I looked at her, at the features of her plain face that were so beautiful to me now. I knew that SOMETHING needed to be said. She looked back at me, probably thinking the same, probably wondering what was going to come out of my mouth, probably wondering if she'd made a mistake in giving me a second chance. What had brought us together in the first place? What had made us love each other before? Could that be recaptured?
"What was the book?" I finally asked, speaking softly.
She continued to stare at me for a moment, her face taking on the expression of one that doesn't believe she's heard correctly. "The book?" She asked.
I nodded. "You said you read a book you were dying to discuss. What was the book?"
Her face warmed almost inperceptively and I knew I'd said exactly the right thing.
"It was called 'The Cider House Rules'." She said.
"By John Irving." I nodded, thanking whatever gods there may be that it was a book I was familiar with. This was not entirely a coincidence. Nina and I, we'd discovered earlier in our relationship, shared the same tastes in literature.
"You've read it?"
"Yes I have." I nodded. "A very astute analysis on the issue of abortion. Very good book, one of Irving's best I think. I particularly liked how well the characterization was done."
She sat up straighter. "So did I. My favorite character was Candy. I really liked the way she…"
We discussed the book together, hitting upon our favorite parts and characters and then opinionating on what the meaning of the story was. This then led to a discussion about abortion in general. Though we were talking together as we used to it was clear to both of us that there was a strain that had never existed before. Nina was very guarded, her smiles not as broad or genuine as they'd once been. It was as if she did not want to enjoy our conversation, did not want to allow herself to get too close to me too quickly.
By the end of the lunch period it was plain what the rules were going to be.
We would be moving slow and I was going to have to regain the trust I had lost. It wasn't going to be awarded to me by default. Those were my terms, firm though unspoken, and I was going to have to accept them.
I had put considerable thought into the problem of Anita. Though I had ended my relationship with her and though my second talk with her seemed to have brought this fact home to her, I still felt a considerable amount of guilt. Things were not right with Anita. She had been pulled from her destiny because of me. And because she had been pulled from her destiny, her children had been pulled from theirs. They were growing up without a father figure in the house, something they were not meant to do. The ramifications of this could only be guessed at. Maybe there would be no change in their future. But maybe there would be a catastrophic one. Anita, for many reasons, needed to be steered back to her destiny. The responsibility for doing this was mine alone.
My talk with Tracy and the run of my own thoughts convinced me that putting Anita back on her track was not only possible but should be reasonably easy at this point in time. Fate was, for once, on my side, my ally in this endeavor. All she needed, I theorized, was a little nudge. But the more time that went by, the harder that nudge would have to be. Since I was under a doctor's orders not to return to either ROP or my normal job, I took it upon myself to fill this idle time giving that nudge. Her and her intended needed to be put together. The question was how to do it?
I knew from my long relationship with her that Anita was a real estate agent specializing in single-family houses in the North Spokane area. Though I had never been there, I knew where she worked. I also knew that Jack Valentine, her destined husband, worked at the same office. What I did not know was what Jack Valentine DID at that office and I only had the vaguest impression of what he looked like. My only memory of his features came from my previous life. I needed to gather some information.
Being free from ROP after my first lunch with Nina, I climbed into my car and drove to North Spokane, parking three blocks down from Anita's office. It was located on a major street that fed to the freeway system. The street was lined with gas stations, mini-marts, and strip malls. The office itself was located between a dentist's office and a pizza parlor. A light snow was falling as I entered the side parking lot of the complex, moving with all the caution of an infantry soldier in enemy territory.
I had purposely dressed warmly and was fully prepared to wait in the parking lot until she went out on a showing of some suburban house. I was aware that it might take several days of observation before such an event happened. After all, winter was not the prime time for real estate sales. But, to my surprise and delight, my luck was in. Anita's car was nowhere to be seen after three circuits of the parking lot.
Gambling that she would not return in the short time that I needed to be in there, I walked quickly to the door of the office and stepped inside, blessing the orgasmic warmth that rushed over me from the building's heater.
There was a waiting area with several chairs and the inevitable outdated magazines. These faced a receptionist's desk where a pretty young woman was typing with machine-gun bursts. Behind her were ten or so desks, about half of which were occupied. One of the occupants I recognized as Jack Valentine, the only male present in the room beside myself. None of the desk workers paid me any attention as I entered but the receptionist gave me a suspicious look.
"Can I help you?" She asked, her voice not nearly as friendly as it would have been had an adult walked in. She probably figured I was going to ask to use the bathroom or something.
"Yes Ma'am." I said shyly. "My Dad asked me if I would stop by here and pick up something called a…" I paused as if trying to recall information, "A listing paper?"
"You mean a listing sheet?" She corrected, becoming instantly more friendly.
"Yes." I nodded. "That's it."
"Did your Dad tell you what range he wanted that for?" She asked patiently.
"Oh," I said, shaking my head as if disgusted with myself for not remembering. "I'm sorry. Seventy-five to eighty-five thousand."
"Why sure." She said, brightening even more when she heard that. She stood up and headed over to one of the desk people.
I took a moment to admire her legs, which were truly magnificent encased in dark nylons as they were. I then cast a nervous look outside, making sure Anita hadn't pulled up and was heading in. I could only imagine what would happen if she found me in there.
It took a minute but the receptionist returned with a sheaf of copied computer print-outs upon which all of the current houses for sale in the price range I'd specified, the upper end for that time period in that city, were listed. The existence of such a document was not something the average sixteen year-old would have known about since most sixteen year-olds have not purchased a house in their past.
"Here you go young man." She told me, smiling professionally.
"Thank you." I said, taking the papers and returning the smile. "And he also asked if I could have one of your brochures too?"
She picked one up from a stack on her desk. It was a full color pamphlet that listed the real estate agents employed by that office, their mission statement, and phone numbers. She handed it to me. "One brochure." She said. "Anything else?"
"That should do it Ma'am." I told her. "Thank you."
A moment later I was out the door. Five minutes after that I was sitting in my car, letting the heater run while I looked at the paperwork I'd acquired.
According to the brochure, Jack Valentine was indeed another agent, not a supervisor or a lawyer or something else, as I'd feared. Perfect. He was one of four males in an office staffed by eighteen.