear leaving the parkade swinging a stout blackthorn walking stick. Later in the tape Holmes returned without the stick and appeared to be hurrying much faster than on his arrival.

Gus shut down the tape and returned to the lab. He ignored the police yellow tape and let himself into the lab. He began a meticulous search of every nook and cranny in the lab. He had his search rewarded when he shone his light under the sofa in the coffee room. He pulled out a blackthorn walking stick with what looked like blood on the handle and the initials C.H. just below.

Next step, visit Hilary for something personal that belonged to Glenda. They finally settled on a toothbrush that still rested in a glass in the bathroom. A visit to a friend in the medical faculty for a DNA test confirmed that the stick had been used to crush Glenda’s brain.

Holmes called his in the police who was less than happy at Gus taking independent action. They ignored Holmes secretary and pushed their way into Holmes office. At first Holmes smiled and said, “Ah, my treasured blackthorn stick. Where did you find it?”

“I think you know. And we have a confirmed DNA test that it was used in her murder.”

At first Holmes slumped forward, head in his hands. But true to nature he quickly recovered.

“It was all her fault. She attacked me. She was a strong young woman. Too strong for me. She accused me of being unfair to her and then relied on lies about Greg that she would use to discredit me and destroy my reputation. I had no real intention to hurt her, just keep her distance. In a moment of panic I must have swung the stick at her. I don’t really . When she fell I took the opportunity to escape. I had no idea what happened to my stick. When I learned of her death I made the mistake of denial. I should not have and recognize my mistake. I’ll do anything to make amends.

The police officer took out his handcuffs, told Holmes he was under arrest and read him his rights.

“You can’t arrest me. I’m a famous scientist. On the list for a Nobel Prize. I have so much more work to do for mankind.”

“Tell the judge. And you Mr. Fraser may have to do some telling too.”

Twenty-first

G lenda’s final good-bye was held overlooking the slough where she had started her scientific quest collecting tadpoles for her own investigations. A light covering of snow had settled on the ice in the slough but a bright sun from a cloudless sky added cheer to the day. Mother and Father held a box containing Glenda’s ashes. In turn Harold, Tyler, Willy, Hilary and Gus each took a handful of ashes from the box and scattered them over the slough. Mother and Father took the final turn.

As each one scattered the ashes they sang out:

TOO SOON GONE

AMEN