Conversation
M.
At a small Starbucks not too far from the Blackstone Hotel, a brisk and businesslike woman met a crisply casual blue-eyed hunk to the delighted and not completely silent speculation of the other patrons. She ordered something large and hideously expensive, and he politely requested something decaffeinated and small. He paid with a bill taken from his hat, and tucked the change into the left front pocket of his jeans. She chose a table, he carried the drinks. They didn't speak; their awareness of one another was palpable, as was their avoidance of each other's eyes. They sipped their beverages and watched passersby through the window.
The visually attractive but silent tableau continued for almost ten minutes. At that point, the brisk woman checked her watch and decided to move the proceedings along a bit.
"Does Ray know you've asked me out?"
Fraser blinked. "Asked you out?"
"This is a date, isn't it?"
"Ah, no. That is, I didn't ... I wasn't ... ah. Well. I suppose I didn't make my purpose clear and it is perhaps natural that you would consider my invitation to be an expression of ... hmmm. Yes." He accompanied this agitated monolog by spilling the remainder of his drink across the table in an amber streak and mopping its trail with a clean white hankerchief.
Fraser's discomfiture was certainly entertaining, but the hesitation and delicate pauses didn't tell her anything she didn't already know. "Why don't you tell me your purpose for this meeting, then?"
"Ah. It's about Ray", Fraser began, relieved. "There are one or two matters that I thought you might help me resolve. Subjects not directly connected to work ..."
Stella interrupted brusquely. "I won't discuss Ray's financial arrangements, you know."
"Oh, no", he replied evenly, "in any case, that information is available from other sources." Privately, he wondered at this non sequitur, but filed it as yet another inexplicable American obsession.
"And why don't you just ask Ray?" His ready answer had caught her off-guard. Baiting the Mountie, just slightly, put Stella back on equal footing.
Fraser didn't quite blush. "I've tried, at least somewhat, but he avoids answering. You've known Ray for a long time. He hasn't mentioned anyone else that might have this information and I was hoping that you would overlook the somewhat personal and, well, impertinent nature of my inquiry?"
Briefly Stella pondered whether she ought to end the conversation immediately. After all, it wasn't her place to be discussing Ray when he refused to answer the same questions himself. There was also the question of what a quaintly polite man like the Mountie would consider 'personal and impertinent'. Curiousity overwhelmed ethical cautions, and she smiled encouragingly into Fraser's troubled blue eyes.
"Ask away, Constable."
"Thank you." Fraser gathered his somewhat scattered wits and tried to find a brief but sufficiently comprehensive conversational entry. "Shortly after Ray and I ... ", he stopped and looked around. It wouldn't do to compromise Ray's cover by saying 'met'. But what other reference point could he use for that same time?
Oddly enough, Stella smiled and rescued him. "After you trashed that car of his the last time? Half the precincts were buzzing about that stunt."
"Yes. Thank you." He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. "Shortly after we, eh, sacrificed the Riviera to a performance arsonist, I helped organize a small party to celebrate Ray's birthday." He gave her a sharp look, one she acknowledged with a small nod. "To commemorate the event in the traditional manner, I gave Ray a small token to mark the day."
"You gave him a birthday present."
"Yes. But for a number of reasons, I don't think he considered my gift very meaningful. That is, in fact, the first subject I'd like to discuss. I was hoping you might tell me something about Ray that would help me choose a more significant present."
"I'm sure you'll have many opportunities to observe Ray and select an appropriate gift next year, Constable." Stella compressed her lips and studied the opaque swirls in her latte.
"Yes, ma'am. But I was considering a sort of 'friend's day' present, for the 17th of the month after next?"
"A 'friend's day' present? Is that a Canadian celebration?" She wondered how Fraser had discovered Ray's real birthday. Probably the same way he had access to Ray's financial records.
"Not exactly." Fraser thumbed one eyebrow. The entire discussion made him profoundly uncomfortable, particularly when it was clear that Ray's ex-wife was more interested in sharpening her wit than in providing any real information. Still, other approaches had been unsuccessful. His personal disquiet was a small sacrifice. "That is, I am unaware of a formal Friend's Day designation. It seemed", he smiled at the opportunity to use one of Ray's pet phrases, "like a good idea at the time."
"Yes, well, I'd be happy to tell you what I know about Ray and his interests, but he has changed a lot in the last few years. I'm not sure anything I suggest would be something he'd still enjoy."
Fraser considered for a moment, then changed tack. "Well, perhaps we could discuss the other matter and come back to the first? It's been my experience, with ... another friend named Ray, that our conversations had a certain flow, a rhythm if you will. A comment on a particular topic from one person would invite a comment by the other person from their perspective of similar events or situations. We exchanged a great deal of personal information during the course of this sort of conversation."
Stella looked at him blankly. Fraser coughed and tugged his ear. "The thing is, I've made some comments that Ray has, well, he hasn't taken the opportunity to present his views. In fact, he goes very quiet and ... and imitates a hedgehog."
Wide-eyed, Stella had to ask. "A hedgehog?"
"Defensive and prickly."
She laughed. "You don't see blond hedgehogs every day."
"Ray's a rare creature in many respects", Fraser acknowledged mildly. For a moment, Stella thought she caught a glimpse of something else in his manner but it was gone before she could identify it.
"In any case, it's happened often enough now that I've identified the topics that affect him. It's families, more specifically, it's the subject of parents. Fathers." Stella straightened, but said nothing. "You see, my father was also in the RCMP, and I refer to him rather often. In a professional capacity, of course, but also personal anecdotes. If it was something that didn't come up a lot, I wouldn't be as concerned."
Stella remained silent, and Fraser spoke faster, filling the emptiness with words. "I'm concerned that my frequent references to my father, in the course of our regular police work, are making Ray even more uncomfortable than he's indicated. Of course, he hasn't actually said anything, and I may have completely misunderstood the situation. But he has told me that you speak to his mother quite often and this led me to believe that you might be in a position to tell me whether there's something I could do to address the circumstances in a way that would be less distressing for him?"
"Exactly what is it you think you should know, Constable?" The cold protectiveness of her question surprised him. Surprised her, too. Ray's troubles were no longer her concern, but the distance she'd sought disappeared as soon as a stranger, an outsider dared ask questions.
"I'm not certain", he replied quietly, aware of her sudden anger. "I'm trying to understand why Ray refuses to volunteer anything about his father. They must have a difficult relationship. My father and I weren't particularly close, but I never hesitate to talk about him. Ray's father, the other Ray, that is, his father wasn't a very admirable man in many respects but Ray spoke of him often. Ray, this Ray, doesn't volunteer anything. The subject causes him a great deal of pain."
"It's the terms of the cease-fire, Fraser", Stella sighed. How to describe her ex-husband's complicated interactions with his parents?
"I'm sorry?"
"You haven't met his family, there's no way you could be expected to understand. Ray is such a complete ... changeling, I suppose. He's unlike either of his parents. No", she amended, groping for a more accurate description, "they all think that ignoring a problem will make it go away. They don't understand him. He doesn't understand them. Everything they do with him in mind is wrong, even with the best intentions. Everything he does for them is worse than wrong. So, they eventually just ... stopped. They didn't stop caring", she was quick to add. "But it became very clear that any time one of them DID something, it was the wrong thing.
"Ray struggled so hard to be himself. I know he only went to college to please his parents." At Fraser's single raised eyebrow, she smiled thinly and confessed, "Well, he wanted to be near me, too. And it was great for awhile. But he didn't really want to be in school. Ray's always been a doer more than a thinker. Classrooms put him to sleep, studying was only an excuse to get together in the library and have a laugh. Eventually he decided to drop out. That raised the roof for a bit, I must say.
"What made it worse was that Ray didn't tell his folks about dropping out of school." Both Fraser's eyebrows shot toward his hairline at that. "I'm not sure I can explain it, but Ray was always doing things like that. I think he didn't want to tell them until he had something positive to go with it. You know what I mean. Instead of saying 'I dropped out of college', he tells them 'I'm going to be a policeman, and by the way I also dropped out of school'."
"That must have been upsetting." This was definitely a side to Ray that Fraser hadn't previously encountered.
"You have a talent for understatement", Stella noted drily. "If he'd thought for a month about a better way to alienate his folks, he couldn't have come up with anything more guaranteed to send his dad into orbit." Frustrated by trying to describe Ray's inexplicable irrationalities regarding his parents, Stella took a long drink of the now-cold coffee and grimaced. "He was always trying to spare their feelings and making things worse. Doing things to please them instead of himself and then disappointing them when he didn't finish or follow through."
"You would have preferred him to disregard their wishes?" Fraser still wasn't sure how this unexpected description fit with what he already knew about Ray from the official record and his limited personal experience. Separating the source from the information was also proving more difficult than he'd anticipated.
"No. Yes. Oh, I don't know." Distracted, Stella ran a carefully manicured hand through her hair, tugging. "If he did things they wanted and DID them, then it wouldn't have been so bad. Or if he'd just refused. That wouldn't have hurt them so badly. But he'd take the easiest way, agree to whatever they asked or whatever he thought they'd want. Then quit, or fail, or forget, or drop out, or give up. He wouldn't stand up for himself, but he'd find some way to sabotage the things he didn't really want to do.
"It was always like that with Ray. You could never tell whether he was doing something because he wanted to or because he thought it was what you expected. It's hard to know where you stand with someone like that." She hadn't meant to say that.
Mercifully, Fraser didn't seem to notice the personal revelation. "And when Ray joined the force, he and his parents stopped communicating?"
"Not entirely. Ray still talks to his mom a few times a month. Cards at Christmas. A check for his birthday. But, as far as I can tell, they don't really talk about anything important. Too afraid to say the wrong thing, I suppose."
"Don't they visit? Or does Ray go to see them?"
"No, Ray stays holed up here in Chicago and expects the world to come to him." Fraser glanced up sharply and Stella instinctively raised her hands in submission. "That wasn't fair. He doesn't visit them, no. And they haven't been here since ... since Ray and I separated." Stella looked thoughtful for a few moments, then repeated, "They haven't come to Chicago since Ray and I split up."
Softly, Fraser asked, "Why might that be?"
Stella shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know."
"I can think of many reasons parents might spend more time with a child whose marriage is ending, but Ray's parents stayed away. You must have some ideas?" Fraser paused as a thought suddenly struck him. "Ray didn't tell his parents when you separated, did he?"
Wryly Stella conceded, "No. But I did. And I told him I did, so he wasn't boxed into pretending otherwise."
"And they said nothing to him?" Curiouser and curiouser. Fraser knew other people saw the world differently, and that judging others by his own code of conduct was generally an exercise in futility. While he recognized that lawbreakers, for example, obviously held a different set of priorities and moral standards, sometimes there seemed to be no reasonable explanation for the way other people chose to treat those closest to them. "His mother didn't want him to move home?" Stella met his eyes, startled. He smiled and looked away. "My other friend Ray moved home again after he and his wife separated. He seemed to think that was normal."
"Ray would have had trouble moving 'home', as you put it. They sold the house right after Ray and I got married." Stella almost snorted at a sudden recollection. "His mom called it 'shutting the barn door'. She seemed to think it was very funny."
Fraser reflected that it was no wonder Ray's divorce had been so traumatic. He had a startling vision of Ray as a sinking ship, with human-faced rats deserting him in droves. He gave himself a quick mental shake and tried to erase the image of a Stella-faced rodent scuttling away. Unkind and untrue.
He hadn't realized he'd spoken the last words aloud until Stella answered him. "I suppose. But they really do care about Ray and I know they want what's best for him. It's just that their idea of what's best and his are somewhat different. I know his mom is a lot more worried about him than she lets him know."
Then why is she avoiding him?, Fraser wanted to snap. It was beyond his comprehension, that people who claimed to care about Ray could show callous disregard for his needs. For his feelings. Fraser felt indignation rise, but tamped it down with a reminder that he didn't know these people and that it was impossible to judge their behavior from a single, biased report.
Stella looked pensively at her watch. "You know, Constable, it's possible that Ray's folks haven't visited because they didn't want to choose sides."
"Sides? I don't understand."
"In the divorce. I love Ray's mom, we have a much better relationship than I do with my own mother. Maybe they didn't want to be here while things were unsettled because they'd just end up in the middle of the mess?" Stella gve a humorless laugh. "And maybe I overestimate myself."
"Your divorce has been final for awhile now?" Stella nodded. "And they've still made no effort to see Ray?"
"Maybe they're waiting for him to say something first. It's a long trip, after all, and he hasn't been all sunny encouragement, you know? Maybe they're trying to give him some space?"
Another incomprehensible, allegedly modern concept. Fraser almost growled in frustration, but his natural fair-mindedness made him examine the possibility that Ray's parents thought they were doing the right thing. He sighed. Wolves were much simpler companions, on the whole. Not entirely guileless, true, but their smiling deceptions weren't the convoluted self-involved nonsense perpetrated by humans on those they claimed to love.
He smiled a small, crooked grin. "Well, you said yourself that they have a talent for doing the most hurtful thing with the best of intentions. I suppose that's probably it." Then it hit him, and he froze, thunderstruck.
Stella looked up to smile her agreement and was alarmed when Fraser didn't respond. She reached out a tentative hand to his nearest forearm and jumped higher than he did when they touched. He shook his head and came back to the present with a nearly audible snap. He gave her a slow, unconsciously sexy smile and she cocked her head in question.
"That's it." He laughed as her puzzlement increased. "Thank you, Ms. Kowalski, I think I've gotten all the answers I need."
**********
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski,
My name is Benton Fraser. I work in Chicago with your son, Ray. Stan, that is. I obtained your address from Stella Kowalski and you should feel free to ask her for my provenance.
It occurs to me that you may think I'm writing to tell you that something has happened to Ray. Nothing could be further from the truth. Ray is well. He would be very upset if he knew I was writing to you, though. He's a very proud man. But you already know that.
He's my friend, and my partner. We haven't known each other long, but I believe I've come to know him well.
Sometimes, between partners, the silences are as significant as the words.
One of Ray's silences concerns you. It isn't really my place to do this, and I hope you'll forgive my forwardness, but Ray has been teaching me about partnership and one of the things partners do, apparently, is take action for the other's good. I understand this in a professional sense, but the personal is somewhat more problematic. This makes an already awkward situation even more so. Perhaps I should just make my request?
I would ask you to consider visiting Chicago in the near future.
I'm certain Ray would never ask you himself, he's very hesitant to make personal demands on the people he cares for. At the same time, he's very generous and openhanded towards those same people with his own efforts and resources. He is always surprised to be treated in kind.
Whatever your decision, please don't mention this letter to Ray.
Yours obediently,
B. Fraser