[Surrogate's Blog]
A day without surrogate, is like any other day, except... without surrogate.snippet 10
2007-04-06
We’d planned on staying the night at the party, something most of us had made a habit of doing at cast parties. Frankly, this practice had been suggested by the faculty members who helped with the musicals, most of whom themselves showed up at the parties for an hour or two... Different times. Still their logic was sound; they knew most of us would be trashed, and didn’t want to worry about us on the roads.In the basement of the house, a couple of joints were being passed around a good sized circle and the talk, as had been the case for most of the night, once the post-performance back-patting and self-congratulations were done with, centered around Alma and Mr. Pedersen.
It was well past midnight by now, and the alcohol and pot had taken hold to the point where even those people who’d refrained from imbibing were enjoying the antics and slurred speech of the rest of us.
Jorunn was sitting across the floor from Amanda and me, leaning against the bulk of Joe Stephan, an absolutely huge trombone player who crossed the lines easily between the athletic department and our little music world. He was the center on the school’s football team and a state ranked wrestler. Everybody loved Joe.
Jorunn fit in well and had, over the months, seemed to become quite comfortable among us, but was still quiet most of the time, at least quieter than we were. Her English, though better than it had been when she arrived, was still a little odd.
She sat up suddenly, and passed a joint to her left, not taking a hit herself. I hadn’t noticed whether she’d been smoking any earlier, but she certainly didn’t have any just then. Someone was saying that they didn’t think it was anyone’s business what Mr. Pedersen and Alma did in private as long as Alma wasn’t coerced into the situation.
This was hardly an original position amongst many of us, though I still didn’t like it; she was a student, and he was a married man. Still, I hadn’t weighed in, not wanting my opinion to come across as a public condemnation of either one of these people, both of whom I liked.
Jorunn, the second she’d let go of the joint, in a voice that was both louder and more serious than I’d ever heard her use before, said, “I agree. Sometimes there is such a sex need, possible it is not to have control. Is not possible, and to anyone, this can happen. It is the lust.”
...........................
It is, “the” lust.
Isn’t it?
...........................
The lust, it seemed, had impregnated Alma. Who am I to say whether “the love they shared,” as Alma liked to refer to it, was real as rain or something she’d created in that pretty little head of hers that was indeed real for her but less so for Mr. Pedersen. I do know that he didn’t seem to be trying to contact Alma to make plans for their great getaway into the sunset; hell, she hadn’t been able to get a hold of him since the very day of Mrs. Baver’s discovery of... well, discovery.
In fact, the last time Alma had seen Mr. Pedersen, he was pulling up his pants in panic and telling her to go straight home - presumably to brush her teeth.
If this had happened today, think of all the ways they would have been able to communicate: secret e-mail accounts; instant messaging; voice mail; cell phones... Though, I suppose none of that would have mattered if Mr. Pedersen didn’t want to hear from Alma, or didn’t feel the need to talk to her, which, from the looks of things, he didn’t.
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