Friday. A mild fall evening in Texas. There it was again-the funny feeling. I'd had it off and on since I woke up this morning, and I was experiencing it again now, now when I was about to load the grill with more of what seemed a ton of food for my friends. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but an anticipatory one. I kept glancing at the redwood fence's gate, also redwood, and I avoided any excitement I could have felt if I'd allowed myself to believe that my funny feeling was associated with a possible visit from Kiefer. A visit seemed unlikely since
24
filming was in full swing, but the feeling had proven pretty sure in the past. I managed to turn the meat and get the veggies on the grill and then mumbled an offer to retrieve more beer and wine. I certainly wasn't going to answer my friend Sarah's most recent question honestly.
"What's wrong with you, P.J.," she asked. "You've been more there than here since we arrived."
"Where's there," asked David.
"Oh, don't be obtuse, David. You know that's a figure of speech."
I smiled, an attempt at normalcy, and told Sarah, hence the group, that I had simply been distracted by thinking about my upcoming lecture tour.
"This one's different," I said. "This one takes me to two universities I've never been to in this capacity before. I get nervous, a good kind of nervous, going to new places."
A few years before, I'd gotten out of the full time classroom and begun to teach as a guest lecturer around the metroplex area and to travel to universities and colleges throughout the country delivering lectures on various pieces of literature and literary periods. I was enjoying my new lifestyle. Although it was in some ways more hectic, there was also more free time when I scheduled it. A more flexible schedule meant more chances of being free when Kiefer had a few days off.
"You'll love Pepperdine," Beth said. "I used to visit there when I was at UCLA. I had a friend there."
My friend Beth had attended UCLA in the early 70s and was very fond of recalling her days in Southern California. My friends, all of whom were also colleagues, were more than that-because I had no relatives, they were my family as well. I'd known most of them for twenty years or more, and although they knew much about me, there was much they did not know, too. They knew that I'd been in relationships, but they were long distance relationships and my friends were not privy to the details. They were, however, nosy, constantly asking me who I was seeing, what the person was like, and when they were going to meet him. They continually tried to fix me up with men. When I met Kiefer, about a decade ago, I told them about it but they didn't know whom I was talking about really until I said he was Donald Sutherland's son. "Oh, yeah, Donald, he's cool," they said.
More recently, D'Ann, my large, beautiful-souled friend, had gotten everyone interested in Kiefer because of
24
. To her credit, she had been a rabid Kiefer fan for many years, but she was the newest member of the group and had not been around those many years ago when I told my story about meeting Kiefer. The others had probably neither believed nor disbelieved me because they were indifferent. Of what importance was a Kiefer Sutherland? If D'Ann only knew. She had managed over the past two years to draw Sarah, Beth, and Jennifer into a Kiefer frenzy and had even gotten David and Jared to watch more than a few Kiefer flicks. In fact, one night a month the four of us ladies get together for a "Kiefer-fest." We choose two movies, watch them in succession, get increasingly drunk as the night progresses, and discuss the merits and demerits of the movies. Hell, even
Dark City
gets good reviews if it's the second movie and the margaritas are good!
Beth continued her California talk. "Really, you won't feel uncomfortable at Pepperdine at all. I think you'll really like it. You'll have to look up my friend Cheryl while you're there. How long are you going to stay?"
"Oh, I'll be there for awhile. Probably a month, at least. It's not just a Pepperdine trip. I'll be doing some research for a piece I'm writing for that journal published by the U of C Press."
Although all of my friends were quite intelligent, Beth was the most intellectual and certainly the most conservative personality of the group. Sometimes she surprised us with glimpses into her California past. Since we had known her though, we'd seen only a staid, deliberate character-steadfast, trustworthy, loyal, and suspicious for her friends. We could count on Beth to ask the right questions for us when she surmised we were on the brink of trouble. D'Ann, despite her less than modest size, was a gregarious, urbane, witty woman who could tell stories of her years in New York with abandon. Jennifer, a musical artist, was delicate and brash at the same time, and her voice held the same melodious quality as her piano performances. David, a very organized and intelligent man, was well read and able to converse decently on a number of topics. Jared, a dancer, director, and actor, was opinionated and entertaining. Sarah was just Sarah. She was a professor and a lawyer, brilliant, scattered, and giving to a fault. Sarah, Beth, D'Ann, and Jennifer all had husbands in the past-I'd never met any of the husbands. Although D'Ann had a string of men friends, the others had no known love interests. Made me wonder why they were always harping on me to find someone. David had a wonderful companion, John, with whom he'd been involved for seven years. John rarely accompanied David to our gatherings and Stacy, Jared's wife, never came. She was considerably younger than us and preferred time with their four year old son. Our ages ranged from 40 to 57, with me being somewhere close to the median at 49. We were comfortable together.
Comfortable. Yeah. That's what Kiefer and I had been from the moment we'd met. Within an hour or two, it was as if we'd known one another for ages. Ages. The difference between our ages didn't seem to matter to Kiefer at all-he seemed oblivious, in fact. It bothered me in that I worried about what his friends, or peers, or the media would say about him being with an 'old lady.' It was the reason, the only reason, I'd chosen to be a kind of back door woman. Kiefer and I were usually together here at my home, somewhere on vacation, or, not so frequently, in L.A. when I was in the area. I was thinking about my impending California trip when Beth's voice brought me back to reality.
Just as she was about to inquire more deeply into the trip, my chocolate Labrador began to whimper. He had been a puppy when Kiefer gave him to me four years ago. I was torn between calling him Young Tad, from
Bright Lights, Big City
, or Athos, from
The Three Musketeers
. Still undecided after all these years, I called him both, switching back and forth at will. Athos began to jump straight up in the air as well as whimper. Now I knew. My funny feeling had been accurate. Kiefer was here. Athos only whimpered and jumped straight up when Kiefer was near.
"What is it, Young Tad? Is Daddy here? Do you hear Daddy? Huh? Is he here?" I continued to cajole Athos as I neared his dogrun gate. I barely lifted the latch when Athos burst through and headed to the gate that led to the driveway and the detached garage at the back of my home. I continued to speak to Athos.
"Who do you hear, baby? Is it your daddy? Huh?"
Athos began to jump straight up, all four paws off the ground, head as near the top of the eight foot fence as possible. Suddenly, another head, or the top half of a head, appeared near the gate from the other side of the fence. Athos went crazy. He began to bark wildly and his tail became lethal as it wagged beyond description. The third time he jumped up, Kiefer grabbed the top of the fence and hung on, pulling his full face over the top of the fence and grinning widely at Athos. He panted like a dog, shaking his head, lolling his tongue out. Athos could no longer deal with the excitement.
"Open the gate for Daddy, Athos. Open it."
As if he could open the heavy apparatus, Athos went up to the gate. I stepped near and swung the gate open towards me as I stepped slightly behind it. Kiefer took a few steps inside before Athos jumped up to place his front paws on Kiefer's chest, a chest clothed in a very expensive suit. The tie was missing, a tie I imagined had been wadded up and stuffed in either a pocket in the suit or a pocket in the luggage which was visible on the drive. I closed the gate. Down Kiefer and Athos went into the soft grass, rolling and rolling, yelping and panting. Athos licked Kiefer mercilessly. I don't know which of us was more excited to see Kiefer, me or Athos. My heart was pounding wildly and my stomach was flittering as if I were a teenager encountering my first love. Finally, after a few minutes of play, Kiefer spoke to Athos in a low voice. Kiefer stood and Athos remained at his feet, staring up in adoration. I certainly knew how the dog felt. Rolling in the grass with Kiefer is good. He crossed the four or five feet of distance between us spreading his arms to enfold me as he stopped a few inches from me. The arms, welcome arms, wrapped around me, one arm around my waist and one around my shoulders. Kiefer's chin rested on the top of my head. I turned my head to the right and laid my cheek on Kiefer's chest. He smelled like Athos. He did not smell strongly of cigarettes and this meant he had taken the time to shower, shampoo, brush, and change clothes before he boarded a plane to Dallas. That made me feel special. He knew how I not only hated the fact that he still smoked, but also that I hated the lingering smell. The embrace was brief. He pulled back and I turned my head around and up to look into his face.
"Hi," he said. "I was in the neighborhood. You have a date? Am I barging in where I shouldn't be?"
"Yeah," I said, sweeping my hand in an imaginary circle around my friends. "I'm dating all of these people at the same time. The bed's hardly big enough for us all when we pile in!"
"Is that right? Well, I feel sorry for 'em. Even if there are six of 'em, they probably have a hard time keeping up with you, eh?" He grinned and I made a mock shocked face.
Kiefer turned to the group. I turned too. I hadn't given anything or anyone a thought since I realized Kiefer was here. Poor D'Ann was stunned. Her jaw was slack and her eyes glazed. I didn't have time to observe the others closely before Kiefer started introducing himself. He began on the left of the semicircle, saying hello first to David then Jared who were both now standing. Next, D'Ann, frozen in her seat, was regaled with a throaty hello and a comment about her beautiful red hair. I was sure she'd gotten off right there in her chair after that-perhaps even before! Kiefer then shook hands with Beth, commenting on the deep blue of her eyes, then with Jennifer, taking both of her hands into his and turning them over.
"You are a musician?"
"Y-y-yes," Jennifer stuttered.
"You have beautiful hands."
Kiefer finally turned to Sarah who wore a grin the size of her heart.