Lovers No More (Ch. 4)

I finally made it to my last year of CK. I was feeling on top of the world. I wanted this to be my golden year. I worked hard to become a senior. I was now focused. I had only one goal: Go to college. I was anticipating nothing short but great things for myself. Musically, I spent my entire summer getting ready for a music conservatory. With Mr. Williams’ help, I had practiced the Hayden Trumpet Concerto until it rang in my head on a daily basis.

The year started nicely except for some talk of an upcoming teachers’ strike. The next thing we knew, the strike arrived at the worst possible time-just as we were completing applications and taking the SAT’s. I wasn’t about to let some simple labor strike hold me back from my goal. In school, I had to make extra preparations to study for the tests. Then, I had to be sure that I was registered in the Mickey Mouse courses that were set up so that the school could tell the diocese and the state that we were open for instructions. There was no band practice. Fortunately, I was still registered in the St. John’s Band. That took care of my experience. Still. I was extremely worried about getting into SJU.

When we did convene for rehearsal, the members of the band at CK came to me to discuss a change in our music venue. They hated the classical music that Mr. Keeler enjoyed so much. The guys wanted to go with the popular stuff. I had a real dilemma on my hands-should I give in and go against the man who helped me get this far or should I stand by him and watch the band grow smaller? I went to him and had a heart to heart talk about what had taken place. I told him that I was going to support him no matter what happened. He said that he was going to stick to his plan. I went back to the group and told them of my intentions. I threw fate to the wind. As expected, many of the original members did not come back. I was so hurt when they left. Didn’t our good times together mean anything to them? Apparently not. Aside from Fred and me, the entire band was made up of beginners. Now, the spring concert was in jeopardy. The one time I wanted to shine and I was being robbed of a golden opportunity to do so. I now had to resort to being stingy. I needed to find something for myself.

December marked the first showing for the band that year. We were booked to play as part of the Christmas show. The show in itself was nothing but a huge party celebrating our senior year. It was my time, the best year of my life, so far. It wasn’t the spring concert, but I was determined to make the best of it. Rose saw me in the auditorium. She came over with her friend, Diane. Then, Rose did the ultimate thing for a guy who was warming up to play—she gave me a big kiss. We were in front of the entire audience. Not one person had any idea of what was going on. If only they knew that they were looking at one of the greatest love stories of all time. They were witnessing happiness personified in the form of Rose and me. That kiss was the high note that I was looking for. It would be the start of great things. That was all I needed. I now felt like my teacher. The real Maurice was now coming to the surface. He was a happy, no, ecstatic individual who found his stride. I went on to play, but I always felt like I was still in Gene’s shadow.

I then decided to turn to back to journalism. Along the way, I joined the school newspaper. I had fun just expressing myself. I would try to write stories and needed the boost from the writing. I remember walking into the newspaper office and looking over the past issues of the paper. I didn’t just look at the most recent issues, either. I looked for the earliest issues as well as any issue that had pictures of the band. I wanted to see what my musical ancestors looked like. I would do this later on when the papers from both school divisions of CK would become one edition. From my first year until my third year, CK was co-divisional. It became coed in my final year. I had so much to learn from looking at the newspaper from the girls’ side.

I was totally fascinated with the clear but slightly grainy black and white photos of my high school when it was dedicated back in 1962. One picture showed a long, long line of people. Many of them looked rather advanced in age. I am pretty sure that none of them are alive to this very day. That’s when I was sparked to study the moods of places. I felt auras, but I am not professing to be a psychic or something. I was just totally in awe of everything. All of this was going on while I was taking an instant liking to Carly. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy to have been born when I was born. I am just curious about what the place must have looked like at the time. I have to be happy because I am happy to have met who I met at the time I met them. Still, the biggest surprise was still to come just a little further down the road. If I were born just a bit earlier, I wouldn’t have done what I have done, at least I don’t think I would have accomplished anything. That is why I am thoroughly happy with my results. Of course, I know that I could have done much better, but so could everyone else.

The newspaper moderator was also my last Math teacher. She was very important to me because she represented the fact that I was sitting in a younger class. The calculus class that I had last year was my only on grade level Math class. Because I didn’t do as well as I should, I was sitting in a very elementary geometry class. I was able to put up with it. It was my last year.

I enjoyed meeting the people that I met. They were the greatest group of people that I ever met. There were Bart, John, Alan, Gene, Joe and a few others. We developed a camaraderie that has never been equaled anywhere else I went. Because of them, I went on to write numerous articles for the paper. Many of my articles were printed. Some, as few as there were, were not. Still, I had fun and it was worth the effort. It made my English classes a bit more bearable. I also ended up taking many pictures. I don’t know what the budget was for pictures, but I know that I must have shot the budget to pieces. I took pictures of everything. I took as many pictures of the school that I possibly could take. It became a habit for me. I felt as one with my school, past and present.

The ice storm of 1974 was an adventure to behold. It was so beautiful to watch yet so treacherous for travel. Nearly everything was encased in the icy crystal-like substance. Something about this storm, however, told me that something more disastrous was to follow if not that day someday down the line. I remember getting up real early and hopping on the bus to be at school on time. An hour after getting into the building, we were told to go back home. A few of us in the newspaper decided to make a day (and night) of it. Fred and I got a few of us together and headed for the bus stop. We saw it as an impossibility of getting on at our natural stop. We decided to walk back one stop to get a seat. While we were walking back, we noticed that each bus that passed us by was wall-to-wall people. I even saw a few where some of the guys decided to ride the bumper, the rear bumper. Soon, four frozen bodies reached the stop while questioning the wisdom that brought up this notion of walking for the bus. We were ready to hang the genius who brought up the idea. I kept my mouth shut. We then decided to walk across town to the neighboring bus line and forsake the present line. Our new walk took us two hours out of our way. What seemed like a good idea turned out to be a self-inflicted punishment for us all. My toes were as numb as could be. We were not very receptive to any new suggestions except to catch the next available bus. I never could stand such extreme cold. I still can’t bear it. We decided that if the next bus stopped, we would get in and stop complaining about the weather. I began to worry about the validity of my bus pass as it was about to expire for the day at 7 PM. We finally caught one. It wasn’t hard to catch, either. It was moving along at a 5 miles per hour clip. On a good day, I could have outrun this thing. After all, I was on the track team. I never said anything about being fast.

Fred decided that this was the time to turn the bus into a rolling party. Fred was able to turn just about any situation into a fun time. That is really a true friend. Here we were freezing our behinds off and he was having a great time. He felt that it was just the right time to get on this bus and make jokes. The party had begun. He had everything that he always wanted: a captive audience.

I didn’t know if it was a good idea to take these weary travelers and try to make them laugh, but we were still trying to figure out who was the person who suggested that we walk this great distance. I shut up about the walk. Instead, I joined in the banter with Fred. I played the straight man while Fred delivered the funny lines. He had better timing than I had. I merely set him up. He followed through. I managed to get my keister to the middle of the bus by the back door. I did, at this point, begin to feel a sharp pain in my toes, a good sign. The feelings were beginning to return. My books, however, looked like rippled potato chips. They soaked up more than their share of snow. Now, I was praying that the school would accept these books in exchange for my diploma. I had sworn that I would not let anything get in the way of my graduation. That’s the reason why I was happy for this trip home. I was having fun. I was also having fun with people that I wanted to be around. I couldn’t imagine doing this with people that I couldn’t stand.

By 6:15, my shoes released the last of the water that was in my socks. I am sure that my feet were smelling up a storm. Then again, the rest of the bus took on a funky aroma, as well. I guess that is why a window was open. I wiggled my toes to be sure that the water was completely gone. My jacket felt like a blanket. I wanted to go to a back seat and request that the driver take me home to my driveway, if possible. I was sure that he wouldn’t honor my request.

Fred was definitely a good friend. Only a friend would put up with another friend’s crazy notions. I remember wanting my own trumpet so that I wouldn’t have to return my trumpet and not have anything to practice. I asked my dad to buy me this trumpet that I saw in a pawn shop. It looked so pretty in the window. To me, it looked just like my teacher’s horn. I figured that at $50, I was getting the best of a deal. I took it home and tried it out. It blew like a stuffy rag. I was able to get a sound out of it, but not without a great deal of effort. I went through my lesson book. By the end of the first page, I was huffing and puffing for air. I dare not tell my dad that I made a mistake and purchased a faulty horn. Now, I saw why it was sold for such a “great” price. I packed it away in my case and took it to band practice for a real test. I let Fred try it out. He, too, had to stop for air. It was agreed that someone was going to die just playing this thing.

I went home later that evening and did my usual trumpet maintenance. I took out the valves and slides. There was no telling what kind of surprises were going to come out of this thing. I reassembled it and blew the contraption. This time it felt the same, only louder. I looked at the finish and wondered when it last had a shine on it. I reached for a Brillo pad and began to furiously scrub the monster. After 10 minutes of scrubbing, it looked fine to me. Remember, it also looked great in the pawn shop, too. I went back to band practice the next week. Fred, by this time, also bought a trumpet. He went to some place in Lynbrook, Long Island. It was so pretty and I wasn’t jealous. His looked as old as mine but it sounded so much better. I told him what I did to mine. I emphasized the work I did on the finish. I told him to try it. He was at first reluctant, but after a half hour of talking, he went home and took the Brillo for the job.

He came back to the next practice. He showed me his horn. The silver was scratched off in patches. What looked better than my horn was now looking worse than my horn. I couldn’t help but laugh at what I saw. He, at first, got angry. Then, he started with the jokes. He never forgot the incident, either. He always made sure that everyone knew who it was that prodded him to do this stunt. He also pointed out how foolish he was to do it. I didn’t mind, though. He was right. For years, he never forgot a detail of the story. It was one of those things that he could just never forget. Neither would I.

I never imagined that this would be a most devastating year. Rose and I would go to a clandestine location and cuddle. I would tell her my innermost thoughts and she would talk about what we could possibly do together with our future. I told her that my plan was simple. I would graduate from CK, go to college, and marry her. She was worried that her dad would not approve. I, on the other hand, was not worried in the least. She then asked about my family and friends. I told her that I wasn’t worried at all. If they didn’t like her, they wouldn’t like me. We were more than a team. We would be inseparable. Things were going very well and according to the plan that I set for us. I simply had the greatest time when we cuddled. She would put her arms around my waist. I would then encircle her frame with my arms and hold her close to me. Then, she would put her left ear and cheek on my chest where she could hear my heartbeat. I would put my right cheek on top of her head and breathe easily. She was so warm, soft and tender. She thought that I was experiencing some sort of health problem. I wasn’t. I was just very happy. As I rested on her head, I would look out to the basketball court where I once stood some four years ago wondering what life would be like in this very building. Now, four years later, I was looking at the court and thinking of a future with the lady within my arms. I would occasionally whisper an “I love you” to her. She would look up, smile with a glow, and say the same to me. We would then glance into each other’s eyes and continue smiling.

With her, my determination was set. I learned early on in life that I was going to be a teacher. I just needed to concentrate on a single subject. My parents instilled a desire within me to attend college. With Rose in my arms, I quietly put the pieces of my future together. We would be the Romeo and Juliet story that went right. Our families might have argued, but they would have come together to help us along the way. My confidence was evident. I wasn’t even worried about school. Musically, I was ready for anything. I felt that I was at the stage of fine-tuning my abilities. I wanted to be a professional musician with a teaching license to fall on during tough times. I wanted her to be my wife. I was ready to meet the challenges of the future. It was January. I was the man of the hour, the champion of the world. She was going to be my friend and partner for life.

I looked out of the window. I watched the train as it passed by on the distant bridge. It was so ironic. My earliest dream involved the train at SCS. Now, I was at CK and dreaming about the train. Where was it going? Who cares? It didn’t matter. I knew where I was going. That was more important than anything else. I was going to move forward in the world with confidence, the same confidence and determination that helped me get to CK. The only difference is that my dream was now complete. She was with me and it felt great. It was at this point that I realized that This was what I was always looking for in my life.

She hugged me tighter from time to time. I wasn’t going to leave her. She would look up, get on her toes to kiss me on the lips. I would meet her halfway and give her my lips. Her words were sprinkled with the right amount of niceties. Often, her sentences would end with “honey” or some other term of endearment. I was no longer jittery at the thought of having a girlfriend. I wasn’t weak in the knees. I was a stronger person. She was my strength. I would let her stand on the tops of my feet for more height. I held her so that she wouldn’t fall. I couldn’t let her go. She knew it. She could have fallen out of a window and not worry about hurting herself because I would have caught her. I was determined to have this year end on a high note. I hugged her again. This was my year.

It all meant something. I saw my life developing into a whole new area. I was ready to enter adulthood. I would go home after a very nice day and see the actress Karen Valentine on TV and she would become Rose without the glasses. I couldn’t help but think of Rose everywhere. She caused me to grin at the most awkward times because I always thought of her. It was love that did it to me. I was experiencing real happiness. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was happy. My friends understood it before I did. They saw how happy she made me. No one else mattered anymore because there was no one else but her.

At this point, I knew that my family would love her. How could they not do so? She was as cute as a button and extremely perky. I later felt the call to marry her. Prior to meeting her, I thought that my altar boy experiences would take me to the priesthood. All of my family friends were as sure as I was. They never knew that she was the one who changed my mind. She didn’t tell me not to become a priest. I felt that being with her was what I really wanted. I gave up my priestly aspirations immediately. This was my moment. I felt the need to ask her to marry me. She knew that it was the perfect time to ask. She was the one. I asked her if she would marry me. She looked at me with the same glance that I saw in the chapel. Her answer was an angelically whispered “yes.” If it were left up to me, she would have started her third year at CK as Mrs. Bernier. If I had to wait, she would have been a Mrs. Bernier after her graduation from CK.

Then, my dark side took over.

She wanted to attend the ring day for the juniors. I didn’t want her to go. I basically told her that she could not have her fun. Why I said this is beyond my comprehension. I must have had rocks and marbles in my head. I was feeling quite insecure about the whole thing. It started an argument. She walked away AND I LET HER WALK AWAY. I still can’t believe that I let this happen. The next day, she came in all dressed up for the ceremony. I wondered why this was happening. Why was she all dressed up? It turns out that someone named Eddie, a guy who was waiting on the sideline, made last minute arrangements for her to be there. He wanted Rose and me to break up. He was just waiting in the wings for this to happen.

I held in what could have been the worst explosion of my entire life. He went behind my back and did this to me. Why? I am sure that Rose and I could have worked out the problem without his interference. This was not right. You don’t do this to someone you call a friend. I felt deeply betrayed. I suppose that we weren’t really friends before this incident, but it would surely be hard to call him a friend now. No, this was uncalled for in just about every circle you can find. It was from this day forward that I would begin to harbor a strong dislike or near hatred of Eddie. Just the mere mention of his name would arouse strong feelings of anger. I needed a way to dispel the anger. This was a simple case of disrespect. I remember how rough that day was when, after the junior’s ring day ceremony was over, I saw Rose, Eddie, John, and Diane hop on the nearby train. They were going to see a movie called “The Way We Were.” I went home to watch TV. I heard the theme to the show “Happy Days” and freaked out. It wasn’t a happy day for me. This was proof that I was feeling low.

I remember reading a book penned by Nat Hentoff about a fictional up and coming jazz musician. He was told repeatedly that he couldn’t play the blues unless he got some dirt on his shoes. I was up to my knees in mud and sinking even more into the muck. My lowest moment was his best moment.

Who was he anyway? He and I were about the same height. He was only as wide as my arm. I felt that I could have taken either one of my free hands and smash him in the head. His voice was rather light in nature. Why no one called him a momma’s boy or wimp was beyond me. I, at first, thought that he was a bit effeminate. I was his academic superior. He was just a junior, a low life. I was college-bound. I was soon going to be a college man. He was still a high schooler. I was already accepted to St. John’s.

During this time, however, an angel—a BEAUTIFUL angel—entered my life. She had a smile that I have never seen on any female in my life. She was in my graduation year, but she was already a lady. I could tell by her walk and her smile. She looked at me and said nothing, I only managed to get a quiet smile from her. She continued on her way to class as I went on to mine. For the rest of that day, I kept hearing a voice inside of me telling me that the mysterious girl I just saw had something that I wanted. Yes, that day, that gal committed a crime. She stole my heart and I was not upset about it. I was so fascinated by her that I never even thought to approach her and ask for her name. I was pleasantly stunned by her beauty.

I was still filled with extreme rage about Eddie, more rage than a typical volcano. Just the mere mention of his name drove my blood pressure up by 200 or more points. Fred would often tease me about it to to get a rise out of me. I wanted to just rip Eddie’s head off and use it for an ashtray. No! Beating him up would have been too nice. I grew to be very distrustful of anyone and this is the reason why. I was waiting for the chance to meet this clown on some deserted road where his body wouldn’t be found. The strange part of this story is that I met my best friend John, a train buff, through Eddie later that week.

To say that I was angry was putting it very mildly. That was like saying that gasoline might have a tendency to ignite. There wasn’t a day left that went by that school year when I didn’t dream of beating the stuffing out of Eddie. I just needed 5 minutes with him—5 MINUTES. I had plenty of chances. I just never acted upon them, thank goodness. Round one.

The biggest chance and shining moment came when we got into the bus to go home. We, at first, sat in the back of the bus. He didn’t like the looks of the people in the back, so he moved up to the front. I tailed him. All of a sudden, he noticed that his wallet was missing. He had it when we got on the bus or we wouldn’t have been able to get on the bus. He wanted to go to the back and see if his wallet was there. He got up and went to the back. One of the guys held it up and put it back in his pocket. It was as if he was daring us to retrieve it from the stranger’s pocket. I felt that Eddie would have much better sense. It was just a wallet. He came from a family who was probably much better off than my family. It wouldn’t have been a problem for him to ask his parents for money. I was hoping that Eddie would just let it go. Eddie again pleaded for his wallet. I thought that i saw a tear in his eye. I had to jump into action.

Of course, Eddie needed a hero. Here I was. I pulled over to me and told him the game plan.

“Eddie, here is what we will do. I’ll take the two taller guys. You get the short one.”

“Sure. Do you have another plan? One that I can agree to?”

“Okay, I could take on all three of them while you run for help. Is that what you want?”

“Yup.”

Well, I walked to the back of the bus with Eddie in tow. Because I had the spine, I talked for both of us.

“Gents, I believe that you have my buddy’s wallet. Now, if you would be so kind as to return it, we won’t have to get ugly on ya,” I remember saying.

“We?” the tallest one said.

“Yup. My buddy over...”

Great. Eddie managed to sneak away leaving me to deal with this situation. My life passed in front of my eyes and even I almost fell asleep watching it. I had three plans to mull over. I could beat the living crap outta them and take the wallet. I could let them beat the crap outta me and give back the wallet out of pity. I could have them bury me with the wallet. No matter how you cut it, that wallet was going to come with me.

Well, I put up my dukes. They put up all six of theirs. Yup, three against one sounds pretty fair. Custer went with that game plan, too. The honor was at stake. I was about to see what a good dental plan covers in a few minutes.

I felt a sharp pain in the back of my neck. That must have been the first shot. I swung. I connected somewhere. Either I hit one of the guys or a passenger on the bus got more than their money’s worth. The fight was on.

When I woke up, one of the thugs was standing over what I thought was my lifeless body.

“You sure fought like a bobcat. My boys and I have to give you credit. You had some fight in ya. Not too smart for getting in our face, but ya sure got guts. Ya came for the wallet. Here it is,” he said.

I sat up and looked through it. It all seemed to be there except the money. I figured that I would give him my money so that he could get home. Ooops. I must have said that out loud as one of those punks relieved me of my change. I didn’t feel like fighting anymore. I needed a doctor. I could have sworn that I tasted a rib when I breathed in and out.

As I gave the wallet back to Lois Lane, I told him that I wanted to talk about Rose. I firmly planted it in his hand. He knew that I wanted him to break up with her as a way of saying thanks for getting his wallet back. He paid me back by saying thanks for the wallet but no thanks for the breakup. The word “sucker” came to my mind. I could have sworn that I heard the whole bus gasp at my disappointment. I was the horse’s rear. He, again, got the best of me. I risked getting beat up physically, but he beat me up emotionally.

Through it all, Bart—one of the guys I met at the school newspaper—was one of the few sympathetic voices around. There were times that I was able to talk to him and share my anger. I must have bored him silly, but he never let on at all. He merely listened and consoled. Others who knew of us—Fred and so forth—basically told me to get over it. How could I get over it? I had to first deal with the anger. Then, I would have to say that I no longer loved her. How could I lie to myself and say what wasn’t true?

I used this intense dislike of Eddie to drive me further on in life. I couldn’t let him get me down once again. Everything I did was to do better than and get back at him. I was, no, I am still the best man. It was this drive that prevented me from really beating the dog meat out of him. All during my personal ordeal, I gave up aiming for the music conservatory. It must have hurt my parents and Mr. Williams a great deal. I am sure that they were happy that I was still going to college. It was a consolation after all of the musical work I had undergone.

My graduation was rapidly approaching. It was almost two months since our painful breakup. I needed time. I knew that with time getting so short and the fact that he would have her all to himself the year after with me out of the way, I needed to pull a rabbit out of my hat. That would be the only way to get her back. I needed something short of an actual miracle to do it.

A few days later, I learned that I was graduating, at last. I worked very hard to reach this point in my life. I figured that this would do it. I was finally going to get my diploma. As far as being a CK student, I was at the end of the line. I was getting ready to make the transition to go to SJU where I had been accepted. I was both excited at watching my future unfold, yet sad at who I was leaving behind.

The graduation took place at SJU’s gymnasium. This place was monstrous. It was a balmy June night. The diploma was now mine. I looked for a very long time at it. It was mine. I worked hard to get it. I worked four hard years to do this. Still, the building had taken on a special meaning-it would be my home for at least four more years. I was getting a chance to see what my college graduation would be like. We were CK’s first coed graduating class. For once, I felt like we were making some history, history that would never be erased.

A few days later, I went back to CK to show Rose, Eddie, John, and Diane what I had. I wanted to hang the medal from Eddie’s nose. I only found Rose. She and I met across the street from CK. I turned to stare at the big beautiful building that gave me a whole new meaning to life. I was sure that he was somewhere nearby avoiding a confrontation with me. I then turned to her and told her I loved her. I then told her that I would never, ever forget her. It was a solemn promise. That was on June 21 of 1974. She told me that she loved me too, but it was time to move on. I reached for her and gave her a kiss. I don’t know how long it lasted, but as far as I was concerned, it didn’t last long enough. I didn’t know what was waiting for me in my future. I didn’t know if I would ever see her again. I had to see her again. I just didn’t want to let go. She must have felt the same way. I stepped back to take what would be a long-lasting look. I noticed that she had a tear in her eye. It was followed by another one. She was crying. My angel was crying. All at once, I saw the girl that I met in the chapel just over a year before. If she only knew how hurt I was at the thought of leaving her. I didn’t want it to end this way. I didn’t want it to end at all. I didn’t want to go home right away. I even thought about tossing it all away to start a life elsewhere with her. I just couldn’t do it to her. We had to go. There was no fighting time. We had reached the moment that we originally looked for. I so desperately wanted to change this outcome, but I had to leave her. Still, I was determined to come back for her. I remembered what happened with Joey and me. I had to turn and walk away. For that brief moment in time, she was mine. There was no Eddie. I was sure that he was in the distance looking at us. He knew not to come forward to do anything. At that point, I felt that I had nothing else to lose except her. Now, I had to let her go. We knew of the rough period some two months earlier. I wondered if I would ever get a chance to reconcile with her. I still loved as much, and maybe even more, than the first day when I met her. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. My hopes came crashing down to earth. It was to be a happy time. I wasn’t feeling very happy.

I got on the bus to head home. For the first time in my life, going home was a painful experience. I mean that I wanted to go home, but not yet. I was missing something, something very crucial to me. I came and accomplished a lot of things; I was just going home incomplete. I looked out of the back of the window. I put both knees on the rear seat. I looked like a huge child, an 18-year-old, looking out of the back window of a car. As the school got smaller and smaller, I thought of the girl in the chapel and what she once said to me, words that I still remember to this very day:

“Love is like a butterfly.

Free it flies.

Captured, it dies.”

Love,

Rose

So true. It was so true. Was this her way of saying that what she and I had would never exist again? Was it really over? Is this the end of the line? I’ve worked hard to find my own true love and now it’s apparently over. No, it couldn’t be true. I even looked back in my yearbook and see these very words. It was the only gift I had left from her. I would never forget her or the words. Just as easily as she came into my life, she was now departing to continue with her life. The angel was being recalled to obscurity. I would, however, never forget her. Me? I guess that I was being told to move on with mine. I couldn’t believe my own words. I knew deep down that I had to do something or prepare myself for a life of misery. I cried for weeks.

Chapter 5: Immaturity Kicks In