One of the things that Sean Myers liked about San Francisco was all the fascinating people he saw, people who were artistic, unconventional, bohemian. (``Bohemian,'' Sean knew, was an old fashion-word. His vocabulary contained a number of old-fashioned words, because of the sort of books he usually read. He preferred using these words rather than trying to find more contemporary equivalents. He tried to think of it as a charming affectation in himself, ``affectation'' being another such word. Also, thinking in an old-fashioned bookish language made him feel not so young.)
Berkeley was interesting too, but whenever he got the chance, Sean liked to take BART across the bay and walk the streets of San Francisco, go into little shops and spend time in coffee houses. Sean thought of Berkeley as being more intellectual, academic, and San Francisco as more artistic. Both were good in their own way. Sean had chosen the path of the intellectual on pragmatic grounds (another old-fashioned, bookish word there, he thought), and that's why he was a student at Berkeley. But the artistic path still had a strong attraction for him.
The man and woman who came into the coffee house where Sean had been sitting for the past hour clearly represented the artistic path. The guy was the less interesting of the two, with his white dress shirt without a tie and dressy slacks. Sean wanted to believe that this guy was a musician, but he supposed he could just as easily be a waiter.
The woman, in Sean's opinion, was clearly an artist. He could see that from the way she was dressed, in a very Chinese looking silk blouse in bright colors, turquoise slacks with little stars here and there, and flat gold-colored sandals. There was nothing Chinese about the woman herself, though, with her mass of crinkly brown hair and her angular face. Sean thought she might have been forty, but her body was still slender -- delicate, almost, Sean thought -- and she knew how to make herself look attractive.
This couple represented a world that Sean thought he would probably never be able to be a part of. They represented the life he had imagined back when he used to have unrealistic ideas, like becoming a writer. Well, if he eventually went to law school, as his girl friend Leslie was encouraging him to do, maybe he could become a lawyer specializing in clients who were writers and artists. And if he wound up marrying Leslie, he hoped that he could eventually teach her to be interested in that sort of thing.
Sean looked back down at the book he'd been reading: Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations. He wished he knew how to meet people. This was his second year at Berkeley and he still wasn't making many friends. All around him there were interesting people, and he couldn't seem to find any way of making contact.
At least he had Leslie. Things weren't working out with her exactly the way he would have liked, but having a girl friend at all was a big accomplishment for him. In high school, he'd only had a few dates. Even when girls seemed to like him at first, they would later decide he was too strange. He was too intense and girls told him that he tried to take things much too fast.
One good thing about Leslie was that she thought in much more practical terms than Sean did. What she'd been telling Sean about going into a pre-law program made a lot of sense. It was fine to be interested in philosophy and literature and psychology and linguistics. But in the modern world, it makes sense for someone who's intelligent to also use their mind in a way that will enable them to be successful.
The woman in the Chinese blouse was arguing very loudly with her male companion. Sean decided to stare at her. This was what he usually did when he wanted to make contact with someone. It never worked, but it was the only approach he knew.
But now something happened that had never happened before. Instead of looking away in annoyance, this woman returned his look, looked him right in the eyes. There was definitely a moment of contact, a communication from her eyes to his. It was as if her eyes were saying, ``Hi, I think you're interesting, I'd like to meet you.''
When this happened, Sean became completely flustered and looked away. He knocked his notebook off his table and had to bend down to get it. He was aware that he was looking like a complete idiot.
But when he finally looked at the woman again, she had her back turned and once again was energetically berating her companion. Sean heard her call him Al, but he wasn't able to learn what her own name was.
Sean was at that moment very aware of how young he was. And the world that this couple represented, the world that seemed so desirable to him, seemed infinitely far away.
Then a few minutes later the woman came over to the table Sean was sitting at. Sean froze, not daring to look at her. The movie section of the Examiner was on his table. It wasn't even his, it had been there when he sat down, but he still thought it a bit nervy of her when she reached over and picked it up. In the process, she quickly ran one fingernail across his chest, and it was a minute after she'd walked away when he realized that instead of apologizing for taking the newspaper, what she'd said was, ``Follow me when I go to the bathroom.''
When he looked at her now, she wasn't paying any attention to him at all. He was almost ready to believe that what had just happened had been a hallucination.
She and the guy Al were arguing about whether to go see a movie. Finally, they agreed on one.
``I have to take a piss first,'' she said.
``Couldn't you have done that before?''
``So what do want me to do, wet my pants while I'm in your car? Would that suit you? I'm not planning on having a major bowel movement or shooting up. Is it okay if I just piss, can you fit that into your schedule?''
Even though the language Sean heard at Berkeley was very uninhibited, he was shocked at hearing a woman this old talk so loudly in public about bodily functions.
The woman had walked to the back of the coffee house without looking at Sean even once. The corridor to the restrooms was out of sight. Was she waiting for him back there? She didn't expect him to follow her into the ladies' room did she? Sean was sure that if he walked back in that direction, the guy Al would realize what was going on. Anyway, he'd probably just misunderstood what she said, or hallucinated it. He'd wind up making a fool of himself.
She took a long time. Finally, Al went back and started knocking on the door of the ladies' room. Then there was just quiet. Apparently they'd both gone out the back door.
For some reason, Sean found this episode extremely disturbing. For several minutes, he just sat staring off into nowhere, without any coherent thoughts. Then he looked down at Wittgenstein, read the same paragraph three times and realized he still had no idea what it was saying.
He started thinking about his girl friend Leslie. All morning, he'd been working on writing a letter to her, in between reading Wittgenstein. He already had four or five discarded drafts sitting underneath his coffee cup. Now he started writing again. He found that it was easier to explain himself in letters than in person.
He was trying hard not to make the same mistakes with her that he'd made with girls in high school. Even so, she was always saying to him, ``Why can't you just be normal, like everybody else?'' The thing was, Sean had never wanted to be like everybody else, but he knew better than to say that to Leslie.
Suddenly the woman in the Chinese blouse was standing beside Sean's table. She took the pen out of his hand, closed his notebook, and said, ``Why the fuck didn't you do what I told you to?''
She picked up Sean's book and notebook and walked out of the coffee house. Sean had no choice but to follow.
She led him about a black and a half, without either of them saying anything. Then she held up her hand for a cab and said to him, ``I hope you've got some money.''
``Some,'' he said. He was worried about how much a taxi would cost.
In the cab, the woman leaned forward over the front seat ahead of her, as if on the look-out for trouble. She didn't pay any attention to Sean and he was too intimidated to say anything. When the cab stopped, he took his wallet out and leaned forward to see how much the fare was. Taxis were unfamiliar territory for him.
While he was thinking about what size tip would be right, Virginia took the wallet out of his hand, pulled out a bill which she gave to the driver, and then gave Sean a shove to make him get out of the cab. If Sean had had any doubts that she'd tipped much too much, the driver's enthusiastic thanks would have dispelled them. Apparently this woman was used to being very generous. Or at least she was when it came to other people's money.
On the sidewalk, her intense anxiety vanished and she relaxed completely. Apparently she now felt safe. She smiled at Sean and said, ``Hi, I'm Virginia.'' Then she added, ``I give good head.''
Sean looked at her, not knowing how to answer. Finally he just said, ``I'm Sean.''
Virginia asked, ``Can you afford to buy me lunch?'' She was in fact still holding Sean's wallet, which had quite a bit of money in it by his standards, because of his date tonight. He didn't know quite what he was going to do if she refused to give it back.
But in a moment she realized what she was holding and handed it back with a nervous little laugh. ``This is yours, of course. I'm very sorry. It's just that you looked so confused in the taxi and I was trying to be helpful. You didn't think I was going to steal it from you did you? I'd never a thing like do that. That would be much too blatant!''
She gave another nervous laugh and snuggled against Sean's side. ``You do realize that I'm joking, don't you? I'm very honest, really. Men have trusted me with their life savings and I've never stolen a cent.''
Sean said, ``The thing is, I have to go back to Berkeley fairly soon because I have a date this evening.''
``Oh, dear. You do think that I'm a dangerous person who might rob you. Oh, if only you knew!''
Sean felt very awkward about the situation. He hadn't meant to accuse her of being dishonest. He'd just wanted to make it clear that he didn't have a lot of time. He didn't know what this woman had in mind. What she'd said when they got out of the taxi made it sound like she wanted to have sex with him. But that was probably just one of his wild unrealistic fantasies, although he knew that there did exist older women who liked having sex with younger men. Young boys, Sean emphasized to himself, reminding himself that he was only 19, even though he often felt much older.
Virginia was misinterpreting his long silence. ``Oh, but I can see that there's no way to make you trust me now. I should have known better than to ever touch your wallet. Men and their money, they're always worrying about it! But I so wanted to get to know you! You seem like such an interesting person!''
It was a constant source of frustration to Sean that people very seldom realized how interesting he was. Meeting this woman seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime. He just wished that he didn't have to worry about getting back to Berkeley for his date. Well, he could spare an hour at least.
Virginia snuggled against Sean's side again. ``Look, see this bar here? It's a public place. There are people in there and we can be seen from the outside through the window. You'll be totally safe with me, I won't be able to molest you or steal your money.''
``I'm not afraid of you,'' he said, although he realized that maybe he was, a little.
``Oh, of course not.'' Virginia laughed. ``Why do so many men find me so frightening? I'm really the most completely harmless person.''
She took him by the hand and led him into the bar.
``Do they have lunch here?'' He wished they gone to a restaurant instead. He was worried about being under-age. Fortuntely, people usually assumed that he was five or six years older than he was.
``Oh yes, but we're not ready for that yet, are we? After all, you have to decide whether you're willing to commit yourself to spend more than ten minutes in my company. We'll just start out with a drink. You wouldn't begrudge me the price of a drink, would you?''
``I'm really not afraid of you,'' Sean said. ``It's just that I don't have a whole lot of time.''
``I wish you'd reconsider that. Because there's a party I'd like you to go to with me tonight.''
To the cocktail waitress, she said, ``Two martinis.''
``Just a beer for me,'' Sean corrected.
The waitress asked him what kind of beer, and he didn't know what to answer. Virginia said, ``Oh, come on. Find out what it's like to live on the edge,'' and so he gave in and accepted a martini.
Unlike many of his classmates, he hadn't had much experience with drinking at all. And he'd never had an older woman treat him the way Virginia did, calling him a man, talking to him as if he were not just a student.
``It's not just anybody I would ask to this party, you know. There are going to be some very interesting people there. Artists, writers, musicians. Do you ever find that sort of person interesting?''
``I don't know any people like that,'' Sean said. ``I'd certainly like to. Maybe some other time, you could take me to one of those parties. I'd like that.''
Damn! he thought. Why did this have to happen now? His date that evening was important. He'd made a lot of plans for it. And Leslie said that she had something serious she wanted to discuss with him. Maybe she was ready to start thinking about them living together.
``Oh, some other time,'' Virginia said with a dismissive gesture. ``By some other time one or the other of us might be run over by a bus. Or my friends might all be in jail because of their political protests and so they couldn't give a party. Or I might look at you and only see some horny young kid who wants to get into my pants.''
``I wasn't thinking of that at all,'' Sean said. Well, of course he had been, but Virginia was the one who was being so aggressive and kept bringing up sex. Why was she accusing him?
``I'm sure you weren't,'' Virginia said with a knowing smile. ``There's something very special about you. Do the other people in your life appreciate that? Does your girl friend appreciate it?''
``What makes you think I have a girl friend?''
``Of course you have a girl friend. A good looking, virile young man like yourself, how could you not? Besides, you said you had a date tonight, and you don't look to me like a fag. I hope she's good in bed.''
Again, Sean didn't know what to say. The fact that Leslie wouldn't sleep with him was a big issue between them. In fact, it was the big issue between them. It had always been his understanding that after a couple started seeing each other regularly, then sex was the next step.
Virginia waited a long time and finally said, ``Oh, I see! You're so transparent! She won't put out for you. No wonder you're so unhappy.''
``She's had some bad experiences with sex in the past.''
``Oh, I'm sure she has. Bad experiences, if that were an excuse.... Oh, I used to use that one a lot myself. You're such an innocent, you don't even see what she's doing to you.''
``What do you think is happening?''
``Oh, you wouldn't believe me anyway. So tell me about the rest of your life. Obviously you're a student.''
``As it happens.''
```As it happens','' Virginia mocked. ``Carrying an enormous book around with you and taking lots of notes. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to see you're a student.''
``This,'' Sean said, holding out the book, ``is not for my classes. I'm only taking the Intro course in Philosophy, but this is much more interesting.''
``Philosophical Investigations. By Ludwig Wittgenstein. Did I pronounce that right?''
``Almost. It's `shtine' at the end.''
Virginia was looking through it. ``There are a lot of very long words. You must be extremely intelligent. And once you've thoroughly completed your philosophical investigations, I suppose you'll be a real master of the universe. Or at least a famous professor, wearing tweed jackets and smoking a pipe.''
``Actually,'' Sean said, embarrassed, ``I'm planning to go to law school when I graduate.''
``Oh really? How strange. A legal philosopher. Or would it be a philosophical lawyer? I'm not sure I'd want my lawyer to be philosophical. I think I'd really prefer to have a cynical son of a bitch who would use every lying, cheating, dirty trick ever invented. Isn't philosophy about seeking truth? I'm sure that if I were ever in court, truth would be the very last thing I'd ever want to seek refuge in.''
Sean didn't know what to say to this.
``I'm sorry,'' Virginia said. ``I guess I'm teasing you, aren't I? It's a little hard to resist, you're so serious about things. But I really do want to understand. You have such an interesting mind, I want to find out more about how it works. I'll just listen, I won't tease you any more. Drink your drink, it will help the words flow.'' She signaled the waitress for two more martinis.
``It's hard to explain,'' Sean said. When he saw that Virginia wasn't going to answer, he finally continued. ``I'm interested in a lot of things. Even when I was young --'' Virginia's smile of amusement made him stop.
``Go on,'' she said. ``I'm really very interested.''
``When I was younger than I am now, I meant,'' Sean said. ``Even when I was much younger, I was always thinking about things, trying to understand how the world works. When I was in high school, I thought I wanted to be a writer. I used to write a lot of things for the school literary magazine. Poetry, stories, essays, everything. That was in Topeka, the newspaper there had a literary contest every year for high school students and I always won prizes.''
He drank some of the second martini, even though he didn't enjoy the taste at all. ``But when I got to college, somehow it seemed like I could never manage to write any more. With my classes and everything else, there just never seemed to be time for it. Then I decided that I must not really be a writer because if I really were one, then somehow I'd find a way to write anyway.
``At first I was going to major in psychology,'' he went on, ``because I thought that understanding people is more important than anything else. But my psychology courses didn't turn out to be what I expected. I kept changing my mind about what to concentrate on, because I've always been interested in so many different things. I was also taking Latin and French. I've always been good at languages. And I think that when you learn another language you learn another way of thinking. And I think that your view of the world will always be very limited if you can only read books in your own language.''
``You really will be a philosophical lawyer,'' Virginia said. ``Oh, sorry, I promised not to interrupt.''
``Language is really the whole key. That's what Wittgenstein realized, that the purpose of philosophy is really to clarify language. People have this naive idea that language, sentences, are just a way of communicating something we call meaning. But the world itself doesn't have meaning, all that exists in the world is shapes and sounds and other sensations. Language doesn't have meaning, language is meaning. And the law is really the prime example of this. When you deal with the law, you are dealing with an entire reality that exists in and of itself, that has connections to ordinary reality but is very different from it.''
Sean went on talking, astonishing himself with his ability to say so much. Usually people complained that he never said very much, but there was something about Virginia that made the words come freely. He realized that he was explaining things to Virginia that he'd never really thought out clearly before even for himself. Somehow she'd unlocked something that he'd always known was inside himself but that he'd never been able to get in touch with before.
Finally he stopped talking, suddenly embarrased. He realized that he'd drunk another martini without even noticing. He was suddenly aware that he was drunk. And he was worried that he'd just been making a complete fool of himself.
``Did you understand anything I said? I realize I was explaining it all very quickly, of course. It took me a long time to figure it all out, I couldn't expect anyone to understand it right away. Thank you for listening to me. You're very easy to talk to.''
``You have very intricate thoughts. I don't think you find many people who can understand you. And what's in here?'' she asked, reaching for his notebook.
Sean grabbed the notebook protectively, then, embarrassed, handed it to her.
But she handed it back without opening it. ``I'm sorry, that's private, of course. I get carried away. I forget that I hardly know you. We haven't even been to bed together yet.'' She laughed, then became very serious and said, ``I was curious from the moment I first saw you, back in the coffee house. You were writing in it so intensely.''
``I was writing a letter to my girl friend.'' `
`Oh. I misunderstand. I thought that she was here, in San Francisco. I thought that you had a date with her tonight.''
``Yes, she's in here, in Berkeley, not San Francisco. But I find it hard to explain the things about myself I want her to understand when I'm with her, so I also write her letters. And I do have a date tonight and it's already late. I have to go. I need to get ready.''
``But first you have to take me home.'' She called the waitress over for their check, asking her, ``Could you please call us a cab?''
Sean looked at the check, paralyzed by the amount they owed. There was too much happening at once. Their drinks had cost more than half the money he had left, and he was trying to figure out how he could possibly take Virginia home and still get back to Berkeley in time for his date.
Finally, he handed Virginia his wallet and let her pay the check.
Somehow not having to worry about counting out the money seemed to
simplify things at least a little bit.
Virginia paid the check, put the change in Sean's wallet and held it out
to him.
``Take enough for a cab,'' he said. ``I can't go with you.''
She kept extending the wallet toward him, not taking any money.
``You're not going to give me to a cab driver to be delivered like a
parcel. I know that you're more of a gentleman than that.''
Finally, she put the wallet down on the table so she could put her coat
on. Sean put his jacket on and walked out the door. Virginia
followed, and on the sidewalk once again extended the wallet out
towards him. They stood that way for quite some time, and after a
while she started smiling broadly and Sean smiled back. It was
becoming silly. Finally, he accepted the wallet, took out a $10 bill
and held it out to her.
She put her hands behind her back. Finally, Sean dropped the money on
the sidewalk. She let it lie there until the wind started to blow it
away. She stepped on it, then picked it up. Then she darted forward
and stuffed it in Sean's jacket pocket. Sean tried to stuff it into
her coat pocket, but she turned away, and he turned with her, reaching
for her pocket, and suddenly he had his arms around her he realized
that that's what he really wanted. They stood there with their arms
around each other, faces inches apart. Finally Sean let go and stepped
back.
I should have kissed her, he thought.
I know that's what she wanted.
There had been something recklessly exciting
about playing so frivolously with money he couldn't afford to spend.
The cab arrived. ``I don't think many people understand what a
marvelous person you are,'' Virginia said. ``I'm sure that your girl
friend doesn't.''
She got into the cab but didn't close the door, waiting for Sean. He
was still holding the $10 bill and held it out to her again and finally
dropped it on the seat beside her. He knew that later he would feel
like a fool for not having simply kept it.
``Your girl friend is sleeping with someone else, you know,'' Virginia
said.
Sean got into the cab and closed the door. Virginia gave the driver the
address.
Sean sat beside her, looking at her, and finally said,
``You just said that to get me in the cab.''
Virginia shrugged, smiled.
``You don't even know her.''
Virginia kept on smiling and finally said, ``I know her much better than
you do.''
``If you know her, then what's her name?''
``Don't be silly,'' Virginia said. ``You told me yourself that her
name is Leslie. Her name's not the important thing. What's important
is that I know her because I'm a woman and you're not. I think that
your loyalty to her is very sweet. You want to believe that she's pure
and virginal. You don't understand that she wants sex just as much as
you do. More, in fact. Women are voracious. If she's not getting it
from you, she's getting it somewhere else. You can be sure of it.''
``She's not. She's not like that.''
Virginia didn't answer.
The cab was going further and further, and the meter was clicking
alarmingly fast. Leslie was going to be angry if Sean was late for
their date or didn't even show up at all. Well, it was her own damn
fault. If she wouldn't have sex with him then it wasn't fair to blame
him for taking advantage of an opportunity to have sex with someone else.
Virginia said, ``Denying you sex is the way she controls you.''
``You're wrong.''
Virginia said, ``You're angry.''
``I'm not angry, but you're wrong about her.''
``Okay. I'm wrong, I apologize. She's pure and chaste and you love her,
so everything is perfect.''
``I don't love her,'' Sean said.
Virginia looked puzzled.
``That's not what I meant to say,'' Sean said. ``You're getting me
confused.''
``So do you love her or not?''
``Up till now I thought I did.''
``I think that you're a very confused person,'' Virginia said.
``Fascinating, but totally confused. You have very confused ways of
doing things.''
The cab arrived at a street in the Richmond district. Virginia said,
``You shouldn't get out. You need to make it to your date in time.''
``I can't afford to stay in the cab.'' The fare was already
more than the $10 he had offered to Virginia back at the bar.
Virginia reached into her purse, pulled out a $20 bill and paid the
driver. They got out of the taxi and stood on the sidewalk. Virginia
said, ``I wish I could invite you in, but my husband will be home in a
little while. And in your state right now, it would not be the right
time for you two to meet.''
Sean felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach.
``Your husband?''
``Yes, my husband. I know that you saw him, back in the coffee house.''
``You didn't say anything about being married.'' He was completely
bewildered.
``I wear a wedding ring. Didn't you notice? Oh, Sean, I'm so sorry.
You really must learn to notice such things. We had a good time
together, though. That's all that counts. And you need to be
realistic. You're a little drunk now and there were some good feelings
between us, but I'm much too old for you. You have to learn not to fall
in love with every woman you have a good time with.''
She took his hand and held it for a long time. Then she reached out
and touched his cheek with her fingers, turned around and went up the
steps and inside her flat. Sean walked down towards Geary Blvd. to
get a bus. But after a block and a half, he turned around and walked
back. He realized that even if he'd been able to make it on time, he
would not go on his date with Leslie this evening.
He knocked on Virginia's door. All he wanted was to ask whether there
was still a chance for him to go to the party she'd talked about, but
she didn't answer his knock.
Finally he sat down on the steps in front of her flat and started
tearing up all the drafts of his letter to Leslie. Then for some reason
it seemed right to tear up all the other pages in his notebook too.