Lost December (5 page)

“So today you’re a hedonist,” Marshall said.

“Hedonist
and
believer. Think about it. If you believe in the one All Mighty Creator, then look at what He’s created: the sensual pleasures, food, drink, flesh—they’re His creations, not ours—created for our enjoyment. And that is the only God worth worshiping, the one who created us …”

“Or
we
created,” interjected Marshall.

“… Or we created,” Sean agreed. “The God who wants us to experience true pleasure. Anything less is masochism. And that’s Lucy’s deal, not mine.”

Lucy grinned.

“She’d have to be a masochist to stay with Marshall,” Suzie said.

Sean raised a glass. “To greed, hedonism and the One True God who gave it to the world.”

Candace was right. Her friends were anything but dull.

What a difference having a friend makes
…

Luke Crisp’s Diary

Candace and I left Smokey Joe’s a few hours later. It was dark outside and the temperature had fallen, necessitating a brisker pace. “So what did you think of my friends?” Candace asked.

“Interesting.”

“Interesting
good
or interesting
bad?”

“Keeping up with their banter is the mental equivalent of a treadmill,” I said.

She burst out laughing, which had a sweet, joyful ring to it. “Exactly. Sometimes when you’re with them you just want to drink yourself stupid. I never take them too seriously, but every now and then they’ll say something worth thinking about.”

“So I take it that Sean’s the leader?”

“Pretty much.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Sean’s the son of a very wealthy Boston investment banker. He’s worldly, you know? He’s like a collegiate shaman. He’s got this amazing sense—he knows every party and can get into any of them. He’s likable, don’t you think?”

I nodded. “He’s very charismatic.”

“Yeah, he is. I could tell he liked you.”

“How could you tell?”

“Believe me, you’d know if he didn’t.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “Lucy and Suzie both have a thing for him.”

“I thought Lucy was with Marshall.”

“She is. But I’m pretty sure that’s by default. The girls all want Sean.”

“You too?”

“Present company excluded,” she said. “Sean’s not exactly the kind of foundation you’d want to build on, if you know what I mean.”

“Are they all in Wharton?”

“No. Lucy’s working on her undergrad at UPenn. Same with Suzie. I think she’s an art major. Sean and Marshall met them at a club.”

“What’s James’s story? He didn’t really seem to fit in with Sean and Marshall.”

“No, I’m not sure why he hangs out with them,” she said. “James comes from a military family, so there’s no money. He’s at Wharton on a scholarship and he works on the side. He owns an office-cleaning business.”

“He seems more serious than the others.”

“He is. He misses a lot of our get-togethers to actually study. He’s also the only one of the group who goes to church, which Sean enjoys mocking.”

“Then why does he hang out with them?”

“Like I said, I’m not sure why. Maybe he thinks he can save their souls.”

“It doesn’t seem to be working,” I said.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“How about you?” I asked. “Are you religious?”

“Not really. I go to church now and then, Christmas, Easter, that kind of thing. And you?”

“I did when I was little. When my mother was still alive.”

“You lost your mother?”

“When I was seven.”

She looked at me sympathetically. “I’m sorry. That must have been horrible.”

“It was.” I turned to her. “So, how did you answer Sean’s question? What is the meaning of life?”

“I think,” she said deliberately, “the meaning of life is exactly what one says it is.”

We arrived at our apartment building and walked in. We stopped in front of the elevator.

“Tell me something,” I said. “Why did you invite me tonight?”

She smiled. “I don’t know. I’ve just noticed you in class. Something about you intrigued me.” She added, “There’s more to you.”

“More?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. Solidness.”

I grinned a little. “Solidness, huh? You’re saying I’m thick?”

“No, I’m saying you have substance. I’ve lived with enough hollow people to know.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.

“I meant it as one,” she replied. “So, my turn. Why did you accept my invitation?”

“Unfortunately, my answer will completely refute all you just said.”

“Yes?”

“I thought you had beautiful eyes.”

A broad smile crossed her face. A moment later the elevator door opened and we both stepped inside. I pushed the button for my floor and hers. When we reached the third floor, she leaned forward and pecked me on the cheek. “Thanks again for coming. I’ll see you in class.” She stepped out of the elevator and turned back. “Good night, Luke.”

“Good night, Candace.”

She waved goodbye as the doors closed. Wharton was already looking a whole lot better.

The law of centrifugal force seems to be as true for the
human condition as it is for Newtonian mechanics—
the faster our lives spin, the more things tend to fly apart
.

Luke Crisp’s Diary

After that first evening, Candace and I started seeing each other three or four times a week. She fascinated me. She was smart, though more streetwise than academically. She confided in me that she struggled in most of her classes.

Candace asked a lot of questions about my childhood but didn’t offer much about her own. I never had the sense that she was hiding anything as much as she just didn’t care to talk about it. All I really knew about her past was that she had moved a lot, and her parents had divorced a year before she started college, something that had profoundly affected her. As I got to know her better, I began to understand her comment about being attracted to my “solidness.” She seemed afraid of the unknown—especially in financial matters. What Sean had called her, “careful,” was right on. Both confident
and
careful, if that’s possible. I had never met anyone quite like her.

Looking back, my feelings for Candace crept up on me with such stealth that I couldn’t tell you when I actually fell in love, but it was in early November that I knew I was hooked. I suppose I had never really been in love before—I’m not saying there hadn’t been women in my life, or, at
least, girls; there had and I’d had crushes on more than a few of them—but my feelings for Candace were something new. Something powerful. And they were growing stronger. I found myself spending every free moment I could with her and thinking about her when I wasn’t with her. It may have had something to do with growing up without a mother, but I became enamored with her maternal nature. Once I got a paper cut and she immediately grabbed my hand and kissed my finger. I loved it. I loved her.

I’ve heard it said that more than a few men have been dashed to bits on the reef of femininity. If I wasn’t sunk, I was, at least, run aground. Within six weeks of our meeting we decided to only see each other.

The “study group” continued to meet weekly, and Sean and I became friends as well. The relationship was refreshing. Outside of my father, I hadn’t had a close male friend in years.