THAT’S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR
LaRhonda Romero
Chapter I
"Catherine! Are you in there?" Mary called out. She had reluctantly agreed to go with Catherine for a ‘day of pampering’ at one of New York’s premier day spas. Catherine’s obvious excitement encouraged Mary to look forward to the experience, even though she’d never set foot in one before in her life.
"I’ll be right out Mary! Let me get my shoes on", Catherine’s voice sounded from down the hall. In a moment, she appeared dressed in dark brown linen pants, with matching sweater, brown flats, and a brown suede purse to complete her look. Mary looked down at her own attire, the dark blue skirt and white blouse, the navy flats and the ever-present fanny pack around her waist, and felt positively dowdy. She always felt that way, only now more than ever when she was standing next to Vincent’s very fashionable wife. ‘Oh well,’ she thought, maybe this day spa is just what I need; who knows, maybe Jacob might even notice’.
"This is really sweet of you Catherine, and Vincent too, taking over my class for the day".
"Think nothing of it Mary. We girls deserve a treat," then she added, "Wait till you try the mud bath. Absolute heaven!"
"Mud Bath?" Mary asked dubiously.
"Come on Mary," Catherine chuckled, "trust me."
She took the older woman’s arm companionably as they walked out into a beautiful autumn day in New York.
*************
Vincent heard the sound of skipping feet and peals of laughter coming down the tunnel corridor and then saw the smiling faces of two of his young charges come bouncing into the classroom. Anna and Annabelle, three-year-old twins, very bright and extremely energetic were new to the tunnels. They and their mother, Marie had arrived about six months earlier after facing the devastating tragedy of losing the husband and father of the family to a drive-by shooting. Marie worked Above at a drugstore, and had made a home for herself and her daughters Below. While it appeared that the twins were adjusting well, Marie was very bitter because of the monsters that had deprived her of a husband and her daughters of their father. He had been coming home from work that spring night, had no ties to criminals whatsoever, and had simply been caught in the crossfire. Father and the other tunnel dwellers had given Marie all the support they could, but they also knew that she needed time to heal.
Six more children soon arrived in the classroom, each bearing his or her own story of triumph over tragedy, courage over fear.
Because Vincent prided himself on his organizational skill, earlier that morning he’d set up the classroom with everything he thought he would need for a preschool class: Water, paint, sand, and clay areas; along with aprons, brushes, sponges, water and sand toys, as well as crayons, paper, puzzles, and Legos.
"There, everything is ready; this is going to be, as Catherine would say, ‘a piece of cake!’"
"Hi ‘incent," sounded a small voice which was soon joined by another, "No Mary?’ " Bencent! Why you come here?" asked another inquisitive little voice.
"Oops!" Vincent involuntarily exclaimed as he was tackled by four year old Ziggy. "Good morning children," he began, " Mary is not here today…"
A chorus of "whys" answered him before he could get his sentence out. "She sick?", "Where is she?" "Why she not here?"
Vincent had to smile at the children’s questions. He answered them. "Mary and Catherine had to go to the city this morning, but they are coming back later today, and Mary will be here tomorrow. Now children, lets make a circle and begin our day."
They started with a game called "The Balloon". They all held hands and pretended that they were part of a giant balloon that had to be blown up; as the balloon got bigger, they each took a step backwards. Finally, the "balloon" got so big each child had to let go of the other’s hand and most of them collapsed backwards onto the floor amid shouts of laughter. Everybody except Vincent; he did not relish landing on his backside, as he had further to fall.
The morning progressed uneventfully and included more games, which the children enjoyed along with their teacher. Shapes, colors, and number and letter recognition rounded out the morning and soon it was time for lunch. Vincent had to admit that his stomach was reminding him that it had gone quite a while without food.
Tasty meals were provided by William, the community cook, along with the assistance of several Helpers, one of whom owned a deli and provided the tunnel dwellers with refrigerated items that couldn’t be stored below. Londie, a recent arrival, delivered the food. She was assistant to William, which was odd for the usually cranky cook, whose preference to work alone was practically legendary. Many of the tunnel residents suspected he was a bit sweet on her.
"Hola Vicente!", then, "Where’s Mary? She sick?" asked Londie.
"Hello, no, she’s not sick, she and Catherine went to something called a spa." replied Vincent, hungrily eyeing an egg salad sandwich.
"Oh that’s nice. They’re gonna have a good time. Well, since Sra. Mary isn’t here, you get to eat her lunch. Enjoy." She handed Vincent a large tray and a carton of chocolate milk which he accepted gratefully.
As the children settled down to eat their meal, Vincent used the time to wonder how Catherine and Mary were enjoying their day.
*****************************
"Mud bath? I can’t believe people actually pay to be encased in…mud," Mary had to laugh at the very idea. "Tell me again, what is this mud bath supposed to do?"
Catherine chuckled at Mary’s remark. Considering how the tunnel community was often threatened with flooding and mudslides during the spring rains, and winter rainstorms, it was perfectly understandable for any tunnel resident to have qualms about mud in general, and a mud bath in particular.
"Mary, if you’d rather not, it’s quite all right…," Catherine began.
"No, no. I would like to say I have experienced a ‘voluntary’ mud bath at least once in my life. I remember reading somewhere that mud baths are supposed to be good for the skin." She added softly under her breath, "who knows, maybe I’ll put a twinkle in Jacob’s old eyes".
After about ten minutes, Mary decided she could not take any more. The feeling of drying mud, no matter what it was doing for her pores or her psyche, was getting on her nerves. Still, she did not want to appear ungrateful, she tried to grit her teeth and bear it, but…no way! "Catherine, could you please call the attendant, I need to get this stuff off of me. It feels very uncomfortable, dear."
"Oh of course Mary, right away. I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the mud bath." Catherine called for the attendant and the two women were herded off to the showers. A few minutes later, Mary breathed a sigh of relief to feel her skin clean and free of the caked-on mud. Watching her, Catherine made a mental note to ask Vincent if Mary had ever been caught in one of the tunnel floods. ’I sure hope she’s not turned off of the whole spa thing!’ Aloud she said, "Are you still game to try the massage?"
"Absolutely dear. Thanks for going along with an old lady’s craziness!"
"Oh Mary!", Catherine laughingly scolded, "You’re not old! Women do not age. We get better. Like a bottle of fine wine."
"Well, in that case, I’m a very delicate, and much to be treasured liquor," Mary laughed, getting into the spirit of fun.
The two women dissolved into near helpless laughter as they made their way to the massage area.
"This is more like it, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven," Mary sighed contentedly as the masseuse worked what felt like magic on Mary’s neck and shoulder muscles.
"Yes, I’ve got to agree, this is just what the doctor ordered", Catherine answered dreamily.
"Speaking of doctors, I wonder if a good massage would help Jacob with his arthritic hip." Mary wondered aloud.
"It would probably do him a world of good, it’s just getting him to agree to come here." Catherine answered. She gave a small smile at Mary’s words; she had long suspected that Mary held more than platonic feelings for Jacob Wells. Maybe she could give Cupid a little push in the right direction.
***************
As far as Vincent was concerned, the person who had invented the idea of the "afternoon nap" deserved a medal, a parade, and a day named in his honor! ‘Thank God they’re all asleep! he sighed with relief. He loved children, but he needed a break from the constant noise, bickering, and general chaos that seemed to reign supreme when eight little preschoolers were together for most of the day. ‘How does Mary do this everyday!’ he wondered. He turned as he heard soft footsteps approaching the chamber door.
"Vincent, I’m here to give you a break, I usually come around this time in the afternoon to relieve Mary; so if you want to take off for an hour or so, its okay," said Ellen, who was fifteen, loved kids and wanted to be a teacher when she grew up.
"Thank you Ellen, I’ll do that, I need to go and check on Father, he mentioned last evening that his hip had been bothering him", then he added, "Will you be all right with the children while I’m gone--- little Ziggy can be a handful".
"Naw! We’ll be okay. If he wakes up before you get back, I’ll just have him sort crayons or something."
"Very well then, I’ll see you in about an hour."
As Vincent walked toward his father’s chamber, he thought abut the little community. What few people realized was that the tunnel community’s educational system exactly mirrored the class schedules and educational requirements of the state of New York. In fact, in many ways the tunnel community actually exceeded the state’s guidelines. Many were the teachers, counselors, and several principals who had been educated in the tunnels. There were even a few who had gone on to become college professors! These in turn became the Helpers who provided the necessary "paper trail" for students who decided they wished to attend college or university.
Sometimes Vincent felt a pang of envy because he wished the circumstances of his life could have been different. He would listen to the stories of those who had been to college; the camaraderie, the discussions, the sometimes heated debates, the opportunity to meet and speak to people from all over the world, exchanging ideas, thoughts and opinions. Vincent held one small fantasy buried deep within; that he could just walk into a college class and no one would bat an eyelash, he would not only be accepted, but welcomed for his intellectual abilities, and be a valued member of the class.
He imagined himself walking across campus, hurrying to classes, maybe stopping to converse with friends along the way. Maybe one day, earning an advanced degree in English Literature. He imagined himself sitting behind a desk with his name and title, Dr. Vincent Wells. He could spend his days researching obscure points of literature, and his nights loving Catherine. He thought about how nice it would be to take Catherine out on the town, dinner and dancing. The simple pleasure of walking down the street holding hands in broad daylight. Being free to enjoy the many things the Topsiders took for granted. Vincent looked at his hands, covered with fur and at the deadly claws that tipped each finger, and sighed.
*********************************
Catherine caught a fleeting sense of sadness and frustration through the Bond, and wondered what had upset Vincent. She made a mental note to ask him about it later. Mary and Catherine had moved onto the glamorous part of the day. Catherine laughed at the memory of Mary encased in mineral mud, and how she couldn’t wait to get to the showers. But both ladies had to admit, their skin felt very smooth and silky; it positively glowed.
"Now what?" asked Mary.
"Now we do the hair, make-up and then dress-up", replied Catherine playfully.
Mary had mentioned that in her youth she had been a classic redhead, with milky white skin, fiery red hair, and brown eyes. Now that hair was a bit faded and shot through with gray, her brown eyes held both joy, and the remembrance of deep pain. Mary never talked about her past; this reluctance to speak about the past seemed to be a defining characteristic of the Tunnel Dwellers. Catherine could only guess what had brought Mary to live Below, but she recognized the signs of abuse. Mary’s upper arms bore the faint, but distinctive rounds marks that could only have been made by cigarette burns. Catherine remembered asking Mary about the marks, and had received the cryptic reply, "These are just constant reminders of what happens when you don’t trust your instincts". After making this statement, Mary had deftly changed the subject. As much as the lawyer in Catherine wanted to pursue the question; kindness over ruled compulsion, and she let it drop.
"Catherine, how do you feel about Father? I know he gave you and Vincent such a hard time in the beginning, I just hope you’ve forgiven him."
"Mary, I forgave him a long time ago. Father was only reacting out of love and concern for his son, as any parent would. You know we can actually sit and laugh now about some things. I love him like he is my own dad. Why do you ask?"
"Oh…just curious I guess. He does love you both so much, and he is a good man."
"I certainly know that."
Catherine was aware of a very low-keyed attraction between Mary and the Tunnel patriarch. She and Vincent loved Mary dearly and both also knew that Mary was the couple’s strongest advocate. During Vincent and Catherine’s courtship, it was Mary who finally made Father see that not only was Vincent a grown man, but that he had the right to follow his own heart, the dictates of his own mind and that there was no power on earth, Above or Below that would keep Vincent and Catherine apart. Mary also made Jacob see that if he continued to oppose their relationship, he ran the very real risk of totally alienating both his son and Catherine.
"Mary," Catherine decided to take the plunge, "It’s obvious that you and Father are great friends, but has he ever indicated to you that he’d like to be more than friends?"
Mary laughed softly, "Sometimes Catherine…," She began wistfully, "Sometimes I get a …sense that there might be more than friendship, but…Margaret was his one true love, and I don’t think Jacob will ever get over her loss. Also…look at me, I’m an old woman. How could I attract any man at my age?" Mary finished.
"Forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, but I think that not only are you a very attractive woman, you’re also good and kind, and a loyal friend. I think that any man would have to be completely out of his mind if he were unable to see what a jewel you are".
"Oh, thank you sweetie. I do admit I think about being stylish and wearing the smart outfits I’ve seen in magazines. It would be nice to get an admiring glance or two…" Mary didn’t finish the thought, she really didn’t need too.
"Mary", Catherine said decisively, "Put yourself in my hands today and I’ll transform you! By the time this day is done, you’re going to knock the socks off a certain physician."