Date: Thu, 11 Mar 2010 04:06:13 -0800 (PST)
From: Peder Pederson <pederdagreat@yahoo.com>
Subject: "A Visit to Remember" Chapter 3

Chapter Three
The past June--

	Having deposited the coins in the toll-collector's hand, Bill swung
his small car out of the airport parking lot. Tom sat comfortably in the
passenger seat, taking in the new visual stimuli. It had been just over a
year since they had received their Master's. Tom had accepted a position in
Indianapolis as a research chemist with a small pharmaceutical company and
Bill as a chemist with a food processing concern in Minneapolis. They had
seen each other a couple of times since their graduation, called frequently
and written each other hardly ever. The phone was more convenient..
	The roar of breaking jets was heard as they entered the sparse
freeway traffic. Bill concentrated on accelerating and merging his car with
the other speeding vehicles.
	"You've put on some weight," Tom observed as a matter of fact.
	"Yeah, a little," glancing over at Tom, "so have you, it seems. Ya
look good."
	"Thanks, so do you."
	They sped out of the industrialized area into the gently rolling
countryside. "Pretty here, kinda reminds me of Indianapolis, the
countryside, I mean."
	"Yeah, all this corn," and then with a twinkle, Bill added, "and
all the corn-fed girls."
	With a smirk," You're not supposed to be looking now. Remember?"
	"Hell, I can always look!"
	"I see. . . lookee, no touchee, eh?"
	Bill answered with a snort, "You got it."
	They continued to speed along I-35 towards Ames. "Bill, you really
look good. . . happy."
	"Yeah, I am, but a little stressed out with all the planning and
stuff."
	"Hell, that's what weddings are for, ya know."
	"Yeah." His mind's eye brought forth Karen's image and a smile to
his lips. " What about you and Janice. . . set a date yet?"
	"No . . . we decided to go our separate ways," came the answer, in
monotone.
	"What! When did this happen?" The news was a shock to Bill.
	"'Bout a month ago," Tom answered, again, almost emotionless.
	"What the fuck! . . . How come you didn't tell me?" Bill asked,
trying to mask the hurt of not being taken into his friends confidence
before this.
	"I don't know. . . I couldn't . . . it wasn't easy. . .wasn't easy
for me to deal with at the time." There were edges of pain in his voice.
	"Yeah, I can imagine, but. . . whose decision was it?"
	"Mutual. . . both of ours. Ya know, we'd had our ups and downs over
the years. I don't know . . . things began to get in the way. . . It just
seemed better."
	"Christ!" Shaking his head in disbelief, then, "How long had you
been goin together? Seven or eight years?"
	"Yeah."
	"Is it permanent?"
	"Yeah, I think so."
	"Do you still talk to her?"
	"Not really, it's too soon yet. . . we're not enemies though."
	"Jeeze, Tom, I'm sorry, I really am."
	"Thanks."
	Miles flashed by as they drove on in silence. Tom was thankful for
the respite, even though he felt that the separation was the best thing,
his wounds were a little raw, but not like at first.
	Bill, still a bit hurt at not being told before, felt sorrow for
his friend. "He's too great a guy for this to happen," he thought. Then, in
a flimsy attempt to change the subject and not knowing what else to say, he
asked, "Still planning on applying for your Ph.D.?"
	Roused out of his reverie, he glanced over at Bill and with the
edge out of his voice, "I've been filling out some applications, but work
and all have kept me busy. I'm in no hurry yet. . . we'll see."
	"Well, you won't have any problem."
	"What are you? My personal cheer-leader?" he asked with a broad
smile.
	Chuckling, Bill answered, "Someone's got to look after
you. . . your nose's in the books all the time."
	"Not all the time," came Tom's retort, with arched eyebrows.
	"Shit."
	They both laughed.
	"Where are we staying?" Tom asked.
	"A motel in Ames, Jordon's too small, just a village. Karen's
relatives're staying with friends there. My family's staying at the
motel. Think we've got twelve rooms. You and I'll share a room."
	"Only if you behave yourself," Tom stated with exaggerated
seriousness.
	"Christ!" laughed Bill.
	"Yes?" It was a liturgy.
	Laughing came the antiphonal reply, "I didn't know you were black?"
	This had been a verbal ritual between them, whenever Bill 'took
God's name in vain,' which Tom felt was too often. The end, Tom's final
phrase, always differed, "Jealous?"
	They both laughed.
	"Are you having a bachelor party?"
	"No, I think they're for the birds."
	"I can't believe it, you're finally getting some culture!" Tom
said, grinning.
	"Get of my ass, will ya!" Bill snorted, good naturedly.
	"I wasn't aware I was on it," retorted Tom with a laugh. Tom and
Bill had always carried on this good humored repartee. It was one of the
ways that they expressed their closeness, their 'guarded-friendship,' their
affection for each other.
	"Enough! I give up," laughed Bill. He reached over and grabbed
Tom's knee in a strong vice-like grip. Bill knew that his knee was Tom's
most ticklish spot.
	 His action caused a violent physical reaction and a howling
"Aieee. . . . Ass-hole!" in mock anger came after the release.
	"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Mama wouldn't like to hear her little Tommy say
such words."
	"Okay, truce." came his good humored reply.
	The rest of the drive was consumed in the easy patter of things
past and the activities of the next couple of days.

	Karen and Bill had been dating for five-and-a-half years. After
graduation, Karen got a job in Madison, not just to be near Bill, but it
was her best offer--actually a good position. Besides, Bill had decided to
go right on for his Master's, as did Tom. Bill and Tom decided to get an
apartment together. Four years of dorm life was all they could stand. Their
maturity--they felt--demanded a more exalted digs. Besides, Bill and Karen
had decided not to get an apartment together for a couple of reasons. Both
knew that their parents would not absolutely object, but mildly disapprove,
and they loved and respected them too much--besides they felt that if they
did live under the same roof they'd never leave their bed or their
embrace. Bill's Master's regimen promised to be rigorous--demanding large
blocks of time. Yet, they found ample means and time to express their
passion throughout those two years, plenty of times.

	Tom was not surprised when Bill had first told him that he and
Karen were to be married. He had expected it. As a matter of fact, he would
have been surprised had they not married. They seem suited to each other,
right together. Each, mutually complemented the other.
	He had remembered how Bill acted, maybe changed--that wasn't the
right word either--no, became complete after those first few dates with
Karen. Oh, there were the usual disagreements, mis-communications,
misunderstandings--that was only natural. Nonetheless, they matched, they
were a match.
	Tom had remembered the great times they had had in their
apartment. Those dinners--Bill, Karen, Janice and himself--were light, joy
filled. Except, that Thanksgiving when he (the turkey-cooker) had set the
oven temp too high, and during an involved discussion of his research
project with Bill, forgot the time until the four of them smelled the
burning turkey-flesh.
	He was happy for Bill when he had called and announced the
engagement. He was even more pleased when Bill had asked him to be his
best-man. Oh, he would be in the wedding, all right, he thought. Their
six-year-as-roommates-friendship, 'guarded-friendship' seemed to insure
that. However, Tom had assumed that Bill's cousin Roger would be the
best-man. They were close, but Bill had chosen Tom. So, he was pleased,
happy when Bill asked. And Bill was happy.

 	The next evening was the rehearsal dinner. Bill's folks had
arranged a great dinner party at one of Ames' best restaurants. Bill had
slept late that morning--he was exhausted. That was to be expected.
	All the last minute details had to be settled that day. Tom had
brought his rented tux--which fit remarkably well, emphasizing his height
and build--from one of the national chains in Indy, so that was no
problem. But there seemed to be scores of other things to do. So, he helped
Bill, as the latter happily and a little dazed, floated through the day's
activity. Tom was Bill's rock.
	At the restaurant, Bill, Karen and their parents along with Tom and
Anne, Karen's maid-of-honor, sat at on of the six tables-for-eight. Tom and
Anne sat opposite Bill and Karen, Bill's parents to his left and Karen's to
Anne's right. The dinner was perfect.
	Karen and Bill seemed relaxed--a handsome couple. The old truism
applied--Karen was radiant. And, Bill? Tom had never seen him look
better. He had to admit, simply, "He's a handsome man." He smiled warmly
across the table at them both, Karen and Bill returned the smiled
compliment.
	The families decided that there would be no cocktails since most of
Karen's family had to drive back to Jordan that night, but wine was
served. After dinner toasts were made by Bill's father, then Karen's. Bill
had informed Tom, on the drive from the airport, that he would be expected
to make a toast. He tried to jot down a few things to say, scraped them,
jotted some more and scraped them. "Heck," he thought, "I'll wing it, make
it short."
	It was his turn. He stood up with glass in hand, took a deep
cleansing breath, smiled at the couple, his friends, and started, "First,
you'll have to excuse me, I'm not a public speaker. But, I have know Bill
Dweyer for seven years and Karen for five-and-a-half years. . . It would be
easy, even humorous to say that Bill doesn't deserve Karen, but that's not
true."
	 He paused, "I've got to control myself," and then continued, "I
have watched them through the five-and-a-half years that they have dated
and have been privileged. . .honored to observe their love blossom and
grow. I can say. . . I can say with all the conviction I have. . ."
	He could feel his emotion grow, "Shit," he uncharacteristically he
said to himself, and he fought to control it, "that they are as close to a
perfect match as I know. They are the best of friends. They respect each
other. . . They honor each other. . . They complement each other. . . "
	"Damn," he thought to himself as tears flooded his eyes and he
fought to continue, "And,they love each other. . ."
	He had to swallow hard to control his voice. "They have all the
right ingredients."
	Two tears streamed down his cheeks as he raised his glass to
quickly finish, "I give you Karen and Bill.
	And, then added, "I love you both."
	"Why did I say that?" He quickly sat down, in part to hide the
embarrassment of his emotions.
	There was a brief moment of quiet as everyone present savored his
statement during which he quickly wiped his face. Then all rose and
repeated, "Karen and Bill."
	Karen and Bill stood up, tears unabashedly streaming down her face
and Bill's eyes were tear-brimmed. The two walked around the table to where
Tom was sitting. He stood and the couple embraced him warmly. Karen planted
a kiss on his cheek and Bill used the hug to dry his own tear-filled eyes
on Tom's shoulder and whispered, "Thanks, Tom, you're the best."
	After all the formalities were over, Bill and Karen, and the rest
of the wedding party--the young folks--decided to go to the motel where the
Dweyers were staying because they had a good band there and they wanted to
dance.
	Karen and Bill's parents advised them not to stay out too late
because, "Tomorrow's a big day. Don't forget the wedding's at two o'clock."
	"I'll get her home at a decent time," Bill promised the Hilliards.
	They needed that time to be alone, away from parents and
relatives--as much as they loved them. Bill, Karen, Tom, Anne and six other
young friends and relatives needed to release some of the pressures of the
day in dance. They danced, they talked, they laughed, they danced.
	At one-fifteen in the morning, Bill said to Karen, "I think I'd
better take you home now."
	"You stay here. It's a long round trip. Anne and I can get home
just fine. . ." she was saying.
	He placed his fingertips to her lips, "I can take you home."
	"I know you can, but I'm capable. Besides this is the last night
when I won't have to do everything you say," she added with mirth.
	"That'll be the day!" he snorted with good humor, adding, "It's not
such a long dr. . . ."
	This time she placed her fingertips on his lips. "I know, besides
you need to conserve your strength," she said with an exaggerated wink.
	He knew that there was no arguing. She was right; a forty minute
round trip is longer than twenty minutes one way. He enfolded her in his
arms, kissed her gently on the lips and whispered in her ear, "Hussy."
	"I know, but you love me you shameless man," she laughed in
reply. Planting a quick kiss on his lips she turned and followed Anne
towards the lobby. "Don't forget tomorrow. Two o'clock."
	"Fat chance," he answered smiling. She turned, mirrored his smile
and swept out the door.
	Bill turned to Tom, "I should have driven them home."
	"Come on, you know Karen's perfectly capable, not a helpless,
fluttering belle. . . isn't that one of the reasons you love her?"
	"Yeah, you're right, still. . . ."
	Later Tom and Bill, in their room, performed their nightly
'chores,' got into their beds, turned off the light, talked a while and
sank into the arms of sleep.

	The phone's unearthly jangle jolted Tom out of sleep. Quickly he
reached for it before it rang a second time. Glancing over he barely could
see that Bill was still asleep. . . he fought his way to reasonable
wakefulness. . . brought the receiver to his ear and quietly spoke into the
mouthpiece, "Yes."
	"Who's speaking?" issued from the earpiece.
	"Who do you want?" asked Tom, not a little annoyed.
	"Is this Tom Wright?"
	"Yes. Who's this?"
	"Rog, Roger Dweyer. Is Bill there?"
	"Yes, but, he's sleeping. What time is it?" he asked, now annoyed.
	"Three-thirty. . . Tom, there's been an accident. . ." His voice
was strange, monotone, sepulchral in its delivery.
	"What?" he now fought for total, unimpeded consciousness.
	"An accident. . . Karen. . . Karen. . . she's been . . . killed."
	"Oh, my God, my God. . . ." his hand clamped over his mouth to
stifle his complete shock. He sat, bolt-upright. "Are you sure?" he
whispered with hoarse intensity into the mouthpiece.
	"Yes. . ."
	"Where?"
	"Just about two miles outside of Jordan. . ."
	"Oh, My. . . God." He glanced over to Bill's still sleeping
form. "Oh, Sweet Jesus. . . ." his head began to shake in disbelief. And,
again, "Are you absolutely sure?" "This has got to be a nightmare," he
thought.
	"Yes. Absolutely." Then, after a brief moment, "Tom," imploringly,
"can you tell Bill?"
	"Oh, God," tears flooded and spilled down his face, hot, acid
tears, "Yes. . .oh, God. . . why me?. . . Yes, yes, I will."
	"Thanks." came the answer as the receiver slowly left Tom's ear,
slowly passed through that space toward its cradle, slowly it descended,
"Tom, are you," CLICK, slowly to its rest.
	For interminable seconds he sat there, hand silence-clamped over
his mouth, head 'no'-shaking, body sweat-trembling, tears
acid-flowing. Dazed he swung his leaded legs over the side of the
bed. Dazed he reached and switched on the light between the two beds. Bill
shifted in his sleep. With herculean single-mindedness, he fought of the
daze, he fought of the opiate of shock, he fought to surface from the
abyss.
	"Bill," quietly, not really wanting to call out that name.
	"Bill," again, a bit more forceful, but not loud. Bill shifted.
	Tom took the step to the side of Bill's bed, emotionally a
light-years' distance, sat on the edge, placed his hand on Bill's shoulder,
louder this time, loud enough to lase through sleep, he half-sobbed,
"Bill."
	"Mmmm. . ."
	"Bill," clear and forceful, "wake up."
	Bill rolled over, hooded eyes, light sensitive squinted up at Tom,
sleep-doped asked, "What ya want?"
	"Bill, wake up, please."
	Annoyed at being aroused, "Shit! I am awake, What the fuck time is
it?"
	Imploring, intensely he pleaded, "Please. . . Bill, wake up."
	From somewhere deep inside his being a switch turned 'On,' and Bill
subconsciously was aware of some urgency. He pushed himself up on one
elbow, fought to focus on Tom's eyes, focused. . . saw tears. . .refocused
. . again saw tears. . .adrenalined now to full wakefulness, "What is it?"
he demanded.
	With what seemed like unnatural calmness, Tom again placed his hand
on Bill's shoulder, and began to speak,"Bill, it's Karen." What else could
he say?
	"What?" as if he didn't hear right, "Concentrate. Listen."
	"Karen, there's been an accident. . . God help me!
. . . she's. . . she's dead," his voice broke.
	Pole-axed, shocked into unbelievable horror, instantly blanching
white, unable to speak, then, "NOOOO," he screamed. Simultaneously and
involuntarily, he violently lashed out, catching Tom beside the head,
sending him crashing to the floor, and vaulting to a standing position in
the middle of the bed. All this within the space of one incredible
second. Again, the only word that he could utter came forth, uncontrolled,
"NOOOO." Every vein, every muscle tensed and bulged like a grotesque,
shuddering, unreal apparition. The shuddering grew to tremors.
	Tom, dazed by the blow, sat up on the floor, stared at the form he
knew to be Bill, but now distorted. Shakily he stood up and became aware of
the tremors. They racked Bill's body with increasing intensity. He hadn't
uttered a sound since the second, screamed 'no.'
	 Bill had not uttered a sound! The spasms now overtook his whole
form with violent ferocity. Bill still stood, wide-eyed, unspeaking,
shaking.
	Not comprehending, but knowing that something had to be done, Tom
begged, "Bill, don't." He reached up, threw his arms around Bill's waist,
and drew his friend to him, trying to absorb some of the pain.
	The dam broke. Every voluntary muscle gave out simultaneously. Bill
collapsed, dragging Tom down onto the surface of the bed with him.
	Then uncontrolled sobs filled the room, wails of such utter
despair, cries of pain never before felt. . . all Tom could do was to
cradle and rock his friend as tears streamed down his face.