Back Door Man

Fightertown U.S.A. was made famous in the Tom Cruise movie, “Top Gun” but we were familiar with the Naval Air Station, Miramar, California, long before the movie came out. My Dad was a Navy pilot who received orders to report for a teaching position at Fightertown in January, 1977. His duty station was for three years, so that meant that my mother, brother and I could actually live in a house and not Navy housing. We were going to be around long enough to make it worth it to my parents to purchase a home.

The new orders meant that, once again, we were being dragged from our schools, our friends and our home and transplanted to a new environment. My half-brother, Jeff, and I were suppose to suck it up and adapt to the new surroundings just like we had a dozen times before. Jeff had just graduated from high school, so he was going to college. He wanted to be a chemical engineer so he talked Dad into taking him up to register for the fall semester at UCSD.

My parents found a house on Sierra Drive in Rancho Penasquitos, a newer community just north of the base. It was a two story house with Spanish roof tiles. The house was three years old. Next door was a larger single story house with a big swimming pool in the back that I could see from my back bedroom window. It was a neat pool with a patio off to the side and a big built in barbeque. The back yard looked like a Hawaiian paradise. Our back yard was rocks and dirt and weeds and it would stay that way until I moved out of that house.

When we first moved in, I could hear a lot of yelling next door. It was obviously a father yelling at his son. It happened so often that I learned to ignore it. I tried to concentrate on my diary each night rather than the voices down below. But over the weeks, I began to feel sorry for both of them. They sounded more frustrated with each other than angry. It was if they were talking but not really communicating to the other what they really wanted to say. Occasionally I would hear a woman interject her voice and ask “John” to “calm down” or “Greg” to “listen to his father.” But she sounded sad and lonely when she did.

My Mom didn’t yell, she didn’t say much at all. She once told me I was a huge disappointment because I didn’t want to take ballet or go shopping. She thought when she had a girl that we would share our souls, play Barbies, shop for clothes, engage in girlie things. I knew I had disappointed her, I wasn’t sure if my Dad had similar feelings. He was rarely home, spending most of his time in the cockpit or at the officer’s club. My Mom spent most of her time trying to find the bottom of a gin and tonic.

About three months after we moved into the Sierra Drive house I came home and found my Mom’s room torn apart and clothes strewn around but I couldn’t find her. I called my Dad and he came home right away. I was nine years old and my Mom had decided to run off with the construction guy that had been working on the roof across the street.

My Dad was very sad so he spent most of his time taking comfort at work. My brother was “in charge” of me, but Jeff was usually stoned on weed most of the time. I ended up learning how to make myself dinner, clean my clothes and get myself to bed. But I didn’t have anyone to help me with my homework. I was in advanced classes but I was struggling. We were working on fractions and I was having a hard time dividing a fraction with a fraction. I couldn’t figure it out and I was so frustrated I had started crying.

I decided to wait for Dad or Jeff to get home, no matter how late it was. So I went outside and sat on the front doorstep. My brother was at his friend’s house so I doubted he would be the first one home. He usually stayed out late these days or didn’t come home at all. Dad was teaching the fighter pilots some “tricky” maneuvers and that meant Dad would be late too.

I could hear a guitar playing in the garage next door. The door was partially up and I could see feet and tennis shoes and an amplifier. I listened to the guitar rifts and wondered who was playing. Could it be John? Was it Greg? I hadn’t met our neighbors. I had seen a woman, she was pretty with lovely dark hair. She didn’t look at all like my Mom did. She looked graceful and manicured, like she cared what she looked like. She had a military sticker on her car so I knew that her husband must be in the service. She even smiled and waved at me once. I waved back.

Our front yard still had patches of grass but they were going brown quickly. The planters had weeds and the tropical plants were overgrown. I don’t think the neighbors appreciated our landscaping talents. Everyone else’s yards were cut, mowed, trimmed, fertilized and green. We had become “those” neighbors.

The music stopped next door and the garage door opened up. A skinny guy about my brother’s age stepped out into the driveway. He went over to a 1966 Blue Mustang and leaned on it as if he was waiting for someone to come. He had on 501 levis and a blue plaid cotton shirt. He had shoulder length reddish brown wavy hair. I could only see the back of him as he looked down the street. I sneezed and he whipped around and looked at me. His eyes were blue, this cold, cold blue. He looked at me as if he could read everything about me. He looked me up and down.

“What are you looking at?” He snarled at me.

“Nothing.” I looked away from him and down at my shoes.

A few minutes later a car drove up and he went to the window. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a twenty and gave it to the boy next to the window. Another guy in the back handed him something out the window. The car left and the guy looked around and saw me again.

“What’s your name?” he asked more like a demand than a simple question.

“Maggie.” I said.

“Maggie? Or Margaret?”

“Just Maggie.”

He walked over to the step. “Man when they say, ‘there goes the neighborhood.’ they must be referring to your family. Doesn’t your old man water or weed?”

“He’s working late.”

“What about your Mom?”

“She’s not here.”

“What do you mean, ‘not here.’”

“She left last month and hasn’t been back.” I said, still looking down at my shoes.

“What’s that in your hand?”

“Fractions.”

“Let me see.” He grabbed my homework out of my hand and looked it over. He scowled, “You’ve got this one wrong. It’s a stupid mistake. You don’t multiply here, you multiply this number.”

“Why?”

“Because you always multiply the inverse number in these equations. Hand me your pencil.”

He spent about ten minutes showing her and then said. “Don’t they teach you anything in school? Or are they all as dumb as you are?”

“I’m not dumb. I’m only in fourth grade and fractions are hard.”

“Yeah, well, so is life.” He started to look around when he heard a car approaching. “Crap it’s the old flyboy himself.”

“Who?” I asked.

“My Dad, he commands the Marine squadron of pilots down at Fightertown. Well, you’re boring me, time to go.” He started back over to his driveway.

“Hey, what’s your name?” I yelled at him.

“Greg, Greg House.”

“Thanks Greg.”

I waited on the step for my Dad anyway. With my fractions done, there was nothing for me to do and I was bored.

The lady next door came out, waved at me and then got in her car and drove off. About two hours later she pulled back into her driveway. It was dark but I had the front porch light on. She got out of her car, stopped in her driveway and waved again at me. I waved back. She started to go back inside, looked over her shoulder at me, paused as if she might come over, but changed her mind and continued to go inside.

At 10:30 pm my dad pulled up in our car. “Hey Pumpkin, what ya doin sitting out here? You waitin for me?”

“Yeah.” He gave me a peck on the cheek and I could smell the beer.

“What did you have for dinner?”

“I had a sandwich and some soup.” I lied, I had forgotten to eat but I knew he would just get all upset if I told him the truth.

“Where’s Jeff?”

“You just missed him, he went to his friend’s house.” Another lie, to protect Jeff.

“Hey kiddo, do you think tomorrow you could do a load of laundry? I need some skivies.”

“Sure Dad.”

“Pumpkin, you need to get to sleep, now go to bed. Give me a kiss before you do.” I kissed him goodnight and went up to my room.

I heard some yelling from next door. Now I had a face to put with “Greg” and one to put with “John”. When I would hear voices I would picture them arguing.

One day there was a knock on the door and when I answered it, the pretty woman from next door was standing there. She was in slacks and a cotton top.

“Is your Mom home?”

“No, maam.”

“Your Dad?” She asked.

“No, maam.”

“Are you here alone?”

“My brother Jeff is in his bedroom.”

“I see. Can I come in?”

I opened the door for her to come inside. “I’m Mrs. House, I live next door. My son says that your Mom is gone. Is that true?”

“Yes, Maam. She left a little over a month ago.”

Mrs. House was looking around the room. I tried to keep the house clean but I couldn’t get our vacuum to work anymore. It was plugged up. The kitchen was pretty clean because I had just finished the dishes and wiped down the counter.

“Have you eaten? You look pretty skinny. What’s your name?”

“Yes, I’ve eaten Maam. My name is Maggie Malloy.”

“What did you eat for dinner?”

“A sandwich and some soup.”

“Show me what you put in the sandwich.” She was nice but authoritative. I felt like she was a principal and I just got caught cheating. She seemed like she could tell that I was lying.

“I ate it Maam. There’s nothing left.”

“Maggie, I don’t think there was a sandwich or soup. Every time I see you you’re skinnier. Let me see your refrigerator.”

I took her into the kitchen and she opened the refrigerator. She turned up her nose and took out the carton of milk and threw it out. She also grabbed some of the bad vegetables and threw them away. “Honey, there’s nothing in here to eat.”

“My Dad is going to go to the grocery store when he gets home tonight.”

“Honey, it’s 8:00 p.m. He won’t be going tonight. I want you to come over to my house for a snack and talk to me. Go tell your brother. Ok? Come on.”

“Yes, maam.” I went into my brother’s room but he was sleeping. He wouldn’t miss me. So I went with her next door.”

Occasionally, I would make friends with new kids and get invited to their houses and their homes would look like this, clean, decorated, nice furniture, sparkling floors. I felt funny being there because I knew my Dad would be upset with me. But I was hungry. Mrs. House sat me at the table while she went into the kitchen. A man with gray hair, the flyboy that I assumed was Mr. House, came into the dining room and said, “Hi sweetie, who are you?”

“Maggie, sir.”

“Oh, you’re the little girl next door, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you Commander Rory Molloy’s daughter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sorry about your mother.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He went into the kitchen and asked his wife what I was doing there. The voices were muffled but I could hear Mrs. House tell him that my house was messy, there was no food and no one watching me. Mr. House told her that my dad was doing the best he could but that the training was going late most of this month. She told him she wasn’t going to let me go home hungry.

I kept looking around for Greg but I didn’t see him. A few minutes later Mrs. House brought me out a plate with roast beef, potatoes and gravy, and some green beans. She gave me a glass of milk to go with it. I thanked her and tucked in. It was great. My mom didn’t cook much when she was around so I wasn’t used to having a hot meal for dinner.

Mr. and Mrs. House watched me like I was an alien that just landed in their dining room. I tried to eat with my mouth closed and sit up straight, but they were still staring when I finished a couple minutes later. “Maggie, would you like some more, you ate that rather quickly.”

“Yes, maam, if you have some more and it wouldn’t be a bother.”

She took the plate into the kitchen and I heard her tell Mr. House, ‘I told you that girl was hungry.”

Mr. House told her that he would talk to my Dad. Mrs. House brought me another plate when I heard the front door open and close. My heart made a flip flop motion. I tried to look over by the front door but couldn’t see. Then I heard his voice. “Mom, have you got ... What are you doing here?” He stopped and looked at me with those eyes.

He was standing in front of the table in brown corduroy pants and a short sleeved shirt. He reached over and took a piece of roast beef off my plate. His mother slapped his hand. “Whaaa?” He looked at her.

“Don’t take food off her plate, she’s hungry. What did you want?”

“Do you have five bucks for the movies? There’s a new movie out called ‘Star Wars’ and we’re going to go see it.”

“Yes, but when are you going to get a job like your Dad told you?”

He scrunched up his face like he found the idea distasteful. “I’m going to look next week. Can I get that $5.00 now?”

Mrs. House went to get her purse. Greg looked at me, “Don’t they feed you at your house?”

I shrugged my shoulders. I fed myself when I could find food. I ate lunch every day as long as my Dad remembered to leave me lunch money. Sometimes he forgot. All I knew was that the last meal I had was breakfast and the milk on the cereal had tasted terrible.

“My brother told me he was going to take me to see Star Wars some day. He saw it a week ago and said it was cool.” I tried to make conversation so that he would stay and talk to me.

“Yeah, yeah...well we know what a loser your brother is, don’t we? You’ll be lucky to see Star Wars when you’re old and your boobs are scraping the floor.”

His mother came into the room and handed Greg $5.00. Greg was off. I watched him go towards the door and I heard the door close. “Are you done honey?”

“Yes Maam. Maam?”

“Yes Maggie?’

“Could you please ask Mr. House not to tell my Dad I was here? My Dad won’t like the fact that I came here for dinner, he thinks I fix my own dinner.”

“But honey, your Dad needs to know you need help taking care of yourself.”

“My Dad works hard and I don’t want him to worry about me. I’ll ask him for grocery money this weekend and I’ll get some food to cook with. Please don’t say anything. He’ll ground me.”

“Ok, Maggie. But if you get hungry, you just come over here and I’ll feed you, ok?”

“Yes, Maam.”

 ***

Over the next few months I ate a lot with Colonel House and Mrs. House. Greg rarely was in the same room as his father so I didn’t see him much when I was at the table. There was some real tension between them. But Greg and my brother became friends. Greg liked the pot my brother had and the musical equipment he owned. They jammed together in Greg’s garage for awhile but then realized there were no adults at our house and so they moved the music into our garage.

I watched Mrs. House clean up and I tried to clean our house like her. But I still couldn’t get the vacuum to work. I dragged the vacuum out to the garage to see if Jeff could fix it. There was a haze of dope hanging in the air as they got high. Jeff was laying back on an old sofa smoking pot and Greg was sitting on a stool playing various songs on his guitar.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeff asked me.

“Can you fix this darn thing. It won’t work and I can’t vacuum. Please?”

“Get out of here, I’m not going to fix a stupid vacuum so that you can play Suzie Homemaker. Christ, you are about as dumb and ugly as they come.” Jeff was waving me away.

I was pretty sure he was right, I was ugly, that’s what the boys said at school and I must be dumb if I couldn’t even figure out how to make a vacuum work. I dragged it back inside through the back door and sat down next to it in the kitchen to see if I could figure out why it wouldn’t work.

The back door opened and Greg walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He opened it with a bottle opener and looked down at me. “What happens when you plug it in?”

“It makes all the right noises but it doesn’t pick up any dirt.”

He sat his beer down and opened up the back of the machine. “Your problem is that you need a new vacuum bag, this one is full...really full. Do you have a bag?”

“I’ll go look.” I went in the closet where the vacuum was kept. I found some bags. I brought one out to him.

“Now watch me, because I’m only going to show you this once and don’t you dare tell my Mom that I know how to change a vacuum bag.”

He showed me step by step how to change it. It was pretty easy. I plugged it in and it picked up dirt really well. I smiled at him, “Thank you.” He just nodded, took his beer and went back to the garage.

My brother had a job at the local Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlor in Mission Valley. He waited tables on snotty kids and fresh teenagers who came in for ice cream specialties after the movies. Whenever he left for his job, Greg would stay behind in the garage and play his various musical instruments. Greg had found a job too, but it was only twenty hours a week working at the local ambulance company. He cleaned and stocked the ambulances after they came in for the night. He said that a lot of times he cleaned out blood and body parts. It paid well for 1977, $4.97 an hour. He liked it because it allowed for him to have the rest of his summer days and nights free.

When he was alone I would go out in the garage and sit on the sofa and listen to him play. He ignored me for the most part. But every once in awhile he would ask, “Did you like that one?” when he was working on a new song.

The truth is that I would have liked anything that Greg House played. I had a huge crush on those eyes. Sometimes he would break my heart by bringing some 18 year old girl over and make out in the garage on the sofa. Sometimes I would see underwear on the floor and when Greg would hear the garage door open he would yell for me to get out of there. The girls never lasted long. My brother told one of his friends that it took Greg House about two weeks before he started tearing apart his girlfriends. If they lasted two weeks Jeff would tease Greg about it getting serious.

When the other guys would come over they would jam. They had drums, bass, treble guitar and a keyboard that was humongous. I would sneak in and sit on the floor under some old furniture and listen. I don’t think my brother knew I was there, he was too stoned but everyone once in awhile Greg would look under to see if I was ok. “You still alive?” He would ask.

Greg was teased a lot by my brother because Greg wanted to be a doctor. “How are you ever going to make it through med school? You’re as lazy as I am...and you’re going to have to be a slave to residents and attendings...and so on...how are you going deal with that? You don’t exactly respond well to authority.”

Greg would make a snide comment about Jeff’s lack of cajones, “Yeah, well if you really wanted to be a chemical engineer, why didn’t you apply to Cal Tech or MIT? Oh, that’s right, your Mom got the hots for the hot mopper and now you’re stuck babysitting your sister.”

They would always end up in a yelling match that would be resolved by a rift war. There was no doubt in my mind that Greg was the best musician in the group. I envied him being able to play an instrument. I had wanted to play the violin but my mother wanted me to play flute. I refused to play flute, so I didn’t get to play anything.

One Saturday my brother and Greg had decided to take off for the beach and cruise for chicks. They got into their trunks, t-shirt and zorries and took off. They didn’t know that I had hidden myself on the floor behind the front seat. When we got down to Ocean Beach they parked the car and got out. I stayed down for a few minutes and then stuck my head up. I took off my sweater because it was too hot and left it in the back. I got out and started to walk around Belmont Park, an old seaside amusement park. It was next door to the Plunge, a large indoor swimming pool that sat a football field away from the ocean.

I walked around oblivious to time. I rarely got to go anywhere. My brother never took me out and my Dad was either working or at the Officer’s Club. It was fun being out somewhere new. I loved the smell of carmel corn, the ocean and the sound of the waves pounding the shore.

Apparently when they got back to the car Greg spotted my sweater. “Hey man, your sister must have been hiding in the car...look her sweater is in the back seat.”

“Nah, she probably left that when I took her to school the other day. Let’s go, that party should be fun.”

“Hey, she’s here somewhere. That sweater wasn’t on your back seat when we got in...I would have noticed it.” Jeff looked at Greg like he was crazy. “I WOULD HAVE NOTICED IT. I notice things and that sweater wasn’t there.”

Jeff started looking around the parking lot. “Damn it, where would she go?”

Greg and Jeff split up with a rendezvous point and time. “Here at the roller coaster in half an hour.”

They both looked but it was Greg that finally spotted me. He later told me that I was squealing and giggling as I ran in and out of the ocean, letting the waves catch up to me and then standing as the sand was pulled out to sea around my feet. He said that I looked so innocent and happy.

When I saw Greg I thought I was in trouble so I almost ran away. But he took off his shoes and joined me in the water. He splashed me and I splashed him and we chased each other around in the surf playing tag. About ten minutes later he grabbed my wrist. “Time’s up. We have to get back.”

As we were putting on our shoes he said, “You act like you’ve never been in the ocean before.”

I just kept my mouth shut and looked at my feet.

“Well, have you?”

“Yeah, I saw some pictures where my Dad is holding me at he edge of the water and my feet are dangling in it. I was still wearing diapers so I really don’t remember it.”

“How old are you?”

“Nine.”

“And this is the first time you can remember being in the ocean? That’s pathetic. You’re pretty pathetic, did you know that?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

When we got back to the car, Jeff hit me hard upside the head about a half dozen times until I got a headache and Greg told him, ‘enough.”

On the way home Greg asked Jeff, “Doesn’t your sister go anywhere or do anything?”

“Nah, she’s such a loser that she doesn’t have any friends here yet. She’s in those brainiac summer classes and so she only meets geeks. She just sits at home and does her loser stuff.”

“Don’t you take her anywhere? Didn’t you promise to take her to see Star Wars?”

“Yeah, but when I went the second time with Sam, my Dad said it was too late for her to go, so... her loss.”

It made me mad that he talked about me like I wasn’t there. I told them, “I got to go to the shopping mall with Dad the other day and he bought me some new underwear and shoes.”

“Whoa...now that’s the high life for you.” Greg shook his head like I was crazy.

I could tell he was making fun of me but I didn’t know why.

***

In August, Greg and Colonel House had a big blow out. I could hear everyone’s voices from my room.

“I don’t understand you...you’ve been given a good home, food on the table and an allowance and you do stupid things like this. You’re always testing the boundaries. You shoplifted guitar strings when you had the money in your pocket to pay for them? What were you thinking? If you want to get into med school, you better start acting like an adult.”

“Yeah, like you didn’t do stupid things like run off and join the Marines so you could kill those commies.”

There was a muffled sound, almost like a struggle and then I heard Mrs. House yell at both of them to stop. The house went quiet. The next day Greg spent it in our garage playing the same Hendrix song over and over, “House Burning Down.”

I was in summer school making up some work I missed during the move. As a celebration, the school always took the kids to Disneyland for the day. “Dad, it’s $20 for the ticket into the park and the bus ride. I have to wear nice pants and a nice top, no jeans and they are going to send home a permission slip for you to sign. Please can I go?”

“Ok, I think you deserve it. Well here’s the $20.00, where’s the permission slip?”

“They said they’ll send it home on Monday. We need to return it by Wednesday when we go.”

“Ok sweetie, no problem.”

For the next five days whenever Greg was in ear shot I was in his face. “Greg, did you know they have a ride called the Autotopia? It’s like miniature cars and you get to drive them?”

“Jesus Christ Maggie, I’ve been to Disneyland a million times, I know the rides. If you don’t stop talking about it I’m going to have to kill Mickey Mouse and put his head in your bed.”

“What does that mean?”

“ You know, the Godfather? Man you need a life. Don’t you ever see movies?”

“I went a few years ago and saw Cinderella with my Mom.”

“You really are...”

“I know, pathetic.”

Monday night I brought the permission slip and laid it out on the table for my Dad to sign. It wasn’t signed the next day. I panicked and waited up for him Tuesday night to get his signature, but he didn’t come home. I went to school on Wednesday in my nice slacks and with my $20.00 plus $5.00 Colonel and Mrs. House had given me to spend at Disneyland. But they sent me home because I didn’t have the permission slip signed. I asked them to call my Dad, that he would say it was ok for me to go, but that wasn’t good enough.

I got home at 9:00 a.m. and put my things down. I went and buried my head in the sofa to cry. I cried myself to sleep until I felt a hand on my shoulder shaking me. “Maggie, Maggie May...did you miss the bus to Disneyland? Are you ok?”

I looked at Greg with eyes that looked like they had just cried a river and a lip that was quivering. “Ah crap Maggie May, what’s wrong?” I pulled out the permission slip from my pocket and showed him. “You forgot to get your Dad’s signature?”

“I...sniff...put it ...uh...out for him...to sign...but he ...sniff..didn’t” I grabbed on to Greg and buried my face in his belly.

I could tell he was very uncomfortable but he felt so warm and smelled so good I didn’t care. He patted my head, “Ok, ok...I’m sure you will get another chance to go to Disneyland. Don’t worry.”

After I calmed down, he brought me a coca cola from his house and his mother followed him over. “Oh honey, why didn’t you come over this morning and tell me. I would have signed it.”

“Yeah Maggie May, I would have signed it too.”

“Greg!”

“Mom, I’m 18, what’s the big deal?”

“Mrs. House, here’s the five dollars you gave me to spend at Disneyland. Thanks for thinking of me.”

Greg looked away from me as I tried to give her back the money. “Oh Maggie, that money is for you. You keep it.”

“Look, I tell you what. Let’s take that money and go see Star Wars.” Greg said.

My eyes must have gotten huge as saucers because both he and his Mom laughed at me. “Could we?”

He looked in the newspaper for the times it was playing. I was so excited that I almost peed my pants. I was going to get to see Star Wars and I was going to see it with Greg House.

Mrs. House gave her son a short hug of appreciation and then went back to her house. Greg and I took off in his Dad’s Mustang for Mission Valley where it was playing on the big screen. Even though it was in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, we still had to wait in line for half an hour.

I asked Greg, “Why are you going to be a doctor?”

“The money.” Then he paused, “I love to read about strange diseases and try to figure out from symptoms what people have. I enjoy all the minutia about the human body and how everything fits together as a puzzle. I think I would make a good doctor, it would be fun.”

“I think you’d make a good musician. I like the way you play guitar, especially when you play Jimi Hendrix. I wish I could play guitar like you.”

“YOU like Jimi Hendrix? I thought you’d like disco...or pop.”

“I do, but I also like Hendrix, Cream and Zepplin.”

“For a nine year old girl, you’re weird.”

“I guess.” I paused. “Greg? Am I really ugly?”

He turned bright red and looked around. “Damn, I’m not the best person to ask. I’m not good at telling people what they want to hear.”

“I don’t want to hear a lie. I’m nine, not five. If I am going to be ugly all my life then I’ll just have to be really, really smart.”

“You’re going to be really, really smart anyway Maggie May and that’s not what I meant. It’s just that I’ll tell you bluntly what I think and it may not make sense to you.”

“I’m ready.”

“You’re nine. There’s no way in hell anyone is going to be able to tell whether you’re going to be ugly when you grow up or not. Right now you’re cute. You have a small nose, nice shaped eyes, a little mouth, a pixie haircut that shows off your little ears...and freckles. You’re cute for a nine year old.”

“Thanks.”

I had never seen a movie like Star Wars. It looked so real! I was sure that the star ships had to be real, they moved so slowly through the screen, like majestic ocean liners. I was hooked from the first moment when the words, “Star Wars” appeared on the screen and the crowd whooped and hollered. Most of them had seen the movie multiple times and were back for more. When it was over I had to contain myself from going out and pretending I was Princess Leah. Greg nodded for me to get up so we could leave. I followed him to the parking lot, almost skipping for joy. He was smiling at me. I guess he could see that I was happy.

When we got home I went inside and up to my room and dreamed of Hans Solo, Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader. It was a week before I came down from my high. Whenever Greg would see me and my silly grin he would shake his head, “For God’s sake Maggie May, it was just a movie...”

***

Being around my brother, Greg and their friends was always an education. I probably learned more from osmosis in that garage about the world than I did in school or on the playground. There was one time that I was in the garage listening to the group jam and I started thumbing through one of my brother’s Playboys. It was the one that Greg had taken a really good look at the centerfold. Longer than he normally looked. I wanted to see what she looked like and what he saw in her. She was blonde with really big breasts and ample hips. She wasn’t skinny like me. She liked dancing, skiing and long walks on the beach or nights by a fireplace. Her name was Nancy.

I started reading the articles in the magazine and one was where people wrote in and asked questions about things, especially sex. I looked up and during a break between songs I asked Greg, “What does ‘giving head’ mean?”

He choked on his coke and some of it came up through his nose. They all started laughing at me. I didn’t understand it. Greg wiped his nose and looked at me. I still wanted to know. “Maggie May, I think your brother should tell you.”

“Hell no, she asked you.” my brother was laughing and shaking his head no.

“Maybe I’ll tell you in a few years.” Greg tried to placate me, but I wasn’t placated.

“If you don’t tell me then I’m going to tell your Dad that I was giving head to you.”

Greg went white and the rest of the guys roared. “No, no, no Maggie...that could get me in a lot of trouble...A LOT OF TROUBLE...You really are a pain in the ass. ‘Giving head” is when a woman ...well..sucks on a guy’s private parts.”

My face went red once I realized what I had said about telling his Dad. “Yuck. Why would anyone want to do that?”

“Uh...I’m not sure why women do. Now get the hell out of here, you’ve bugged us enough today.” He started laughing with the guys.

Greg was waiting to see if he was going to get the scholarship he needed to get into the University of Michigan. Those students who went to U.M. were considered first for the University of Michigan Medical School where Greg wanted to go. If he didn’t get the scholarship, it meant he was going to have to stay in San Diego and attend UCSD. UCSD was a great school, but to Greg it meant living with his parents and that was pure torture.

The Saturday that the letter came, Greg’s parents were gone visiting friends in Los Angeles. I was in my house watching some television when the back door in the kitchen opened.

“Jeff, hey Jeff. “ Greg walked into the living room with a huge smile on his face, “Where’s your brother?”

“He’s at work.”

“Crap.” He looked around, he was obviously happy and bursting at the seams, “Come on Maggie May, let’s go play some music.”

I got up and turned the television off and followed him into the garage. He picked up his guitar and plugged it in. He played “All Along the Watchtower” for me. After a few songs he asked me to get him a coke. I brought it back to him. While he was sitting there, he turned on the radio.

“Greg, why do you call me Maggie May?”

“After the Rod Stewart song. You know, “Wake up Maggie there’s something I”ve got to say to you...” He started singing the song to me. I remembered hearing the song somewhere, but I didn’t remember the lyrics. “You’re Maggie May...the girl that keeps the guy from going back to school!!”

“Wow...I wouldn’t do that. School is fun.”

“Maggie May...you are one weird chick.”

A song came on the radio and Greg cranked it up. It sounded old and like something my parents would listen to..but he kept it on. “Cool, this is Frank Sinatra...’Fly Me to the Moon’. Maggie May, come dance with me.”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

“Come here, stand on my feet.” I stood up on his feet and he glided around the garage with me standing on his dancing feet. I was giggling and laughing and he was making wide gestures and huge circles. My first dance with a boy was on top of Greg House’s feet.

“Where did you learn to dance?”

“My parents made me go to lessons at the Officer’s Club when I was twelve. I know the Foxtrot, the Cha Cha, the Waltz and the Tango.”

“The Tango? That’s cool...did you have to bite a rose when you did it?”

“No, that’s only in cartoons.”

The song ended and he picked me up off of his feet and put me down like I was a feather. He was tall and lanky and for once he seemed really happy. “Greg, why are you so happy?”

“Because Maggie May, my scholarship came in and I’m going away to school in January...far, far away!!!” He was grinning from ear to ear.

I burst into tears. I sobbed so hard he didn’t know what to do with me. “Maggie, Maggie, stop crying...why are you crying? For God’s sake, it’s not the end of the world. I’ll come back and visit. Come on, stop crying. Stop it.” I could tell he was getting angry with me but I couldn’t stop. I got the hiccups.

I must have looked strange, sobbing, hiccuping and sniffling. “Oh man Maggie, come on, stop this. If you don’t stop I’m going home and never coming back.”

I tried to control the sobs but the hiccups and the tears wouldn’t stop. He went and got me a glass of water. “Drink this without taking a breath.”

I did what he told me to do and the hiccups stopped. I was almost quiet except for the occasional deep sniff and sob. For the most part I had control over myself. “Maggie...I’m 18, I need to get away from here. My Dad and I butt heads all the time and it makes my Mom upset. I need some space between him and me. You’re going to make lots of friends this fall and you’ll be having so much fun at your new school and with your new friends, you won’t notice that I’m not here. I’ll be home for the holidays, I’ll see you then. “

“But you won’t be playing guitar in our garage anymore.” The idea of my little universe losing Greg House was unbearable. He told me the truth and that was hard to come by in my world.

“Maggie, what does it matter to you? I’m not even nice to you. Man, you need friends.”

But I didn’t make a lot of friends in school that fall. I had two that I talked to, but when I went home I didn’t call them and they didn’t call me. It was lonely but I was learning to deal with it. Greg was in community college getting a few credits out of the way before he transferred up to Michigan in January. So between college and his job we saw very little of him. My brother had started at UCSD and my Dad was working just as hard as ever.

There were those rare moments when I did get to spend time with him. If I heard Greg playing the piano I would sneak over to his house and crawl under the piano while he played. I would put my back up against the piano to feel the vibration. I loved the sound and the feel of the piano when he played. I liked to watch his feet dance on the pedals. He was usually barefoot and in shorts so I would watch his hairy legs pump up and down as his long beautiful fingers floated over the keyboard. It was one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes when he finished a song he would look under the piano to see if I was still there. His mother once saw me under the piano and asked me if I was ok.

“I’m great.” I told her.

“Why are you under there?”

“Mom, just leave it alone. She does this all the time. She’s just odd.”

His mom looked at him and then me and shrugged her shoulders and went back to cooking dinner.

At Thanksgiving we had dinner with the House’s. There were three families and they all had boys Greg’s age. Mrs. House was always good to me and she would give me special projects to do. I got to make the pumpkin pies and all the adults made a big deal over them at desert time. Greg was eating a piece and watching football.

“Greg, I made the pie.”

He looked at me and then at the pie and said, “Big deal.” He paused and then handed me the plate and said, “Go get me some more.”

It was that weekend that heralded some some of the worst days of my life. My Dad had to go to NASF in El Centro for the rest of the weekend to work with the Blue Angels. My brother asked my Dad if he could go to Disneyland overnight with Greg.

“What is your sister going to do? Who’s going to look after her? No, you need to watch your sister.”

“What if I take her to Disneyland with us? Can we go?”

He thought about it, “I guess...” My Dad trusted my brother completely. He gave him $35.00 for my ticket and food. When he left that Friday morning he told me to behave and listen to my brother. I gave my Dad a kiss and he left.

I was so excited, I was going to Disneyland and I was going with Greg House.

My brother put my bag in the trunk with his and Greg’s stuff. I climbed in the back and Greg said, “What’s she doing here?”

“I have to take her or we can’t go. My Dad is gone this weekend.”

“That’s Bull sh!t. Man...”

I was trying to be very good so that Greg wouldn’t be so upset that I was there. “Greg, I’ll be really good on the rides, I won’t scream and I won’t barf, I promise.”

“What is she talking about?”

“She thinks we’re going to Disneyland. That’s what I told my Dad so I could go. He’d never let me go if he knew we were going to a Led Zepplin concert.”

“But what are we going to do with her?” Greg motioned towards me.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all planned out.”

“Aren’t we going to Disneyland?” I asked.

“Stop your whining...no, we’re not going to go to Disneyland...but you better tell Dad that we did.” he was looking at me in the rear view mirror with a mean scowl.

“Christ, Jeff, you told your little sister that you were taking her to Disneyland and now you want her to lie for you when you don’t? Boy, you are stone cold.” Greg shook his head. “I don’t like this, I”ve got really bad vibes.”

Their concert was at 8:00 p.m. but they were suppose to hook up with some old friends of Jeffs to eat and get high. We got to Anaheim around 1:00 p.m. Jeff took us to the Westminster Mall near Anaheim. It was the largest mall I had ever seen, it was huge.

We all got out and Jeff took me to the center of the shopping mall. “Ok, here’s the plan. You stay here in the mall until 6:00 p.m. when it closes. Then you go across the parking lot to the movie theater. Stay in the theater until 11:30 p.m. and then come outside and we’ll pick you up. Just don’t tell anyone you’re by yourself. And don’t draw attention to yourself. Just be calm and normal.”

“Oh, no man...you can’t leave a nine year old kid in a shopping center and then a movie theater...there’s got to be a better plan. What about your friends, don’t they have parents that could watch her?”

“Nah, they’re all living in dorms. Hey, it will work. She’s a smart kid, she’ll do ok. Here Maggie, here’s $10.00 for food and the movies. That should be more than enough. Ok, don’t forget, I’ll pick you up at 11:30 p.m. outside the movie theater.”

“I can’t do this Jeff. She’s nine years old for Chris’sake. If something happens to her you’ll never forgive yourself.”

“Hell, if something happened to her it would be a blessing...no Mom, no friends, no personality. She’s a loser anyway...come on man...are you coming?”

“It’s ok Greg, I can take care of myself. My mom used to let me go to the shopping mall by myself all the time. I’ll be ok. You go ahead.” I lied, my parents never let me go anywhere by myself.

“Maggie May, this isn’t a good idea.”

“COME ON...let’s get going.” Jeff was getting really pissed at Greg.

“Go ahead...I’ll see you, I have to go pee, bye.” I ran off so Greg would go. He watched me as I disappeared down an aisle. I peaked around and I could see Greg screaming at Jeff and Jeff sulking off. Greg looked around and then went with Jeff. Greg was very unhappy with my brother.

I spent the afternoon pretending I was Princess Leah with a big budget and could buy anything in the mall. Of course, Greg House was my prince and I needed to make sure he was taken care of too. I pretended to buy long dresses and nice shoes. I bought my pretend Prince a watch and some after shave cologne. I went from store to store to store doing this until it was 5 p.m. then I went to get some food at the food court. I ordered a slice of pizza and an Orange Julius. I was full. The mall started to close down at 6:00 p.m. and so I started my journey across to the movie theater.

When I got to the multiplex I discovered that there were three theaters. Not one of them had a G rated movie. I tried to get into each one that was showing, Five Easy Pieces, Woodstock ,Joe, but I couldn’t get a ticket. I was frightened. It was getting dark and I was wandering around the parking lot. It was chilly and I didn’t have a sweater. I didn’t know how I was going to spend 5 ½ hours in the dark with no sweater. I sat on the curb and then I sat on one of those bumper guards and then I laid down on one of the cement benches outside of the theater. A woman came up to me and asked me if I was alone. I told her no, that I my brother was parking the car. She left me alone. But about fifteen minutes later the security cops for the mall and theater pulled up.

“What are you doing here?”

“Just waiting for my brother to park the car.”

“Ok, mind if we wait with you?”

“Well, it might take a long time, he has a big car.”

“That’s ok, we can wait.”

After ten minutes they said, “Now why don’t you tell us what you are doing here.”

I told them that I had asked to be left off at the Mall because I didn’t want to go with my brother to the concert and that he was going to come soon to pick me up.

“You come with us and we’ll call your parents.”

They took me to the security office, which was warm and cozy. They gave me hot chocolate and asked me my name. “Maggie May Molloy.” I gave them my home phone but of course no one was there. They told me that they might have to call child protective services...I got scared. “No don’t, there’s another number.” And I gave them the number to the Colonel and Mrs. House.

The fat security guard was on the phone, “Yes, she gave us this number. She says her brother dropped her off and is going to pick her up but it’s 8:00 p.m. and the manager of the theater says that she’s been loitering for two hours now. Yes, take the Westminster exit and we’re on the north side of the mall, the Security Office. Ok, two hours, fine.” He hung up. “They’re coming to pick you up. It’s going to take them a couple of hours to get here from San Diego. Do you want to watch some television? ”

I was hoping it would just be Mrs. House to show up, but it was both of them. Mrs. House ran up to me and gave me a hug. “I’m ok. I was doing ok.” But Colonel House was absolutely livid. He thanked security for not calling the cops and we went to the car.

“Maggie, you are gong to tell me everything and I MEAN EVERYTHING. I don’t want any lies, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I told them the Reader’s Digest version. They were going to a concert and I couldn’t go. I was going to shop and then go to a movie for 5 ½ hours and then they would pick me up. To me it all sounded rational and perfectly sound.

“I don’t believe this...do you believe this? Doesn’t he have better sense than this...and we’re going to let him go to Michigan?” Colonel House was looking at his wife.

I realized that they were blaming Greg. “Colonel, it wasn’t Greg’s fault. He tried to tell my brother not to do it. He fought with him about it. But my brother is the one who left me, not Greg, sir.”

“Maggie, when you’re older you’re going to realize that this is just as much Greg’s fault as your brother’s. Greg knew better and he should have stayed with you. Now we have to figure out what to do. If they come back for you and you’re not there, they may call the police. We need to wait until they come. They told you 23:30?”

“Yes sir. I could convert military time since I was 5.”

“Well, we’ll go get some coffee and that should eat up some time doing that. Are you hungry sweetie?” He asked me.

“A little sir.”So we went and got some food and wasted an hour until 11:15 p.m.

In the meantime, Greg had convinced one of the girls with them at the concert to give him a ride back to the theater. He hadn’t been able to enjoy the concert. He kept looking at his watch and remembering that I had gotten out of the car without my sweater. He got out of the car at the theater, it was 10:45 p.m. I wasn’t suppose to be out for another 45 minutes. Greg bought a ticket to get into the theater. None of the movies were G rated so he wondered which one I would be in. He searched each of the theaters calling out my name until finally the usher started to throw him out.

“Hey man...hey just wait a minute. Did you see a nine year old girl here this evening?” Greg asked.

“Oh you mean the one we refused to let in because she wasn’t 16? Yeah, well she hung around the parking lot for a couple of hours but I haven’t see her for the last few hours.”

From what he told me years later, it was then that Greg broke out in a cold sweat. He ran outside and started running through the parking lot yelling for me. “Maggie come on, I know you’re mad at us, but I swear I didn’t want to do this. Please Maggie May don’t hide.” After fifteen minutes of that, he was pretty sure I wasn’t in the parking lot. He was shaking and he felt like barfing. He finally decided he better call the cops when we pulled up.

I jumped out and ran over to him, “I’m sorry Greg, I’m sorry, I had to call them.” But he wasn’t listening to me. He had crouched down on his knee and was hugging me. Then he saw his Mom and Dad and his face dropped. “Oh, Sh!t.”

His father just shook his head in disgust. “Where’s Jeff?”

“He’s still at the concert, I got someone to give me a ride back.”

“Oh, guilty conscience? You finally realized what a moron you had been?”

“John, don’t. Can’t you see how upset he is? He obviously came back early...”

“That doesn’t make it any better Blythe. He wants to be treated like an adult and he can’t do the responsible thing in the first place. “ He looked at Greg. “You really screwed up this time.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.’ Greg was standing but I was still holding onto him around his waist and he had his hand like a big brother on top of my head.

When it struck midnight and my brother hadn’t showed, we all piled into the car and went home to San Diego. It was quiet in the car. I laid down on the seat in the back with my head in Greg’s lap and went to sleep with his hand resting on my arm.

The Houses couldn’t really ground Greg because he was an adult, but they did take away his driving privileges, except for work, for the rest of the time he was at home. He was also banned from being around Jeff. My father gave Jeff a tongue lashing, but nothing more. I felt horrible about Greg, I felt like it was my fault because I got caught.

It was about a week later that I was watching television and a photo of my Mom and the roofer was flashed on the television with a voice that said, “Woman slain by boyfriend in Kearny Mesa, details when we get back.” I thought I was in a dream but just about then my Dad burst in through the door and ran and turned off the television. He was still in uniform.

“Dad, is Mom dead?”

He looked disappointed that I had already seen something on the television. “Yes, honey, your Mom was killed this afternoon.”

“Who did it?”

“The guy she was staying with...he got mad at her and stabbed her.”

I didn’t say anything after that. Because they were still technically married, my Dad went down to make arrangements for my Mom’s cremation. Mrs. House came over to stay with me. When Dad got home he looked genuinely upset. I overheard him tell Mrs. House, “He must have stabbed her a dozen times...several in the face. I could hardly recognize her.”

“Rory, why don’t I take Maggie for a few days. She won’t be a bother and it’s probably better if she is with someone full time for a few days.”

“Thanks Blythe, I appreciate it. That would be great.”

Jeff was not my mother’s son so he really didn’t care one way or another if she was dead or alive. My Dad was sad for a long time. I was just numb. Being dead was the same as when she was with that guy, gone. I never saw her anyway. She hadn’t bothered to call at all, even on my birthday. I guess it was easy to leave me, but I wondered how she could leave Dad? He was a good guy, nice looking and he was funny.

I went to stay in the guest room at the House’s. When I went inside, I put my bag down and sat on the edge of the bed. Greg opened the door and peaked in. I was numb. He walked in and sat next to me on the edge of the bed and put his hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, Maggie May.”

“I’m sorry too. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for getting caught by security. I should have run away.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong Maggie May...we did. We screwed up and my Dad was right, but just don’t tell him that I agree with him. Do you miss your Mom?”

“I don’t think so. It feels the same as before...she’s gone.”

There was no memorial. My mom didn’t have friends in San Diego and it didn’t seem appropriate for us to celebrate the life of a woman who left her husband and daughter for a murderer. But Dad did let me take the ashes down to the pier on Point Loma and spread them. It was interesting because there were still bits of bone that hadn’t vaporized to dust mixed in the ashes. I wondered what part of my mom I was holding between my fingers.

Mrs. House called my Dad and told him that I needed to see a doctor. I didn’t know I was sick, but she said I was. My Dad came over.

“She isn’t eating and she’s getting too thin. I think her mother’s death is really getting to her. She has to eat. Her pants are falling down and I can’t stand watching her just fade away.” Mrs. House told him.

“Blythe, she wasn’t eating before the murder. I think this has something to do with Greg.”

“You mean what happened in Los Angeles?”

“No, she stopped eating even before that. It was right after Greg got his scholarship and told her he was going away.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you noticed? My daughter has a huge crush on your son. She’s even been having trouble concentrating at school. I don’t know what to do. How did your parents handle your first crush?”

“Oh, wow, it makes sense. She acts strange around him. She sits under the piano whenever he plays, she was always hanging out in your garage with them...I can’t imagine why she has a crush on him. I love my son, but he’s a little on the prickly side for a young girl to worship.”

“If you haven’t noticed, Maggie is a little on the odd side. She can make friends easily, but she chooses not to. She’s brilliant and scores high on all the tests, but she acts like she’s an idiot sometimes. She lives in a fantasy world whenever she’s alone. Your son may be prickly, but at least he’s grounded. My daughter is so ethereal it’s scary.”

“Well, I know how to get her to eat.”

For the next week, whenever the Houses and I sat down for a meal, Greg was there. Normally, he ate on the run or in his bedroom, but he started eating at the table. And I sat by him and ate whatever he suggested I eat.

I heard Greg tell his mother, “I don’t know how you’re going to get her to eat when I leave.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

Christmas was spent at the Houses. I saved up my allowance and bought my Dad a t-shirt that said he was the “World’s Greatest Dad.” I got Jeff a cassette he wanted. I bought Mrs. House a locket. I had asked her if she had any photos of Greg she didn’t want and she gave me one. I cut it out and put his photo in the locket. She really seemed to like it. I gave Mr. House a Padres ball cap. And for Greg, I bought him the piano sheet music to, “Maggie May.” When he opened it, he smiled as if he understood. He gave me a peck on the cheek, “Thanks Maggie May.”

I got a lot of gifts that year, more than I was used to getting, but the gift I loved the best was Greg’s. It wasn’t new and shiny, it wasn’t pretty and feminine, he gave me his old acoustical guitar. “I want to hear some songs on that when I come back next summer.”

That guitar was going to be my lifeline through high school. It would take away the loneliness and it gave me a connection to others who also played music. I loved the guitar and when my Dad offered to replace it in high school I told him no. But I did let him buy me an electric guitar with an amplifier!

Greg left. His Dad and he packed up the truck my Dad had loaned them and when it was time to go he gave his mom a hug and a kiss and told her not to cry. He said goodbye to everyone else and then he came over to me. He took his hand and ruffled the top of my head. “You be good. Eat something and work on that guitar.” He didn’t give me a kiss or a hug. He just walked over to the truck got in and he was gone.

To say I was lost would be the world’s greatest understatement. I didn’t let anyone see me cry because I knew they would start to worry. I made sure that I ate so that no one would suspect how miserable I was. I studied hard in school and brought my grades up. But the effort to get through each miserable day was so much that I didn’t have any energy left for friends or television or anything except my guitar.

My report cards in fourth, fifth and sixth are glowing except that they each say, “She doesn’t seem to have any friends.”

Greg didn’t come back for the summer. He got a job in Michigan and stayed up there. The Houses flew up and saw him once during the summer but of course I didn’t get to see him. The next time I saw him was Thanksgiving.

“Maggie May! You’ve grown!” he put one arm around my shoulder from the side and gave my shoulders a quick squeeze.

“You have a beard.”

“Yeah, do you like it?”

“It’s pretty full, isn’t it? I guess it’s ok.” I was ten years old and didn’t appreciate what it takes to grow a full beard. His beard was about two inches long but well trimmed. His blue eyes were highlighted by all of the reddish brown hair.

I spent the Thanksgiving secretly keeping tabs on Greg House. When he left to go back to school I got a tussled hair thing and a quick goodbye. “See you at Christmas.”

But we didn’t see him at Christmas. He went skiing with some friends instead of coming home. I didn’t see him again until the following Thanksgiving when I was eleven. He didn’t have a beard or long hair. He was strikingly handsome.

“What happened to all your hair?” I asked.

“I’m interviewing for Medical Schools. I need to look the part..”

At the beginning of 1980 my brother had been accepted at Cal Tech for their doctorate program. I was glad to be rid of him. He was bitter, mean and a slob. I constantly had to pick up after him and wash his clothes. I stayed with the Houses while my Dad drove Jeff and his crap up to Cal Tech. Colonel House had retired and they were doing a lot of traveling, but they were home this weekend and agreed to watch me.

That night there was a knock on the door. I heard Colonel House open the door and ask, “What can I do for you officers?” Mrs. House and I looked at each other when we met in the hall. Police? My God, had something happened to Greg? We both hurried towards the front door.

“Oh, oh no...oh my God that poor girl.” Colonel House sounded devastated and heartbroken. Mrs. House must have realized when she heard him say, “poor girl’ that it had something to do with me because she grabbed me and held me still so that I wouldn’t go to the door.

The police left and Colonel House closed the door and looked at me then Mrs. House and then me again.

“John, what is it?’

“Maggie, honey, it was very bad news. Oh dear, this isn’t easy. Maggie, a large truck lost its brakes on the freeway and hit your Dad head on. Both he and your brother are gone:”

Mrs. House drew in a breath and shuddered, “Oh my God.” She clutched me tightly to her. I was stunned.

“Gone?”

“Dead.”

“Oh.”

Surprisingly, I didn’t cry at first. I was too much in shock. I was silent most of the time and I started to lose weight again. My Dad was cremated and his ashes were interred at Fort Rosecrans. My brother’s ashes were spread out at sea. To a twelve year old, the ritual of death seemed to go on forever. People fawned over me and made tsk, tsk sounds and tried to tell me platitudes about my family. I didn’t find that comforting. I finally broke down at the reception the Houses gave.

I yelled at a woman who had told me that my family was in a better place, “Well, tell me, if my entire family is in a better place then why didn’t they take me? Why did they leave me behind if they were going somewhere so good?” I had started crying for the first time. Mrs. House was crossing the room towards me when I felt long fingers on my shoulder.

“They left you behind to torment us.” It was Greg.

I turned and hugged him. By now I had grown enough that I was level with his breast bone. He hugged me back. Later when everyone left I laid down on the couch, put my head in his lap and went to sleep. It was the first time I had felt safe since my Dad had died.

***

After my Mom died, my Dad had redrafted his will making the Houses my guardians. The court approved it with little fanfare. I had family but they were distant cousins who lived in Pennsylvania. I wanted to stay in California with the Houses. They seemed like family to me. I told the court this during the hearing and so the judge brought down the gavel and it was so.

There was a lawsuit against the trucking company. I was kept out of it for the most part except that I had to give a deposition. After my deposition the case settled for what Mrs. House said was, “Quite a chunk of money for someone to get when they’re 18.”

The reception was the last time I saw Greg House for six years. He had excuses for his parents at every holiday. Sometimes they would fly to see him but he didn’t bother to come home. When he graduated from Michigan University he didn’t walk, he told his parents it was a waste of money and time.

I didn’t miss Greg as much in junior and high school because there was so much to do to get ready for college. I also made friends in high school because of my guitar playing. I had brought it to school to give a presentation of old English folk songs. We were studying the history of 18^th and 19^th century England. Some of the kids in school who also played guitar came up to me. Within a few minutes we had bonded. I joined a rock band and played electric guitar. We called ourselves the “Morons.” I loved the name, it sounded cool. When someone asked, “Are you morons?” We could answer sincerely, “yes.” We were good and played several events. I was the only girl in the band and the guys all felt it was their duty to protect me. A couple of them had major crushes on me, but I was oblivious to the attention of males. I didn’t think I was attractive so I didn’t believe the flattery some of the guys heaped on me. I thought they would do anything to make you have sex with them. So I ignored them. Unfortunately, I ignored them so well that I had no one to go with to the prom. Our band was playing the first half of the prom so I had to go. I was a little embarrassed when I was asked where my date was because I didn’t have one. In fact, I overheard some of the girls making fun of me in the bathroom because I didn’t have a date. She doesn’t have a date because she’s so “weird.” I didn’t care, I would be out of high school soon and these girls would be a thing of the past.

I graduated as Valedictorian and had to give a speech. I had originally written it with some very cutting jokes about the cliques in school and a scathing criticism of the immaturity of most of the people in high school. But when I practiced it , I saw a horrified look on Blythe’s face so I knew I had to rewrite it. I toned it down and she let out a deep sigh of relief. John and Blythe had asked me to call them by their first names when I turned sixteen. They had been incredible to me. I loved both of them dearly. I had been a horrible teen but they didn’t seem to think so. They said I was a piece of cake after Greg. I received a graduation card from Greg. His mom was genuinely surprised that I got anything since he typically blew those things off.

My money, which had been placed in a locked account until I was 18, was ready to be disbursed to me. Blythe and John took me to meet with the financial advisor. I was shocked to find that with the life insurance and settlement, I had 2.2 million dollars to my name. I decided to invest all but $200,000 in long term investments. I was going to use the $200,000 to buy a new car, sundries and pay for tuition at the University of my choice. With my grades and my money, I could write my dance card anywhere. I decided I wanted to major in English at Georgetown University.

It was just about the same time that I was graduating that we learned Greg was going to do his residency at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Housing was tight so Greg had leased a three bedroom house about half an hour south of the hospital. I was having trouble getting housing back east too. The dorms were full and the Houses were very worried that I would end up in a bad neighborhood since we weren’t familiar with the D.C. area. I was on the list to get first choice of dormitory space the spring semester, but for fall I had to fend for myself. Blythe insisted that Greg rent a room to me. His house was half an hour from campus and since it would only be for one semester, it seemed ideal. Judging from Blythe’s end of the conversation, he wasn’t agreeing to it. But she wore him down and he gave in to his mom because after all, .it was only for a few months.

***

Blythe was crying and John was choking up when I waved goodbye to them at the airport and walked through security. I felt like I was starting a whole new life and leaving my childhood behind. The Houses had been my rock and my soft place to land. They had been both kind and stern when I needed it. It took a lot to take in a twelve year old with all of my baggage and raise her. I just hoped that I could make them proud of me.

I wasn’t happy about staying with Greg. He was 27 now and I’m sure he thought he was going to be babysitting me. In his mind I was still twelve. I was only 18 but I wasn’t the cute pixie-cut little girl anymore. I had changed. Most of the girls at my high school had perms and lots of makeup. I had shoulder length light blonde hair, no perm and I wore a minimum amount of makeup. I wore jeans a lot and cotton shirt or t-shirts. I was 5'4", 117 lbs. and most guys I met told me I was very attractive. I still didn’t see it.

I arrived in Washington D.C. and rented a car. I had to go to one of the local “rent a wrecks” because I was so young and the big chains wouldn’t lease to me. I had flown in a month before classes started to get my bearings. I had decided to use the rental until I could buy one. I found Piney Woods Drive on the map I was given and I was on my way. I was hoping that Greg would be home. It was close to 7:00 p.m. Greg had told us he had the day off and would be home when I got there. I drove up the street and found the address. It was hot as hell. I was used to heat but not humidity. The house was wood-framed and probably forty years old. It was in fairly good shape with a nice front porch and storm doors that hadn’t been removed for the summer.

I was nervous. I didn’t know what to expect out of him and that made me anxious. I pulled my two suitcases up the steps to the front door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again. No answer. I tried the door knob and it was open. I opened the door and brought the two cases inside. I looked around. The place was very quiet. I walked down the hall and opened a door and jumped back. Greg was sleeping on his back and there was a woman next to him also asleep, they were both naked. I ran back down the hall and I must have made a lot of noise because a few minutes later a very tired Greg House yelled, “Maggie? Is that you?”

“Yes Greg.” My voice cracked.

The door opened and he walked out to the living room in his boxers. He was over six feet and he had fleshed out a little with nice defined muscles, no fat. And judging from what I saw in bed, he had fleshed out down there too. Greg House was hot and I was going to be living with him for four months.

He stopped in his tracks and did a double take, “Whoa, you’re all grown up. Jesus, when did you develop that body? I was going to hug you but that might lead to something embarrassing so let me just say, your room is down the hall opposite of mine. I just got off of a 72 hour rotation so I was getting some sleep.”

The woman came out to the living room in her bra and panties. She stood next to House and waited for him to do introductions. “Maggie, this is ...Mandy?”

“Cheryl. My name is Cheryl. Glad to meet you. I work with Dr. House at the hospital.”

I was taken back having forgotten that Greg was now a doctor. Cheryl went into the kitchen to get some water and I looked at Greg. “You had sex with her and you don’t know her name?”

“I ...hey, we were at a bar, she came on to me and I brought her home and screwed her. Welcome to the 80's.”

“Haven’t you heard of that new disease, AIDS?”

“Are you my mother?”

I shut my mouth, grabbed my suitcases and went to the back where my room was. I opened the door and there was nothing in the room. “Greg? Where am I suppose to sleep?”

“I told Mom it was an unfurnished room. The couch is pretty comfortable if you sleep at the end with the grape stain on it.”

I walked out to the living room and Greg was hunched over Cheryl, giving her a deep sexual kiss. This wasn’t going to work. It reminded me of those days that he would kick me out of the garage. I walked past him and into the kitchen. It was a cute kitchen with a table in the middle. Of course I couldn’t find anything in the cabinets to cook or eat. I walked back out and they were obviously back in his bedroom. I could hear them through the walls. She was screaming, “Oh Greg, oh Greg.” A minute later I heard Greg, sounding like he was in pain screaming, “Oh God, Oh God” and then it was silent.

I couldn’t believe what I had gotten myself into. I sat down on the couch and looked around. I was in a one man Frat house. I grabbed my keys and purse and took off. I was going grocery shopping. I found a Super Walm@rt that was open and bought a blow up bed, some linens, a pillow, some nice pots and pans, a tea kettle and then some groceries. My stuff from home was being shipped and should arrive any day. I had shipped them a week before I left. I got back and Greg was on the couch, alone, drinking a beer and watching television.

“Help me get the bags in.” I told him.

“You ARE my Mom.” He got up and went outside in his boxer shorts and brought in some of the bags.

“Put on some clothes before you go out there again.”

“Are you going to nag me the whole time you are here?”

“Depends, are you going to act like a frat boy the whole time I’m here?”

“I liked you better when you were a pathetic nine year old. Now you’re a hot mean 18 year old.” He went back out and brought in the rest of the bags.

I was putting things away in the kitchen when he came in and sat down at the table. He watched me like I was performing some Olympic event. I finally turned around and looked at him. We stared at each other.

“I still can’t believe how gorgeous you turned out. God, you must have had boys hanging off of you in high school.”

“Greg, I always expect you to tell me the truth. Please don’t start lying now.”

“What do you mean?” He was clearly confused.

“I know you’re exaggerating.”

“How beautiful you are? I’m not exaggerating, I wouldn’t do that. Hasn’t anyone told you before?”

“Yes, but you know how guys will do anything...”

“To get in your pants? Boy if you were older, I’d stand in line. Maggie, you are gorgeous, enjoy it. Rarely does someone get the trifecta, brains, beauty and personality.”

“How do you know I have a personality?”

“Hmm, you may have something there. I have to go back to the hospital in the morning. I should get off and be home around 8:00 p.m.’

“Why so late?”

“Nature of the beast. Part of doing your residency. But then I have two days off in a row. I can show you around.”

“Sounds good, now do you want a sandwich?”

“Sure.”

I made him a sandwich, cut up some fruit and poured him some milk. He ate and drank it all and then belched. Since belching contests between Greg and my brother had been a common occurence, this did not surprise me. I washed up and sat down with him to watch some television. At no time did he even bother to get up and put any clothes on. I was amused because I was sure that little gap in the front of his boxers was going to open up and I’d get another view of the family jewels, but luckily for me it didn’t.

The next day he was already out the door when I got up. I took a look around, I went in and stripped Greg’s bed. It was worn and lumpy, obviously it had been a hand-me down because it was as old as God. There were books everywhere, just laying around. I went shopping.

I found a road where there were several furniture stores in a row. I bought a couch with a fold out bed for the living room. It was a nice short taupe velveteen with Scotchguard and it was incredibly comfortable. I got Greg a recliner made out of brown leather. I bought two lamps, one a floor lamp for reading, the other a beautiful ginger jar with a gorgeous taupe and black marbling. I bought a 27 inch Sony Trinitron and a stand for it. I purchased six book shelves made of maple wood and stained a reddish brown, two for Greg’s room, two for mine and two for the living room. I bought two full beds, one for me and one for Greg. I bought a chest of drawers, a night stand and a headboard to match it. I picked up some drapes for my room and I went to a linen store and bought nice sheets for my bed. I figured Greg could have the ones I just bought for the blow up bed. Everything was going to be delivered in four days. I had a hard time convincing the store that my credit card was good. Not too many 18 year olds walk in and buy $10,000 worth of furniture and televisions.

I drove by the car lots and thought that I would buy a Honda Civic. They were reliable and they got good gas mileage. I pulled into the lot and looked around. Of course a car salesman immediately approached me with a phoney smile. I didn’t feel comfortable haggling with him. I was too young and I knew nothing about making a big purchase. Maybe Greg could help me. I looked at the car, got brochures and noted the best price the guy gave me. I got back to the house around 6:00 p.m., called Blythe and John to let them know I was well. We talked for awhile and when John got off the phone, Blythe asked me all kinds of questions about Greg. I told her that he was incredibly handsome, healthy and as cocky as ever. She laughed.

“At least he’s met his match.”

“What do you mean?”

“He won’t be able to run rings around you. I’ve never seen a more mature 18 year old in my life.”

“I’d like to think I can stand up to him, but he is Greg.”

“Give him a big kiss and a hug for me. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

I went in and started making beef stroganoff and pasta. I also made a salad.

Around 8:30 p.m. he pulled into the driveway. He walked in wearing surgical scrubs and flopped on the couch. He looked very tired. I came out and brought him a cold beer. He looked up at me and grabbed the beer.

“Dinner is served master.” I gave a little bow.

He picked himself up and went into the kitchen and sat down. I dished out the pasta and put the stroganoff on top. He grabbed the salad and put some on his plate. We ate in silence but we kept looking up at each other until finally he started grinning and then with a full mouth he said, “What??”

“How did it go today?”

And then the floodgates opened. He described every patient he saw, down to the color of their nails and tongues. He was on a high, he loved trying to figure out what was wrong with people. He was doing a residency in the Infectious Disease department.

“Do you want some more?”

“Mmm...” he held out his plate for her to fill it up. “I recognize this, it’s my mom’s recipe.”

“Yep.”

“Cool, I have a repackaged mother. My mom, her attitude, her recipes, her nagging, but all in a hot 18 year old body. Wow!” He was making faces and laughing at me.

I cleaned up and we watched a movie on television. Afterwards, I went to bed and he stayed up to watch something else. I woke up in the morning and took a walk around the neighborhood before it got too hot. It was, I assumed, a typical neighborhood with wood-framed and brick homes. None of the homes were made of stucco like in California. I vaguely remembered living in a brick house in Norfolk, Virginia when I was five. The homes here all had much larger yards than in California. It was a nice neighborhood. It surprised me that Greg had picked it, but then when he told me what he paid in rent, I realized it was cheap and that appealed to him. Greg had a funny way of looking at money. He scrimped on the everyday things to buy himself the best toys or the best time.

I went home and Greg was up in his boxers walking around the kitchen, yawning, scratching his genitals and making coffee. If I hadn’t been raised with a brother it might have disturbed me, as it was, it seemed normal. I made tea for myself.

“I need to buy a car, can you help me?”

“You need money? I thought you were loaded?”

“No, I meant I need for you to help me negotiate a good deal for a car. I want to get a Honda Civic or even a Toyota Corolla.”

“Whimp. Those are girlie cars.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I am a girl.”

“God, with those hips, how can I forget it? Yeah, we can swing by and buy you a car.”

We spent the entire morning buying a car. I got a blue Honda Civic with a cassette deck and Fischer speakers. Greg’s sarcasm and bluntness helped me get a great deal. I got to drive the car off the lot. Actually, Greg drove it and I drove the rental back to the airport to turn it in. Then we went down to Washington D.C. and walked the Georgetown area.

“Man, you are something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every guy who has walked by has been eyeing you up an down and you’re blind to it all.”

“ I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I just love watching men watch you. It’s rather funny. One guy just barely missed a telephone pole.”

“Oh be quiet. You are annoying me. ”

We had dinner and then saw a movie, Platoon. Greg slumped down in the chair and gobbled down the popcorn. I got a few handfuls but that was it.

It was great talking to him. We had adult discussions about lots of issues. Greg disagreed with almost all of my opinions, but I held firm against his tirade of personal insults. During the conversation I was called an idiot, a moron, imbecile and piece of fluff. But I didn’t let it bother me, it was just Greg.

We got home around 9:00 p.m. and Greg called someone. It must have been a woman because he asked her to stay in the hot tub, he’d be right over. He went to his room, got some clothes and on his way out he said, “Don’t wait up, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget the condoms...remember AIDS.”

“Go to bed Mom.”

***

He came back to the house around noon. I had spent most of the morning cleaning the house up and straightening Greg’s closet. “Jesus, how am I suppose to find anything now? Leave my stuff alone.” He seemed genuinely mad at me.

“Bite me.”

He jerked his head back as if he hadn’t quite heard me and then smiled. “You have a mouth on you.”

“Yeah, and you think with your dick.”

He started laughing. “Can’t argue with that.”

Greg told me not to expect him home for a few days because he had a 36 hour rotation and he would be at the hospital. The furniture arrived a few hours after Greg left. I had them haul away the old couch and bed. When I looked around I realized that there was no art work and that we needed living room tables and rugs for the hardwood floors.

I made my bed and then went to make Greg’s. If the last few days were any measure, this bed was going to get a workout. I looked around and found a framed photo of the Houses stuck in his bottom drawer. I took it out of his drawer and put it in my room. At the bottom of the top drawer was a photo of Greg and I taken at Thanksgiving when I was eleven. He looks like the big brother that Jeff never was to me. I took that photo too and bought a frame for it. I put it on his dresser and waited to see if he noticed it.

After I went on my second spending spree, I was happy with the way the house looked. It looked like a home. I wondered what Greg was going to say. I was willing to be that it wouldn’t be pretty, he wasn’t a positive kind of guy.

When he pulled into the drive I had just finished eating a small plate of the spaghetti I made. He got out with a bag of dirty clothes and came in...he took one look, stepped back outside and then came back in...

“What the fu....”

“Shut up, there’s spaghetti on the stove and garlic bread in the oven.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“I bought some furniture I could live with. I’m going to leave most of it with you when I move into the dorm so don’t get your shorts in a bind.”

“And you think I want all of this?”

“Not today, not tomorrow, but in four months you will. Do you want spaghetti or not?”

He was silent and started to walk down the hall, when the door opened there was a string of expletives and some banging around. I got up, went into the kitchen and put some spaghetti on a plate, poured the sauce over it, topped it with an Italian sausage, put some Italian green beans on the side and cut off a piece of garlic bread. By the time he got back out to the kitchen he was still fuming but the expletives had run their course.

“How was work?” I asked as he got a beer out of the refrigerator and sat down to eat. He gave me the silent treatment. “Look, don’t make me get tough with you, I know where you’re ticklish Greg House.”

“Not anymore. I’m tough now.”

“Yeah, and I’m gorgeous.”

He rolled his eyes. His mouth was full of garlic bread. He continued to eat like there was no tomorrow. I sat down with a diet coke and watched him eat. “Any dengue fever?”

He gave a quick laugh. “I’m mad at you.”

“But your furniture was crap, your bed was a lump.”

“But I didn’t have to worry about it, I didn’t care if it got dirty or wrecked. I hate change.”

‘You’ll get used to it.”

“For an 18 year old you have a real attitude. It’s not attractive. Did you inherit this from your Mom, was she a b!tch?”

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, my childhood wasn’t exactly warm and cozy...I’ve had to toughen up myself. I’m a one man family. You have your parents to fall back on if something happens.”

“My parents love you more than they do me. At least my Dad does.”

“You, Greg, are an idiot. You wouldn’t believe how often I hear your Dad bragging about his son the doctor. He loves you dearly, he just doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t understand how a guy with everything becomes so bitter and unhappy.”

“Your cooking.”

“What?”

“Your cooking makes me bitter and unhappy. Can you get me another plate.”

I got him his spaghetti and then went into the living room to finish watching, “Saturday Night Fever” on television. After he got his shower he came out and sat on the couch with me.

“I bought you something for your birthday.”

“My birthday was two months ago. Maggie, you need to spend some of that money on yourself, buy yourself some new clothes, the ones you wear don’t do you justice.”

I went into my room and brought out a box for him. He opened it and smiled. “Wow a cd player. Thanks. And thanks for dinner, even if it did give me heartburn.”

Compact disks had only been around a few years and the cost to purchase one was still on the high side, but I knew that Greg would appreciate the quality of music on the CDs. At least it was much better than cassettes.

I gave him another package all wrapped in birthday paper. “You need some CDs to go with that.”

There were six CDs. One was Rod Stewart’s, “Every Picture Tells a Story” album, Hendrix’s “Are You Experienced.” Frank Sinatra’s Greatest Hits, Muddy Waters, Mick Jagger’s new album and a collection of classical pieces.

He reached over and gave me a friendly peck on my cheek, “Thanks.”

We hooked up the stereo, or I should say, I hooked up the stereo. We listened to each album and I made Greg put on headphones so he could hear just how clear the disks were.

“Oh man, I can hear the conductor’s baton on the podium. Wow.”

During the week I spent most of my time cleaning house, cooking, doing laundry and getting to know Washington D.C. I spent time in the Smithsonian, the mint, the FBI building and Shakespeare Museum. I took a tour of the White House. When I got home I always had something interesting to tell Greg. He would tell me about his patients. We got along very well. He did mention that he wanted to get in another boarder to help pay the lease. I didn’t object, I would have enjoyed the company for when Greg was on rotation. But he never quite got around to it, I think he liked things the way they were. I was his own personal maid.

It was the end of the summer and I was going to start school on Tuesday. Greg came home and asked, “Do you want to go to a Labor Day picnic with some of the people I work with? I’m going to take a date, but it would be a good thing for you to go to, you’d meet some new people. It’s going to be at one of the doctor’s house, they’ll have a pool, volley ball, drink and food. ”

“Doctors?”

“Yeah, mostly doctors... young doctors. This is the best time to get your clutches into them, they won’t even think to ask for a pre-nup. By the time you get a divorce, he’ll be rolling in money and you can get alimony.”

“You forget that money isn’t one of my worries.”

“That’s true. Well come anyway, you’ll enjoy yourself, it’s Saturday.”

I went out to buy myself something new to wear to the picnic. I walked into Macy’s and asked the woman to help me pick out something that, “...did me justice.”The lady said that it wouldn’t take much.

I picked out a pair of denim shorts and a ribbed tank top that showed more cleavage than I was used to showing. Then I bought a new bathing suit. I bought a one piece but it dipped down in the front so far that I wasn’t sure my girls would stay put if I did swim. It also had a french cut, so it came up my sides pretty far and down in the back to just above my crack. I felt more naked in it than I did in any of the bikinis I owned. But the woman said it was the best suit I had tried on and it “worked” my figure.

“Honey, if they don’t notice you in this, then they’re blind or gay.”

I took my packages home and when the big day came I put on my suit under my top and shorts. I packed some underwear, suntan lotion, a beach towel and a visor. I walked out to the living room to go and House whistled.

“Now those shorts show your assets. That top isn’t bad either. Let’s go.”

We picked up a very pretty brunette nurse, “Maggie, this is ...Terry?”

“Joanne. Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you.”

He looked in the rear view mirror and I just shook my head in frustration. He didn’t even know her name...again.

We got to the house and it was huge and had a beautiful pool in the back. There was a volleyball court to the side. Greg got a beer for him and his date. I grabbed a diet coke. We walked over to a group of young guys and women.

“Maggie, this is...oh hell, you guys introduce yourselves. I’m going to play volleyball.”

When House got over to the court I saw him talking to three guys and then looking over at Joanne and me. He told me later that they were asking him how a guy as miserable and cranky as he was scored two hot dates to a picnic.

“The gorgeous, intelligent blonde isn’t my date, she’s my roomie.”

“Oh man.” They got on their knees and started bowing, “We are not worthy, we are not worthy...”

“No, no, no... it isn’t like that, she’s kind of like my sister.”

“Well, you know what they say, incest is a family affair.” They all laughed as Greg jumped into the game.

It was blazing and I wanted to go into the pool but no one was in it. I waited and then finally four guys got in to play “Marco Polo.” I went to the other side of the pool where the diving board was and started to take my clothes off. I looked up and all the guys were watching me, even the volleyball game had stopped and they were staring. I felt like putting on my clothes again and running away. I gathered my courage and walked straight out to the edge of the diving board and landed a perfect dive. When I came up everyone was clapping. The game started up again and within minutes the pool was filled with guys, each one trying to talk to me. I was a little nervous about all the attention. I looked over at Greg and he looked back at me and the thumbs up.

“Hey House, mind if I ask your roomie out?”

“You know, she’s just 18.”

“Good, she’s not jail bait.”

“If she’ll go out with you, fine. But she’s very picky.”

I gave my telephone number to just about anyone who asked. I figured it was time I started dating and this was a great place to meet guys who could at least talk about something more than sports.

I got out of the water and grabbed a few chips and a drink.

Greg was getting something to eat too, “I think you better put something on or cover up or we’re going to have a lot of incredibly frustrated guys.”

“You told me to get something that suited my figure better.”

“Well, it certainly does that.” As he stood there he kept looking her up and down, then he shook his head as if to get the image out of his mind. “We need to put a lock on your bedroom door.” And then he walked away. I turned my attention to some of the guys lurking around me.

Of course that night I had to turn up the television to drown out the noise from Greg’s bedroom. Joanne was a screamer. Greg popped out of the room after an hour, smiled at me, grabbed two beers and went back into his room. I went to bed and began to think about the day. All the complements, all the flirting and all the men went through my head, but the only comment that stuck was about the lock on my door. I realized at that moment that I envied Joanne.

Greg had forgotten to check the answering machine when we got home the night before. It was full. Every guy at the picnic must have called asking me out. Greg had the look of someone who finds something distasteful.

“Did you give write your phone number on the bathroom wall? For a good time call Greg House’s roomie? I think you need protection. Are you on the pill?”

“None of your business. Which of those guys should I call back?”

“Charles Weston’s a straight shooter and Nick Perna is a good guy too. The rest are losers and guys who just want to screw you.”

“Are all of the doctors promiscuous?”

“Pretty much. It’s hard to keep a relationship going when you’re working 90 hours a week.”

“So you, you just want a quick screw and no attachments?

“That about sums it up. I’m just a pig, rutting around.”

I remembered Charles Weston being rather good looking and polite, so I called him back. We made a date to go out the next weekend. I spent Monday trying to calm my nerves, I was excited about starting college the next day.

***

Georgetown University is the oldest Catholic university in America, founded in 1789 by Archbishop John Carroll. As America's first Catholic bishop and a strong supporter of the American Revolution, Carroll firmly believed that a Catholic institution could make a major contribution to the political, cultural, and educational life of the fledgling nation. In 1789, he acquired the deed to a plot of land overlooking the Potomac River outside the village of George-Town for the "Academy at George-Town." The school was, in the emerging tradition of American religious tolerance, to be open to "every class of citizens" and students of "every religious profession." Carroll saw Georgetown as an academically rigorous Catholic academy with a diverse student body.

I had chosen Georgetown because it was in the middle of Washington D.C. and I was considering obtaining my English degree and then entering law school. Georgetown also provided access to the Congressional Library and other literary institutions. More than anything I chose it because in high school we went to Washington D.C. on a field trip and I spent all of my free time in Georgetown which I found quaint and bohemian. I was actually looking forward to moving into a Gewirz apartment on campus so I could be in Georgetown itself.

I loved the campus, it was a mixture of old and new. Obviously, the law school and international studies took up a large portion of the campus. I tried to imagine myself going to law school and then working in Washington D.C. It was an exciting thought.

I had already taken a full year of college credits in high school so I was actually starting my sophomore year academically. I had Analytical Writing, English Literature, Political Science, Shakespeare and Geography. At least I was done with my math and most of my science requirements. It was a heavy load for a first semester, but I thought I could handle it. I had spent many a night alone reading Shakespeare and English literature, so I was hoping this would give me a leg up.

My teachers came on strong, as if we were all imbeciles and doomed to flunk. I was expecting this. One even gave us the, “Look to your left, look to your right. Two of you will be gone before you graduate” speech. I went and stood in line for two hours to buy my textbooks. I almost broke my back getting them to the car.

When I got home, I made myself a sandwich and collapsed. I had three classes on Tuesday and Thursday and two on Monday and Wednesday. Luckily, I didn’t have to be to any class before 9:00 a.m. so it gave me time to get through the beltway traffic. I did have to leave by 8:00 a.m. or I wouldn’t make it.

Greg got home and looked at me. “What’s for dinner?”

“Whatever you go out and get us.”

“You didn’t cook?”

“Started school, remember?”

“Undergrad is a cakewalk, wait until you get into grad school.”

“I can make you a sandwich if you don’t want to go out.”

“Sounds good.”

He followed me into the kitchen and got a beer out of the frig. He reached around my waist to pull out the drawer with the bottle opener and just as he did I turned around. We ended with me facing him and less than two inches from his body. I could smell him, he was musky and masculine. I could feel the body heat coming off of him too. I must have turned red because he laughed, “Maggie, you’ve got to stop throwing yourself at me.”

“Dream on. If I wanted to rut with the pigs I’d pick one with more to offer than a scowl each morning.”

“Mean, mean...you are mean girl.”

“Yeah and you need a shower.”

His face and lips were so close, I felt every breath. He wouldn’t let me go and finally I grabbed his arm, lifted it up and walked to the frig to get Mayonnaise. He watched me with his blue eyes , following every step as if I was committing a crime. I handed him the sandwich and he went to the table to eat.

Our days passed in similar fashion for most of the September and October. I was now glad to have the alone time during the 36 hour rotations, it meant that I didn’t have to wipe his nose and butt, I could just study. I was pulling a B in Geography and A’s in the rest. I couldn’t believe I could be getting a B in a silly Geography class, but I was. I dated Charles a couple of times but we just didn’t click. I think he wanted someone who was more complacent. I often challenged his opinions or his facts and that drove him nuts. He wasn’t as thick skin as Greg.

“We have a Halloween party to go to. I’m going to go get my costume tomorrow, want to go with me?” Greg asked.

“What, is that the royal “we” or am I invited?”

“You’re coming too. Do you want to go get your costume tomorrow?”

“You’re pretty sure I’ll go.” It was no use fighting him, “Ok, I’ll go with you.”

On the way we agreed that we could pick each other’s costume out within limits. Greg didn’t want to go as a woman and I didn’t want to go as a Playboy Bunny, one of Greg’s suggestions.

I found three costumes for Greg to try on. They were Dracula, an American Indian (with bascially two flaps, one in front, one in back) and the other was a pimp. It ended up that he looked the funniest in the pimp outfit and he seemed to enjoy getting into character. He thought it would be fun to collect ‘hos’ at the party.

I wasn’t surprised to find that he had chosen the sexy school girl, sexy candy-stripper or the sexy dominatrix. I chose the school girl since I was a student. The outfit has a very short plaid skirt, white blouse with an academy signia and white stockings with white garters. He was happy with our choices and thought I was the hottest student he ever saw.

“You can be one of my ‘hos’ and maybe I can make some money off of you.”

“As long as you split it with me.”

“Hell no B!tch...it’s all mine. I think I’ll have to take you over my knee and give the school girl a good paddling. Yeah, I think you’ve been naughty and you have to stay after class and polish my apple.”

“Boy, you really have this pimping sex talk down don’t you?”

“Shut up ho.”

We got dressed up and laughed like hell at each other. We drove over to the party which was being held in a warehouse. There must have been 2,000 people in costume. It was amazing. I was getting grabbed all night and I think Greg was doing some of it. I would turn around to see who had pinched my butt and there would be no one except Greg off to my side. He always acted like he had done nothing, but I just had a feeling.

I was getting drunk and since I had never been drunk it was an interesting journey. Greg was tipsy but not drunk yet. He saw me swerve a little and chuckled, He put his arm around my shoulders, “You better slow down or you’re going to regret this for several days. I suggest you switch to coke for awhile. I won’t be cleaning up you up or holding your hair back when you drive the porcelain bus.”

“Greggy, dance with me, come on, dance with me...”

He had been talking to some friends and trying to hit up on one of the female doctors.

They all began to tease him, “Go on GREGGY, dance with the girl, dance with her you stud muffin.”

Greg grabbed me around the waist and took me out to the dance floor. Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” was playing. The music slid through my body in delicious rhythms. I was dancing with a lot of hip swaying and grinding. I grabbed Greg around the neck and rubbed my body back and forth against his. This continued for a minute and he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back away from him. I turned around and backed into him and continued to rub against him. I loved the feel of his body and with all the booze inside me I was ready to jump him.

He spoke directly into my ear so that no one else could hear, “Maggie, don’t do that, it’s hard on me. Just dance like you normally do. I don’t want anyone to get the impression that I’m being inappropriate with you.”

I turned around to him, stopped dancing and looked at him like I had just been wounded. “Oh dear, wouldn’t want to ruin the Great Dr. House’s reputation.” I turned and walked quickly off the dance floor.

The booze was making me very dizzy and the room felt incredibly hot and stuffy. I decided to go outside and get some air. There was a group of guys standing and talking by the front door. “Hey school girl, come and give us a few lessons.”

I would have normally ignored those comments but I was feeling very randy. “Which one of you guys knows how to give a bad girl a good paddling?” The fact that those words even came out of my mouth just shows how drunk I was.

They all sauntered up to me and volunteered. I looked at each of them and said, “You look the least likely to have a sexually transmitted disease...” I reached out to grab his hand but then I felt a hand yank my wrist and pull me away from the pack.

“Hey, dude, she wants me, not you.”

“Yeah and I want a threesome with Nicole Kidman and Kelly McGillis, but it ain’t going to happen sh!thead. Come on Maggie, I’ll give you a paddling.” House was dragging me away from the guys.

I pulled my wrist and tried to get away. “You aren’t my Dad or my Mom or my boyfriend. I’m single, white and friggin’ rich...I can do what I want.”

“That would usually be true if it weren’t for the fact that I’m bigger, less drunk and have bigger balls than you.”

“Oh come on, Gregor, let me go...please, I want to play.”

“Play or get involved in a gang bang? Time to go home.” When I wouldn’t go with him, in one fell swoop he picked me up and threw me over his shoulders, “Good night boys.”

He put me in his car and strapped me in. “Maggie you are an easy drunk...we’re going to have to put a limit on your alcohol consumption.”

“WE?? Now who’s being a mother? I was perfectly fine...I can take care of myself. You are a spoil sport. How am I ever going to get laid if you keep interfering with my fun?”

“I’m not here to interfere with your fun but you better think before you pull down your knickers for every guy within a ten mile radius.”

“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander...thinking doesn’t seem to interfere with you screwing anything within a ten mile radius.”

“Yeah, but I’m a guy and I can get away with a lot more than you in the ‘screw anything you want department.’”

“Go screw yourself...”

“I’m pretty good in that department too.” He smiled at me and I finally had to laugh.

We got home and I stumbled into the house. He started taking off his pimp clothes and was down to his boxers when he finally realized I was staring at him. “What is your problem?”

“I was just thinking of the time when I walked in on you and Elizabeth Franklin screwing in the garage. You didn’t hear me so I watched for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure what you were doing at first. And then I heard her say, “I don’t think it goes in there.” I left after that.”

“I remember that! It wasn’t one of my finer moments of lovemaking, but I eventually got the deed done.” He was standing in his boxers laughing. “Go to bed Maggie May.”

I walked to my bedroom and took my clothes off and crawled into my nice sheets. I laid back and thought of Greg and I just wanted to be next to him. I decided I was going to go crawl in bed and snuggle up to him. I got up in the dark and went towards the door but stubbed my big toe on the bed leg. I fell back and hit my head on the dresser and screamed out. “Damn it. Damn.” I felt the warm trickle of my own blood go down my face. I tried to stand up but I was wobbly. I finally got to my feet.

“What is going on?” Greg opened the door and flipped on my light. I’ve never seen anyone go from anger to shock to a look of perplexity so fast.

I stood there in the nude with blood running down my face. I looked at him, rubbed my head and said, “Owww, it hurts.”

At first he acted like he was going to run out the door. He took two steps towards the door but then he thought again about the blood and turned back around, walked over to me and said, “You better let me look at it, you might need stitches.” He grabbed a couple of kleenex. I tilted my head towards him and he parted my hair to look at the cut. “I think it will stop on it’s own.” He stuck the kleenex on the wound and soaked up the blood.

I took a step towards him and he closed his eyes and whispered, “Maggie May, no.” I put my arms up around his neck and pulled him down to give him a kiss. He kissed me back and put his arms around me and fell with me onto the bed where he continued to give me deep open mouth kisses. His tongue was dancing inside with mine. His hands were touching me everywhere and all I wanted at that moment in time was him to be inside me. He hooked his right arm under my knee and picked it up. Then he entered me and as he moved inside I felt tearing and pain. He finished and slowly pulled out of me. Things were quiet and then he said in a voice that was sad, almost in agony, “Maggie, is this what you wanted?” Then he looked down at my body and saw the bright red blood between my thighs.

He jumped up with a look on his face of absolute horror. “Christ, you were a virgin? A virgin? F#ck...why didn’t you tell me? ”

I leaned up on my elbows, “Because I wanted you to do it. I’ve always wanted it to be you the first time. I wanted it to be someone I trusted and you’re the only one I trust. Is that so hard to understand?”

He shook his head in dismay and slammed the door as he left. I looked at my bed, it looked like someone had been murdered in it. There was blood from my head and blood from below. I was too tipsy to care, I crawled into bed and went to sleep.

***

The next morning I woke up and didn’t remember anything until I saw the bed. I got up and changed the sheets and took them downstairs to soak in some Biz. I had to take some Naprosyn for my huge headache.

The door to Greg’s room was shut. I wanted desperately to make this right between us but I wasn’t sure how. I took a shower and washed my hair. I dressed and went in to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee for Greg and tea for myself.

I poured a cup and went down the hall and knocked but he wouldn’t answer. “Greg, I brought some coffee, can we talk please?” There was no answer. I opened the door a little and looked inside. There was no one there and the bed hadn’t been slept in. I wondered where he went.

He didn’t come home Sunday night. I went to school on Monday and when I got home I could tell he had been there but he had left again. I was going nuts, blaming myself for what I had done to him. Tuesday night he wasn’t home when I got back from school. I sat down and wrote him a note.

Dear Greg,

I truly am sorry for what happened. I was naive. I didn’t realize how you would feel about it. I thought that you would treat having sex with me like you did with all the others. I’m sorry. I wanted my first time to be with you because you are the only one in the world that makes me feel safe.

I made an error in judgment and I wish I could do it over, but I can’t. I only hope that some day you can forgive me.

Love Always,

Maggie May

P.S. There’s stew frozen in the freezer, just microwave it for a few minutes.

I put it on the kitchen table, packed some bags with as much as I could and took off towards Georgetown. I found a suite at the Monticello Inn in Georgetown and checked in for the week. The suite was lovely with a bedroom and a living room with a little kitchenette. I fell onto the bed and started to cry. I felt as bad as the day Greg left for college. I woke on Wednesday with huge bags under my eyes.

I now know that Greg spent Saturday night at Joanne’s and then he switched rotations to give him some space between the two of us for 36 hours. He went home during the day to get some clean clothes and hurried back to the hospital.

He pulled into the driveway around 8:00 p.m. on Wednesday. When he got out he noticed that there were no lights on in the house. He walked up the steps of the porch and opened the door. He turned on some lights, “Maggie?” There was no answer. He turned on the light in the kitchen and saw the note. He read it and then sat down and shook his head. He checked my room just in case. But the clothes were gone and so were my books.

When my phone went off my stomach turned, I knew it was probably Greg. “Hello?”

“Is this your plan to insure that you inherit my portion of the great House estate? If my Mom finds out that I’ve lost you somewhere in Washington D.C. there goes my claim to the family fortune.”

“Your claim is safe, I’m not lost or misplaced. I’ve already called your mother to let her know I moved out. I told her that I was having a hard time with the commute getting into the city and decided to move closer. “

“We need to talk about what happened.”

‘I don’t know, I saw the look you gave me and how angry you were.”

“What, I was suppose to feel elated and proud of what I did?”

“But you wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t thrown myself at you literally.”

“I won’t argue with that. What room are you in?”

“Why?” I wasn’t sure what he would do.

“I want to make sure you are safe.”

“I’m safe.”

“Maggie May. We should talk in person. Either you come home or I’ll come to see you.”

“Room 422.”

“I’ll be there in an hour. Bye.”

I heard the knock on the door and I looked through the peep hole. He was standing there rubbing his forehead, waiting for me to open the door. I did. He brushed right by me and went into the living room area of the suite. I closed the door. Greg grabbed a drink out of the refrigerator.

He stood up and walked around, “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Let me give it a try, you’ve always thought of me as a little sister, that is until you saw that I had developed breasts. Then it was hard to think of me as a little kid. But you didn’t know what that made me. You vacillate between thinking, she’s too young and God, I want to nail her. So when I walk up naked, press my body against you and kissed you, you think it must be your fault when I lose my virginity to you. God you are egocentric.”

“Not too many girls have asked for the Greg House deflowering service. So excuse me if I don’t know what to think.”

“Would it have been better for me to give it up to some pimply faced high school jock who wanted to make me another notch on his belt?”

“It shouldn’t have been me, we have too much to lose between us because of this.”

“That brings us to our arrangements. I can’t live in that house right now. I spend every night wanting to feel your hands on my body, feel your lips on mine and feel you in me. It’s hard to get to sleep when your whole body literally aches for someone.” I looked at him and I could tell that he hadn’t wanted to hear this. For once Greg House didn’t want to know the unvarnished truth.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You’re only 18. I didn’t think that women could feel like that.”

“What? You don’t think we think of sex? I think of sex all the time...I think of sex with YOU all the time. That’s why I can’t go back to the house. I need to concentrate on school and I can’t do that when I’m picking up your underwear, finding condom wrappers in the trash and cleaning your whiskers out of the washbasin in the morning.”

“MY God, you are obsessed.”

“Don’t go strutting like a peacock, I just need to get away from you and concentrate on my studies and this will go away and I can get back to thinking of you as just Greg House, my friend. I think if I start dating someone it will probably go a long way to getting us back to normal.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You’re going to miss having a maid around.”

“No Maggie May, I’m going to miss YOU. I enjoy driving down the street and knowing that you’re inside, even if you do drive me insane sometimes.”

“Greg, you know that what I’m saying makes sense.”

“Yes, I’m afraid that it does.”

I moved out of the house and was lucky to find a small studio that was empty because the resident had flunked out of Georgetown. I liked it so much that I took a lease until the end of the spring semester. I had decided not to rent campus housing.

I went home for Thanksgiving and spent it with John and Blythe. Greg didn’t come, he told the Houses he was scheduled for a rotation that weekend. I was pretty sure he had switched with someone who wanted it off. John and Blythe didn’t talk about it but I knew they were sad that he hadn’t come. I invited them back to Washington D.C. to see my new studio and to spend some time with me. They said that they would make plans for spring or summer when it was warmer. They wanted to know if I was coming home for Christmas and the semester break. I told them yes, I would be home to spend it with them. I saw a visible look of relief.

I spent Christmas with them and we had a good time. We even went down to Ensenada to eat, drink and shop. I purchased a genuine fake Gucci handbag for $25.00 and Blythe got the genuine fake Coach bag for $30.00. I bought John his own genuine fake Rolex watch for $20.00. We were all pleased with our purchases. The Houses looked incredibly good and healthy.

I spent my semester break going out with friends, playing music and bowling with John and Blythe at the base bowling alley. When we talked about Greg, Blythe would light up. I told them about his patients and his crazy schedule. They nodded to acknowledge that it was a crazy schedule. I warned them that I would not be coming home for the summer, that I was going to try and get either an internship or a regular job. They understood. I think they were just grateful for any time we had together. I cried this time when I left. I loved them so much.

The spring semester was incredibly hard. I was taking two writing courses and two literature courses and a logic class which meant a lot of writing and reading. I hardly had time to come up for air. My IBM Selectric had already gone through two ribbons and four correcting tapes.

I received a phone call one Saturday night.

“Hello?”

“Maggie May, it’s Greg.”

“Oh, hi. How are you?” I hadn’t heard from Greg in three months. I hadn’t even had time to think about him except on those occasional Saturday nights when I was alone in my studio.

“I’m in town, I thought we could masticate together. That is if you are in to Masticating.”

“What time?”

“I could swing by in an hour to pick you up. Would that work?”

“Sure.”

He came into the studio and looked around. “It’s a little cramped, don’t you get claustrophobia?”

“It’s just me here. I find it works just fine. You’ve lost weight.”

“No one is cooking for me. You’ve lost some yourself.”

“Yeah, I have a heavy load this semester and grabbing a bite to eat becomes a chore.”

“Shall we go?”

It was freezing out with a lot of sleet and ice forming. I found out he was down in D.C. for a two day seminar and just got up the courage to call me that afternoon. We fell back into our easy way of talking, as if nothing had happened between us. I hadn’t laughed so hard in months. I told him about his parents and that they would be out to visit when it was warmer. He winced and I scowled at him. He asked me if I had a boyfriend.

“There’s a guy in my logic class that is smart, funny and a wise ass. He comes and sits with me in the student union, but he hasn’t asked me out yet. I think he will soon.”

“Good.”

“And you? Dating anyone special? Or still rutting?”

“Still spreading my seed to start that superior race. “

We had a good time but on the way back to my studio Greg’s car would slip and slide every time we had to stop for a light or stop sign.

“Greg, you can’t drive home on this, you’ll kill yourself. You can stay at my studio until the morning and go home then.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea considering our history.”

“Don’t worry, I promise not to jump you this time. I’ll contain my ardor.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. He pulled up to the curb and I reached over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger, I still love you and your company.”

“Same here.”

I got out and went inside and started studying to get my mind off of what he said in the car. It worked, as I got more and more into the chapters of my Charles Dickens, I forgot about the great Greg House.

***

I didn’t see him for the rest of the semester. I started dating Steve Liewer, the guy in my logic class. He reminded me of a tamer Greg House, not quite as acerbic. He treated me well including in bed. I learned how to make love with Steve. He was patient and he was good. We would sometimes spend all weekend in my studio alternating between studying and screwing. It was a lot of fun.

In May I renewed my lease for another six months. I started looking for a job and found one as an aid to Ronald Reagan’s Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services. I was a glorified gopher and receptionist, but I learned a lot anyway that summer and I got to meet President Reagan and Vice President Bush.

In June I called and left messages on Geg’s answering machine telling him that I wanted to take him out for his birthday but he never called me back.

My birthday was in July and the Houses came to D.C. for it. I called Greg and was surprised when he actually picked up the phone. I told him it was my birthday and that his parents would be in town.

“We’re all having dinner on Saturday night, that includes you. No excuses.”

“But I have to...”

“Switch with someone, this isn’t an option. Do you understand? Because if you don’t then I’m going to come up there and install your parents in your house. I’ll tell them that you wanted them to stay with you and that you were more than happy to give up your bed for their comfort. Get the drift.’

“I’ll be there.”

The Houses came and saw my studio. Blythe thought it was cute and approved. John was worried about the neighborhood but I explained that D.C. was a bizarre town. You could drive two blocks in a good neighborhood, one block in a bad one and then be back in a good neighborhood. It wasn’t like most towns where there was a “wrong side of the track.”

They liked Steve. Blythe said, “He reminds me of Greg but with a little more tact.”

We went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. Blythe, John, Steve and I waited almost a half hour for Greg. I could tell John was furious. Military men tend to hate it when someone is late, it’s like a personal insult. When he didn’t come we ordered our meal. Just as I handed the waitress the menu back I saw him walk in. My chest felt tight and I swallowed hard. There was no other word to describe him but, “beautiful.” His long legs glided through the tables and the slacks were tailored perfectly to give him the graceful, sexy, stride of a panther. He had on a short sleeved shirt opened as a V at the top. It was in a shade of blue that made his eyes pools of crystal blue. I had to look away or I was sure I would give myself away. I thought about Steve sitting next to me and it calmed me to know he was there.

Greg came to the table, kissed his mom, nodded to his dad, scrutinized Steve and gave me a kiss half way between my ear and my neck. It wasn’t intimate but it wasn’t one you would normally get from a friend. I could tell that Steve had taken note of it. I hadn’t told Steve much about Greg except that I had been his next door neighbor and that we were good friends.

“Maggie May, you’re 19! Congratulations. Sorry about being late but I had a patient come in with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever but without the spots. It took us awhile to figure out what was wrong. I thought we were going to lose her.”

“Greg, this is Steve Liewer.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Steve answered right away.

“What do you do for a living?” Greg asked.

“I’m just finishing Grad school, so I start my new at the job at the U.N. in New York next week.”

“I thought you said you were her boyfriend? How are you going to keep the relationship going from New York?” Greg had asked a question that I kept asking myself.

“New York is only a three hour train ride from D.C. I don’t see a problem.”

Greg said nothing but nodded his head up and down to indicate that he understood. Greg’s parents had a million questions for their son and he answered them one by one. The meal turned from a celebration of my birthday into a fact finding mission about Greg House. I didn’t mind, they rarely got to see him.

They all gave me gifts except Greg. “ I have your gift, but it was too big to bring in here. I’ll give it to you later.”

Steve said, “Hey Pamplana’s is next door. They always have a nice easy band and great drinks. Why don’t we go next door for a round of drinks.”

The Houses said, “The night is still young and we’re on California time so we’re up for it.”

Greg said nothing but followed us to the bar. It was a sleek looking place with a nice dance floor, a band and nice linen dressed tables around the dance floor to sit. There was one table left close to the dance floor so we could see the band, but far enough away that we could talk. The band started the set with a Rhumba and I smiled.

“What’s the joke?” Steve asked.

“I actually know that this is a Rhumba.” I said.

“How did you know that?” Steve was curious.

“Greg, you remember how you told me your parents made you take ballroom dancing when you were twelve at the Officer’s Club? Well, guess what they did to me when I was thirteen?”

“Dance lessons at the Officer’s Club?” he asked and I nodded my head a vigorous ‘yes.’

“Well, we thought it was good for you two to know and it was great exercise.” Blythe argued.

Greg and I laughed, “Yes and great humiliation for a teenager.” Greg said.

Two songs later and two margaritas under my belt, a Tango was played. Greg looked across the table and asked, “Do you remember how to Tango?”

“Argentine or American?”

“Oh, don’t insult me, Argentine of course.” He stood up and held out the right hand for my left and he put his left hand behind his back and escorted me to the dance floor. We turned and faced each other, looked in each other’s eyes and he started the basic step, to the side, back , to the side and then the sweeping steps towards me as I go backwards. I was staring into his eyes as is expected in the Tango. He held my pelvic bone against his right hip as we glided back again. Then he took me in his arms and guided me through the ochos both back and forward, He twirled me and then he pulled me into basic position. I was surprised that I still remembered it. I was even more surprised at how well Greg could dance.

It was also one of those dances that takes up the entire dance floor if done right. No one else dared join us. He walked and twirled me three times and then dipped me over his arm with his face just inches from my breasts as he also dipped over my body. He pulled me up slowly and held me tight against his chest for about five seconds, pinning my arm with his behind my back, then he started again, he walked towards me and I walked back. It was as if we were one person in unison, him looking down into my eyes and me looking up. When we ended on a dip, my right hip and pelvis pinned against his right leg and my left leg pointed down to the floor, everyone in the club clapped. Greg bowed and then held out his hand to me as if everyone should clap for me. I blushed.

Greg was paged soon after that and had to respond to an emergency. He left to get back to Baltimore. Steve and I took the Houses back to their hotel and then went to my studio. Steve hardly spoke to me on the way home. When we made love, I closed my eyes and saw Greg. Steve was rougher than usual, as if he were angry at someone or at me. The dance had stirred something in me that I had kept contained for months.

Blythe asked me later that week, “What’s going on between you and Greg?” I denied that anything was going on and she said, “That wasn’t a Tango, that was, well, excuse my French, lovemaking.” I was embarrassed. “Maggie, I love my son, but at every turn he’ll break your heart, be careful. Stick with Steve.” Blythe had an uncanny knack of knowing when you weren’t being truthful. I was pretty sure Greg had inherited his ability to observe and put things together from his Mom. He got his stubbornness and fearlessness from his Dad.

***

Steve took off for New York City with a promise to be back in two weeks. Within minutes of him leaving I received a telephone call from Greg.

“I have two tickets to the Kennedy Center, Dame Kira Te Kanawa is singing for one night only, this Saturday. Are you in?”

“You’re kidding? Wow! You know I love her. Sure, is it formal?”

“Afraid so, it’s one of those special performances for the Arts.”

“All I have is my prom dress. I’ll have to go buy something.’

“I bet that just breaks your heart.”

“Ha,ha...what’s the plan?”

“I’ll pick you up at 6:00 p.m., we have dinner reservations at 6:30 p.m. and the performance is at 8:00 p.m.”

I went out to the boutiques in Georgetown and found an evening gown that was on sale and which I thought looked nice on me. It reminds me now of the dress Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman. It was red silk with a red satin band around the empire waist with velveteen, off the shoulder sleeves. I bought a fake diamond choker and earrings and some black velvet heels. I had a black shawl that I added to the outfit.

Saturday night came and I put my hair up in a french chignon. I applied a light coat of makeup, brown eyeshadow, brown eyeliner, mascara. I thought my eyes looked bluer with the brown. No matter how much color I put on, my eyes were gray compared to Greg’s. I changed out my purse from my day purse to an evening purse that Blythe had given to me. It had belonged to her aunt. It was a black and silver beaded purse with an intricate beaded pattern. The icing on the outfit was my black gloves that went up past my elbows. I think every woman secretly wants to wear a dress where you can wear gloves above the elbow.

I had just gotten the gloves on and was ready when there was a knock on the door. I was nervous. When I opened the door there was Greg, all 6'2" in a Armani European cut tuxedo with beautiful french cuffs. I wondered if he had bought it or rented it. He was clean shaven, gorgeous blue eyes, and his hair combed with a left side part. He made me feel like jelly inside. The whole time I am looking at him he is smiling at me and speaking. I finally heard him.

“...beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life. So elegant. Maggie May you are stunning. I have this for you.”

It was a wrist corsage made of baby roses, white and red. It was beautiful. I was a little shocked and so he took my wrist, opened the corsage box and put it on. It was lovely and so was he.

“Are you ready to go?”

I managed to say, “Yes.”

We arrived at the restaurant and I felt like a queen being escorted by a courtier. It was surreal. People turned and stared at us. One older lady grabbed my elbow as I went by and said, “You two make a beautiful couple.” I told her thank you. We were given a table in the middle of the restaurant and all through the dinner we were stared at.

“You certainly know how to turn heads for someone so young.”

“I think all these women are looking at you. I know I am. You look very handsome tonight. I have a question though. Why did you ask me? You could have asked Joanne or Cheryl or one of the others you’ve dated. Why me?”

“Simple, I knew that you really liked Kiri Te Kanawa. I didn’t want to go with someone who didn’t appreciate her talent.”

It made sense, how can you talk about the performer to someone who doesn’t even know the aria she’s singing. “Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

We made it to the opera and as we were entering a photographer yelled at us. We turned to see what he was saying and he took our photo. “That’s going to be great for the style section. Can I get your names and permission to use your photo?” We gave him our names and Greg gave him a card. The photographer promised to send him a copy of the photo.

We went in and took our seats. I waited all night for ‘O Mio Babbino Cara,’ from the opera, Gianni Schicchi, by Puccini. When she finally sang it as her encore, the tears just streamed down my face. The song is about a young woman who begs her father’s permission to marry a man he disapproves of or she will throw herself off the Ponte Vecchio. In the end he says no and she does commit suicide. Greg took out his handkerchief and gave it to me to mop the tears. I couldn’t help it, even if you don’t understand Italian, you can hear the pain and longing in the aria and especially in her performance. We all gave her a standing ovation.

As we were leaving he said, “I guess there’s no sense in asking you which was your favorite piece.” I was still mopping the tears and makeup. I looked up trying to look composed and he just chuckled and gave me a hug. “You’re pathetic.”

He was a perfect gentleman, he took me up the stairs to my studio, waited for me to unlock my door. He gave me a short closed-mouth kiss on the lips and said good night and then disappeared.

Two weeks later a package arrived in the mail. Inside was a Victorian frame with our photo inside with a note, “The photographer sent me two, so I thought you’d like one.” I try to be modest but I have to admit that the photo was very flattering of both of us. Greg and I both look happy and beautiful. I loved it. I put it on the shelf and vowed that I would get a copy made for Blythe. She would love it too.

The fall semester of my junior year began and I had one literature course, a Creative Writing course, an Advanced writing course, Literary Criticism and a communications course. Steve had been down to visit several times and we talked almost every night on the telephone. I didn’t tell Steve about the opera because something told me he would be upset. It was early October and I was studying for an exam in my literature course when I started thinking about the night of the Tango and realized that Greg had never given me the gift he said he had for me. I suspected it had been a lie to cover for not having a birthday gift at all. Otherwise, he would have given it to me by now.

That Thursday I received a phone call from Greg. “I have your gift sitting in my trunk, I keep forgetting to give it to you. Are you doing anything this Saturday? “

“No, I’m free.”

“Then I’ll come down around 6:00 p.m. , take you to dinner and give you your gift, ok?”

“Sounds great.”

He came down and we went to a nice, but not fancy, restaurant serving Indian food, one of my favorites. Greg kept talking about clinic duty and how mind numbing it was. However, he did have a few funny anecdotes that made us laugh. I could tell something wasn’t right.

“Greg, what’s going on. You’re distracted and worried.”

He gave a look like he didn’t want to tell me. But then he said, “I’m having a few problems with the administration at Hopkins. Seems my winning personality isn’t winning them over. They have me on probation. My reviews are kind of like, brilliant, uncannily capable but doesn’t play well with others. Apparently, my bedside manner is more like the Spanish Inquisition.”

I laughed, “Well, how long do you have to go before you finish your residency?”

“One more year to specialize in Infectious Diseases. Then I’m going to do a two year residency in nephrology. I was hoping to do it at Hopkins...looks good on the resume.”

“Greg, this isn’t new. You’ve had problems with authority before. You know how to play the game, it’s just that you get exasperated and then you say and do whatever you please. You’ve always been that way. You don’t suffer fools lightly. I can’t change you. Frankly, I don’t want to change you, but you have to play the game long enough to get you through your residency and you know it.”

“I’d rather go in for a root canal. This is hard. I know what you’re saying. I did better when you were around... going home and venting to you and arguing with you actually helped me deal with this crap.”

“Well, maybe you need a girlfriend. You should put more effort in trying to establish a real relationship.”

We walked back to my studio and he went to the car. He opened the trunk and pulled out a guitar case. “Happy Birthday.”

I took it inside and opened it. It was a 1988 Ovation Collector Series acoustic guitar.

It had a Metallic Silver face, a very unusual Collectors issue. I was overjoyed.

“GREG! It’s gorgeous. Oh, wow. Thank you.”

“When I was here I saw the old one I gave you and it looked pretty worn. I thought it was time for a new one.”

“This is so exciting!” I started tuning the guitar. Greg grabbed the old one and tuned it. I started picking it and it had an incredible sound. “This is so crisp and clean.”

Greg started strumming the guitar. We sat on some large square throw pillows on the floor at the edge of the bed. We leaned back against the bed for back support.

I asked, “Greg, when I was staying at your house, I didn’t see any musical instruments, where were they?”

“Still packed away in the attic, I just haven’t had the time to play music. And I haven’t had the money to buy a piano. I haven’t been able to get to it.”

“That’s ridiculous. You, above all people need your music to unwind. It would be good for you after all that mind numbing clinic duty. Instead of watching television, you should be playing.”

He continued to strum and hum. I started to strum too. He had never heard me play.

“Do you know Tim Buckley’s, ‘Once I Was?”

“I know Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah.”’

“Tim Buckley was his father, they both died young. But he wrote, ‘Once I Was’ during the Viet Nam war.”

“I think I might know it, play it and I’ll try to follow. Are you in G?”

He shook his head yes and began to strum and then he started to sing:

Once I was a soldier

And I fought on foreign sands for you

Once I was a hunter

And I brought home fresh meat for you

Once I was a lover

And I searched behind your eyes for you

And soon there’ll come another

To tell you I was just a lie.

Sometimes I wonder

Just for awhile,

Do you ever remember me?

Though you have forgotten

All of our rubbish dreams

I find myself searching

Through the ashes of our ruins

For the days when we smiled

And the hours that ran wild

And the magic of our eyes

And the silence of our words

And Sometimes I wonder

Just for awhile

Do you ever remember me?

I didn’t join in at all. I had heard the song but I hadn’t realized how beautiful the lyrics were and Greg sang it so hauntingly. “Greg, what a beautiful song...how sad.”

“Well then, maybe you can join me in this one...”

He did the guitar introduction and we both smiled,

Wake up Maggie I think I’ve got something to say to you,

It’s late September and I really should be back at school,

I know I keep you amused, but I feel Im being used,

Oh Maggie I couldn’t have tried any more,

You lured me away from home just to save you from being alone,

You stole my heart and that’s what really hurt...

We sang it together...and when we got to these lyrics he almost shouted them at me,

...All I needed was a friend to lend a guiding hand,

But you turned into a lover and

Mother what a lover, you wore me out,

All you did was wreck my bed,

And in the morning kick me in the head,

Oh Maggie I couldn’t have tried anymore,

You lured me away from home, cause you didnt want to be alone,

You stole my heart I couldn’t leave you if I tried...

He stopped playing and singing and put his guitar quickly off to the side. He grabbed my arm and took my guitar and tossed it onto some pillows. He turned back to me and looked in my eyes and then kissed me. We kissed again only this was mutual. I stood up and he stood up with me. He started taking off my blouse, one button at a time. With each button he would give me a deep kiss. There were five buttons and then my skirt was elastic, he pulled it down and I stepped out of it. I started unbuttoning his short sleeve dark blue shirt. He took it off and then grabbed the back of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He kissed my shoulders, my neck and my lips again. He looked at my breasts nestled in my demi-cup bra and he kissed the tops of them. Then he reached around and unlatched the bra. I took it off and he held me next to his chest. He put his hand down the back of my panties as he kissed me again. I put my hand down the back of his shorts and pulled him closer. He went over to the bed, pulled down the covers and after taking our underwear off, we got in together.

Greg was slow and gentle. We explored each other with our mouths and tongues and touched each other everywhere. We made love missionary style but slowly and with Greg looking in my eyes the whole time. When he climaxed his eyes closed and his mouth clenched and he didn’t breath until it was over. Then he made sure that my pleasure was taken. Afterwards, we lay in each other’s arms. There were no excuses or apologies. We both knew that this was what we wanted.

“Maggie?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve never touched anything so delicious as your skin. I don’t think I can let you out of this bed, ever.”

“Then let’s not get out of bed...ever.”

He kissed me and nibbled my ears. I did get out of bed, to get us some ice water, I was parched. We drank the water and returned to our lovemaking. I turned Greg onto his back and then took an ice cube out of the glass. With one hand I caressed him and with the ice cube in my lips I traced a line down from his chest to the line of hair that starts at the navel and goes down. He was very excited, and I straddled him while we made love. He was exhausted afterwards and said, “I’ll never look at ice the same way again.”

It was difficult getting out of bed the next day. Neither of us wanted to move or do anything to spoil our night together. But eventually we both got up and cleaned up. I made Greg some coffee and after I was dressed, he took me out to breakfast. We looked like one of those couples that can’t keep their hands off of each other. We kissed each other deeply at every intersection and when we sat down. Greg ordered eggs benedict and I had French toast, he ate some of mine off of my plate. I was used to this, he had done it ever since the roast beef plate his Mom had served me.

‘What do you want to do today?” He asked.

“Go back to bed.” I said.

“Tempting, but let’s take a walk before we do. I enjoy walking the mall.”

“I do too. Can we go up to the Viet Nam Memorial?”

‘I don’t care where we go, I just like to walk.”

We started walking and Greg started making up stories about the people we passed. One was a proctologist going to make a house call, he was caring a toilet plunger. The woman with the small dog was a jewel thief and the dog her accomplice, he swallows the jewelry she steals and then he passes them later after the police have searched her apartment. We had a great time making up the stories. We got out to the mall and started strolling. Every now and again we would stop and hug or kiss. When we got to the Viet Nam Memorial I was somber. I was always moved by the polished granite and the reflection of the trees off of the deep black panels. I made sure that I stopped and touched the panel with Lt. Larry Stevens, MIA. He was the oldest son of my Dad’s friend and had been missing since Valentine’s Day, 1969.

We then climbed the Lincoln Memorial and sat on one of the steps and we looked back at the mall towards the Washington Memorial and the Capitol Building. I then started to quote the Gettysburg Address without looking at it.

“Why in the hell would you memorize that?”

“I admire Lincoln quite a bit. He was hated by so many people, including a lot of people in his own party. But he did what he thought was right even though it was incredibly unpopular, he started a war to keep the Union together. He was such a tragic hero, having lost two of his sons, dealing with a wife with a borderline personality disorder and being haunted with dreams of his own death. He was a great human being and leader and he was a great writer. So I memorized the Address as a kid in his honor, but more importantly, I think it is a beautiful five minute speech that captures the essence of patriotism. It brings tears to my eyes when it is quoted. How can you not be moved by the phrase, “Last full measure of devotion?..” It sends chills down my arms, look...”

He looked at me and my chills, “Maggie, you are one weird chick. Do you think if we have sex long enough then I will turn weird like you and start quoting the Preamble to the Constitution or Patrick Henry’s speech?”

“Oh screw you Gregory House.”

“Ok, honey let’s go.”

And so we did, we made our way back to the studio and straight into bed. We made love and as he was kissing me all over he looked up and said, “We the People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, establish justice, promote....” I took a pillow and hit him upside his head. We both laughed.

 We didn’t get out of bed for the rest of the day. We even had a pizza delivered so that we could stay in bed and eat. I gave him a massage and he fell asleep so I turned on the television and watched for awhile. When he woke up he reached over and grabbed me to hold me close to him. Around 9:00 p.m. he told me, “I’ve got to go. I have a 36 hour rotation tomorrow. But I’ll be down Wednesday, ok?”

“I have class until 4:00 p.m. so don’t get down here too early.”

“Maggie May, when does your lease expire?”

“End of this month.”

“Move back in with me.”

“But Greg, are you sure you want to make that kind of commitment so soon?”

“You must be joking. I’ve just jumped off a huge cliff Maggie May , there’s no going back now.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ll think about it and let you know Wednesday.”

“Good night Maggie May.”

“Good night Greg.”

I stared at the ceiling all night. There were so many loose ends. I had to tell Steve it was over, I worried about what Blythe and John would say and I was concerned over what was going to happen to Greg and I. It became so overwhelming that I wanted to run away. But I eventually fell asleep and woke at 8:00 a.m. I got to school and had a hard time concentrating. I kept thinking that Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

***

That night I dialed Steve. “Hello?”

“Steve, it’s Maggie. How are you?”

“I’m well Maggie but you don’t sound so hot, what’s up?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this over the phone but I wasn’t sure when we would be seeing each other again.”

“Let me see if I can guess. You and Greg House are seeing each other now and you want to break up.”

“Wow, you’re psychic...it’s true. But how did you know?”

“I could tell from the minute he walked in and kissed you that you were in love with him. When he did it you closed your eyes like you do just before you climax. And then I saw that photo of the two of you that you stashed in the desk drawer. God you looked gorgeous and you looked in love, so did he. I’m disappointed. I think he’s going to break your heart, but I can’t stop that. I love you Maggie. Maybe if I had told you sooner this wouldn’t have happened. But you can’t go back. I really do hope he can make you happy.”

“I don’t know Steve, but I’ve been on this train since I was a girl and I have to see where it’s going. But thanks so much for everything. You are an wonderful human being and a great lover .”

“ Good Bye Maggie.”

“Thanks Steve, Good Bye.”

Wednesday night at 6:00 p.m. Greg showed up with a rose for me. He walked into the studio, “Mmmm, what’s that I smell...God, that’s making me hungry.”

“It’s chilli and cornbread.” I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. I was so afraid that this was all going to be over soon and I wanted to just hold on him.

“Ah, Maggie, MAGGIE...you’re squeezing really hard. I’m not going anywhere.”

We sat down at my little table and ate dinner.

“I really find this place suffocating. Please come back home.” He looked at me with a sweet silly face.

“I’m going to give up my lease and move back at the end of the month.”

He reached over and kissed me on my lips, “Great.”

We didn’t go anywhere because I needed to finish a paper. Greg sat on the bed and watched television while I sat at the typewriter. He got up, went to the bathroom and then came back and started annoying me. He blew on my neck, nibbled my ear, reached from behind and grabbed my breasts, anything to get my attention.

“Ok, ok....just give me five more minutes? I have to finish my chapter and then I can direct my full attention to you, ok?”

He sighed and then went over by the bed. I could hear his belt dangling as he took off his pants so I turned and he was already stripped down to his shorts. Normally, this impatience would have bugged the crap out of me, but he looked so cute and happy. He looked like he was going to go to Disneyland. I had to giggle.

I finished the paragraph, turned off the typewriter, took a drink of water and jumped up. I told him,

“You get one piece of clothing for each “real” answer to my questions. If I think you’re not being honest, then I put a piece of clothing back on...”

“Oh, no, no. No way Maggie May. Just come over and let’s make love.”

“Let’ start. What is your favorite color?” I started with an easy one to relax him.

“Blue.”

“You’ve just earned my levis.” I took off my jeans and threw them off to the side.

“Who is your favorite musical artist?”

“John Coltrane.”

“I didn’t know that! You’ve just earned my sweater.” I threw it over to the side.

“What is your favorite sexual position?”

He smiled broadly, “Woman on top. The view is incredible and your hands are free to explore. You better hurry this up, I’m getting hot thinking about it.”

“You’ve just earned my shirt.” I threw the shirt over and sat in my bra and panties.

“Now, it gets harder. Do you ever see yourself getting married?”

His face dropped. I could tell his brain was trying to figure out how he could tell the truth and not upset me. “I honestly don’t know. Not usually, I feel like I’d ruin it. But Maggie May, that doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind.”

He sounded so pathetically honest I smiled sweetly at him to let him know it was ok. “You’ve just earned the ....well, which would you prefer? Bra or panties off”

“Bra please...”

“And, since you answered the question of bra and panties, that means you get BOTH!!!”

“Hallelujah brothers and sisters, I’m going to the promise land.” Greg through up his hands in praise.

I took both off and walked over. He looked up and down and then grabbed me around my waist and pulled me down. He made sure I was just at the brink of climaxing and then he entered. We climaxed together and I could feel my muscles contracting. It was both pleasurable and painful.

Just after we both finished he said, “You have incredibly strong Kegle muscles.”

“Should I be flattered?”

“Oh yeah baby, those muscles could give a dead man a climax.”

“Well thank you sir.”

“No. THANK YOU.”

“The pleasure was mine.”

“No, I assure you, the pleasure was mine.” and then he started to tickle me.

“Greg House, I’m not ticklish...ok there’s one place, but I will never give that up. On the other hand, you claim not to be ticklish and I know that’s a LIE!” I started to tickle back and within minutes he was writhing on his back trying to keep my hands away from him.

“Ok, ok, truce...truce...”

“I want to hear, “I surrender..”“

“I surrender, I surrender...just keep those digits away from me.”

We both collapsed. “Can you stay all night?” I asked.

“Yeah, I don’t have work tomorrow.”

“Great, you can come to class with me and I can show you off to everyone.”

We started out sleeping in the spoon position and I could feel his warm breath on my back and neck. But occasionally he would move and it would tickle. This was the one place I was ticklish, except immediately after sex when I was incredibly ticklish all over. He was asleep so he couldn’t see me moving my neck into a position where his breath didn’t tickle.

During the night our bodies separated and I was sleeping on my side. It must have been around 4:00 a.m. when I woke up to him sliding up to me and wrapping himself around me. He was warm and toasty and his body was so long compared to me. Within minutes he was fondling me and we had sex slowly and without fanfare. When it was over, he went back to sleep immediately. I was awake. Once he was snoring I knew I was doomed, I’d never be able to get back to sleep.

Greg is a strange sleeper. Sometimes he wakes up at the drop of a pin, other times he sleeps through anything. After he has sex, he can sleep through anything.

I got up and turned on the desk lamp and started typing away. I stopped to see if he was going to wake and he didn’t, so I worked on my essay. I edited it and retyped the pages with the editing. By 7:30 a.m. when the alarm went off, I had already had my shower and was ready to go. When the alarm sounded, I got up and made a pot of coffee and a pot of tea. I made him wake up, reluctantly I might add, and go get his shower. I made us some toast and when he came to the table he looked so clean and shiny that I wanted to tweak his cheek. Which I did.

The day was a normal day of lectures. Greg fell asleep in my advanced writing course. When he started snoring the whole class turned around and the teacher, who liked me, asked, “Are we interfering with his beauty sleep?”

I prodded Greg and told the teacher, “He’s a doctor, up all night with a patient. I’ll wake him.” Greg woke up with a snort and the whole class laughed including the teacher. When the class resumed I made sure by pinching Greg every five minutes that he didn’t go back to sleep.

After class I told him to go back to the studio and sleep and I would meet up with him. He begged me to let him come with me to my next class, he just wanted to be with me.

The next class was my elective, “Creative Writing.” I relented and on the way we got him a cup of coffee. As he was finishing it up outside the classroom, I went in to talk to my instructor, Professor Gerald Perkins. Professor Perkins was scrumptious. He was probably 30 and very handsome in the way that Robert Redford is handsome. In fact, he could have been his brother. Professor Perkins saw me and gave me a smile. I had to ask him about the next assignment and so we talked for a few minutes. He always made me laugh and today was no exception. After we were done I took my seat. Greg had been watching us from the doorway. He came and sat down next to me.

“That guy has the hots for you.”

“Professor Perkins? Don’t be absurd.”

“I can read his body language and he wants to ball you.”

“For God sakes Greg, he doesn’t want to sleep with me.”

“You’re right, he doesn’t want to sleep with you, he wants to screw you.”

“Behave and pay attention.”

During the class, Professor Perkins called on me several times. I was now conscious of the fact that he might be flirting with me and I was squirming when he showed me the least bit of attention.

After class, Greg marked his territory by putting his arm around me and giving me a kiss before we left the classroom. I just smiled to myself as we walked back to the studio.

***

I moved back in with Greg at the end of the month. I told him that we needed to tell his parents about us and he adamantly disagreed.

“Your Mom is going to know. I can’t seem to hide anything from her.”

“We’ll call on Tuesdays when she goes to the hairdresser and tell my Dad that you moved back in to save money and to help me save money. He’ll believe you. He’ll tell Mom and it will be fine.”

“You live in a fantasy world Dr. House.”

“Well, in my fantasy you’re naked and waiting on me hand and foot. Care to make that one come true?”

“I think it already has.” I was referring to the fact that I when I moved back in I had to clean the house thoroughly and buy groceries.

The next obstacle was Thanksgiving. I wanted Greg to fly home with me but he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to face his parents in case the truth came out about us. I was determined to go.

When I arrived everything seemed normal between us and I relaxed. I gave his parents a copy of the photo and his father was impressed. “Maggie, you are beautiful in this photo. Even Greg looks handsome.” His mother looked at it, smiled and thanked me.

His mom and I went grocery shopping at the commissary. Between the cereal and jam aisle she stopped the cart. “Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Greg? Why did you really move back in with him?”

“Do you really want the truth or do you want me to lie to you?

“The truth, we’ll lie to his father.”

“We both realized that we have feelings for each other that weren’t going to go away. They were interfering with my relationship with Steve and Greg, well, he just wanted me with him. Blythe, this isn’t a surprise, I’ve been in love with Greg since I was a child.”

“Maggie, that’s just it, you were a child when you thought you had fallen in love with him. You’re an adult, can’t you see that Greg doesn’t know what he wants yet. Maybe if you had met when you were in your thirties he would be different , but right now, he’s still lost.”

“I know, I can feel that. But for now, we are good for each other. Please try to understand.”

“You are the most mature 19 year old I have ever met, I think it comes from your childhood, but you are naive if you think this is going to end well.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Oh, and don’t say anything to John. He would blame Greg for all of it.”

“Do you blame me?”

“I think you had a lot to do with it. When it comes to Greg you don’t think straight.”

“You’re right. I did have a lot to do with it. But I have to let it run its course. If I don’t, he will haunt me the rest of my life.”

“I don’t understand any of this. He was a difficult child, he’s a difficult man. Why choose him when you could have any man out there is beyond me. Like I told you, I love my son and I want him to be happy, but I don’t think he knows how to be happy.”

But to some extent, Blythe was wrong. Greg was happy, at least for awhile. We learned the things you learn about each other when you live together. I discovered he likes his showers hot and I like mine warm. We compromised every time we took a shower together. He likes Colgate and I like Crest. He likes gel shaving lotion, Polo cologne and blue shirts. He doesn’t put away dishes even when they are clean. He likes British comedies like Faulty Towers. He likes whiskey...single malt, but he couldn’t afford that. He liked to do crossword puzzles in the bathroom. Now this drove me nuts. I like to get in and out of the bathroom fast. Not Greg. He likes to sleep on his stomach and he hates clipping his toe nails until I screamed that they were scratching me. Then he would coerce me into clipping them for him.

He was always horny which was wearing me out. He loved to go out for walks. He went skiing with some guys at work and it didn’t bother him to leave me at home. He hated Christmas and birthdays because they were “commercialized.” I still dragged him out to get a tree.

“Why are we getting a tree if you are going to San Diego for Christmas?”

“Because I want one.”

He gave me a look like, “and??”

“BECAUSE I WANT ONE.” I yelled at him

“Ok, then you’ll have one.”

We got one and bought decorations for it. When it was up I felt happy and I guess it showed because even he smiled when we lit it. We took lots of photos including several timed ones that showed Greg or me just getting into the frame and putting a hasty arm around each other. We had sex next to the tree so that I could see the lights when I climaxed.

“You are so strange.”

“Well you try it. You can be on bottom and look up.”

When we did, he said, “I didn’t get the same vibe you did...all I saw was a haze of lights behind your head. Sorry. But it was good sex, does that count?”

“Some people just don’t have an imagination.”

I flew home for Christmas and brought photos of the two of us. Blythe asked me when we were by ourselves if we were happy.

“I am and I think he is. He laughs a lot and he’s doing better at work.” I had let it slip and then realized that Blythe didn’t know he was having problems. I brought her up to speed.

“It doesn’t surprise me.”

I missed Greg and he missed me. I called him when his parents were gone.

“When are you coming home again?”

“I’m staying until the 3^rd.”

“So I have to ring in 1988 by myself. That sucks.”

“You could have come with me, you have vacation saved.”

“Maybe next year.”

I didn’t know it but 1988 would be one of the happiest years of my life and 1989 the worst.

***

I became familiar with his colleagues over the phone. They would call and ask about him switching a shift or something and we would talk briefly. One day the department head called. I felt a knot in my stomach because he rarely called and when he did, it usually pissed Greg off. I knew that Greg and he did not see eye to eye.

“Hello Maggie, is Greg there?”

“No, Tom, he went to get his hair cut.”

“Do you know what barber shop?”

“No... is this an emergency?”

“I’m afraid it is. We have a patient that’s going downhill fast and we can’t figure out what’s wrong with him. Greg’s good at that. He can usually diagnose someone before the tests are done. I need him to come in right away or I think we’ll lose this guy and he’s only 20.”

I thought to myself, “He’s close to my age.” I didn’t hesitate, “He’s usually not long when he gets his hair cut so he should be back soon. I’ll give him the message.”

“Thanks Maggie. Bye.”

I was nervous because Tom sounded nervous. It must have taken everything in the world to put aside his ego and admit that Greg was better at something than him. Greg walked in about five minutes later.

“Tom called, there’s a 20 year old patient that they can’t figure out what’s wrong. He wants you to come in right away, he’s dying...he said that you were good at diagnosing and they needed you.”

“Too bad.”

“What?? You have to go in, you can’t let this guy die.”

“He has been riding me for the last two weeks and now he needs me to make sure his stats don’t go in the toilet. Tough.”

I looked at him like he was a monster.

“Maggie May, of course I’m going in, I just needed to rant. Come on, come with me. After I diagnose the kid we can catch a movie.”

“You think it will be that easy?”

“It usually is. I don’t understand most of these doctors, they can’t put two plus two together. Get your stuff together and let’s go. Bring a book or something to do just in case.”

We took my car because Greg’s had been acting up and we didn’t want to chance it. We got there and one of the young and beautiful female doctors came up, put her hand on his arm and said, “Oh, thank God you’re here. Tom has been going nuts trying to hunt you down. I’ve been calling Barber shops all over your area. Come on, he’s in room 433.”

They took off and I wasn’t sure what I was suppose to do so I sat down in the waiting area with my text books and tablets. One of the residents I had met at the Halloween party, Joel Anderson, saw me waiting and took pity on me. “Maggie, what are you doing here?

“Waiting for Greg.”

“Oh man, House is going to be awhile. His patient is better but there have been some complications. Come with me, I’ll put you in the doctor’s lounge.”

I followed him to a lounge with several couches, a bookshelf with paperbacks and games, a television and vending machines. There were also tables and chairs which is where I set up shop. I began to organize my notes and draft my outline for my next essay. I was starting to make headway when I saw Greg’s blue eyes in the little window of the door. It opened and I smiled at him.

“I’m just about done. Are you ok?”

“Fine, but how is it going?”

“We managed to diagnose the immediate problem, the one that was causing the organ failure. But now we need to figure out why he still has a rash and is vomiting. I think it’s a reaction to the first batch of antibiotics. We’ll know in a few minutes.”

He was standing by the door but then he almost danced up to me and reached down and gave me a kiss. I grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it and then he left. He showed up half an hour later and was ready to go. He was wired and excited, like he was on a high. He helped me put my books into my backpack and then he picked it up to carry it for me. It was too late for the movies and so we went out for drinks with some of the Residents.

“House, you were awesome. Poor Tommy boy, he didn’t know what hit him...the House tornado...you ran rings around him. You get away with more crap because you’re brilliant.” Joel was holding up a beer in salute to Greg.

“Yeah, I thought he was going to have apoplexy when you came up with Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever. How did you come up with that?” the young brunette, Donna Hall asked.

I was keeping my eye on her. She seemed to preen a lot around Greg and she flattered him whenever she could. She was also very pretty and tall.

“It just fit. I had been reading a journal from Italy and it was featured in it.”

“Well, I think you just saved Tommy Boy’s butt.” Joel said.

House and the rest of them did a post mortem analysis on the whole case, most of which I could not follow. But they were all having a great time and enjoying the night. Greg bought a round of drinks which shocked the entire table. I found out later that Greg was considered the king of cheap and frequently got others to pay for his meals and drinks.

I went to the restroom and when I came out Donna Hall had her mitts on Greg. She had her arm around his waist and was looking deep into his eyes. I walked around so that she couldn’t see me but Greg could. Once he caught site of me he straightened up and tried to pull away but she kept holding him and talking to him. He was very nervous, looking at her, smiling and acknowledging what she was saying and then looking up at me. I had my head tilted to the side with an amused look on my face. He finally waved for me to come over. I went over and he grabbed me and gave me a very deep kiss which would advertise to anyone that we were together, really together. Donna went back to her stool and sat down with a look of defeat. I was so jazzed. It was an incredible thing for him to do.

After a couple more drinks, I poured Greg into the car and started the drive home. He was drunk, but then he was a lightweight when it came to hard liquor. “Maggie May, are you happy?”

“Yes Greg, very. What about you?”

“I’m so happy, I’m scared.”

“I don’t follow honey, what do you mean?”

“Being happy scares me, I don’t have control over it. At least when I’m miserable, I can control how miserable I am. But happiness, it feels like it’s out of my control. It feels good to be happy but sometimes it makes me miserable because I feel like it can’t last.”

“Greg, life is a pendulum. If you always felt happy you wouldn’t have anything to compare it to and you wouldn’t know how good it actually feels. There are going to be good times and bad times, you just have to appreciate both when they come around.”

“Appreciate both?”

“I’ve learned more about life and happiness from the bad times than I ever did in the good times honey. So, you’re happy?”

“Yep. I just solved a case and I’m going home with the woman I love...what could be better than that?”

My heart leapt and I tried to contain my excitement over the fact that he just, in around about way, told me he loved me. I was trying not to cry or make a big fuss over it. I knew I could scare him if I said anything.

“Well, we’re home.”

We got in the door and although he made overtures for having sex, by the time I got back from the bathroom he was dead asleep. I crawled in next to him and watched him sleep. He was so beautiful.

I went back to school after the semester break was over. During my first week of the new semester Professor Perkins sent a note to my class asking me to stop by his office. I traveled across the campus to the older section and the English/Communications faculty offices. I found Professor Perkins’s office and knocked on the door. He opened the door and smiled widely.

“Maggie, it’s great to see you. How was your break?”

“Great, I went home to San Diego for Christmas.”

“I envy you, I once went to San Diego and thought it was paradise...all that sunshine.”

“Yeah, it sometimes gets boring. Professor, what did you want to see me about?”

“Come in, sit down.” He showed me a chair, “Every year we are asked to put up a name from the juniors for a fellowship to Cambridge University for creative writing and we, that is the English Department, believe you are the best candidate. The fellowship begins the fall after you graduate.”

“You mean do a fellowship in Cambridge, New England or Cambridge, England?”

“Peterhouse College, Cambridge University, Cambridge, England.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“We are going to put three names up. Yours will be the first and your slot will remain open until the end of your senior year when you will have to give us a yes or no. If it is no, then we ask the next in line and so forth.”

“Creative writing?”

“Have you ever given thought to writing as a career?”

“I was going to do law.”

“Law school will still be there, this will look good on your resume for the rest of your life. And it will help you get into law school. Only one person gets this scholarship and fellowship each year. For now, just agree to let us put your name forward, you’re going to have almost 18 months to make a decision.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense. Ok, I guess so. Professor Perkins, thanks so much for your interest and your kindness.”

“Maggie, you’ve earned this. You are the best talent I’ve seen in years and the rest of the faculty agrees. Your papers are well thought out, creative and well written. You really do deserve this and I am excited for you. You know, I received this fellowship nine years ago and it changed my life. It also let me write my ticket to teach at any University I wanted.”

“Well once again, thank you. Really, thank you. If I go, I hope I live up to your expectations.” I started to get up to leave.

“Don’t worry about that, just live up to your own expectations.” He stood up and opened the door for me.

“Thanks, bye.”

“Bye Maggie.”

I didn’t know what to think. Going to Cambridge University to do a fellowship would be a wonderful opportunity to learn a lot about fiction and literature and writing. I hadn’t thought about creative writing as a career, but it had been my favorite class, I enjoyed it tremendously. But I would be gone for a year. I couldn’t imagine leaving Greg for a year. We had just discovered our feelings for each other. But would I feel that way in 18 months?

I didn’t want anyone to know about the offer, I knew that Greg would probably encourage me to go even if he really didn’t want me to leave. I just wanted this to be my decision and mine alone.

For the rest of the week I was distracted. I was grateful that it was the beginning of the semester and I wasn’t under any pressure. When Friday rolled around I got home and found Greg in bed. He had just finished a 36 hour rotation and was dead on his feet. I pulled down the blinds and closed the door to the bedroom. Around 6:30 p.m. Greg came out in his boxers and plopped down next to me on the couch. He sighed and rubbed his face.

“What are you watching?”

“America’s Most Wanted. I think I saw your photo.”

“Did I look good?” he asked.

“Oh baby, you were hot.”

“Anything to eat?”

“I have a roast in the oven. It will be done in a few minutes. Do you want something to drink?”

“A beer would be good.”

I got up and got him a beer and opened it for him. I went back into the kitchen and put the rolls in the oven. He came into the kitchen and watched me. I took the roast, potatoes, carrots and onions out. I stirred in the water and cornstarch to make the gravy. Once it thickened I poured it into a server and then I pulled the rolls out of the oven.

“Why do you do this?” I asked.

“What?”

“You come in here and just stare at me while I fix a meal.”

“It’s no big deal.” he shook his head no.

“What? Come on tell me.”

“I just can’t believe that, no matter how tired you are, you do this for me. It’s like it’s own little ritual and then at the end I get to eat it. What do I do for you?”

“Good question, care to answer that one for me?” I continued to prepare the meal.

“I don’t know. I don’t make much money right now. I snore. I hate to clean. I don’t work on cars. Frankly, I don’t know why you stick around.”

“Again, good question...I think we should explore this later. Let’s eat.” I started dishing out his food.

“I love you Maggie May.”

I sat down, took a deep breath and told him, “I love you too Greg.”

He reached over and gave me a quick kiss and then started eating as if there was no tomorrow. Once the ice was broken, Greg told me frequently that he loved me. I received cards and letters and little gifts, all with assurances that he loved me. One night we were in bed just talking and he turned on his pillow and looked at me.

“I still don’t believe I feel like this. I just can’t imagine a day without you in it. Maggie May, promise me you won’t leave me.”

“I won’t leave you Greg, I love you.”

“I don’t know why. I’m not very lovable.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” We moved together and fell asleep just holding each other.

Towards the end of February, Greg took me sledding. He acted like he was the authority on sledding even though we had both grown up in San Diego. Now mind you, I do remember that he and my brother went up to the Laguna Mountains to sled. The Laguna Mountains are forty-five minutes outside of San Diego but still, that hardly made him the sledding authority.

On our third run down, Greg was on the back of the sled when we hit a rock or something. He bounced off the back of the sled and rolled down the hill. He was rolling so fast he actually passed me, still on the sled, on the way down. The whole hill was full of people sledding and everyone stopped and watched him until he hit bottom and was splayed on the ground. When I got to the bottom I was trying to ask him if he was ok but I was laughing so hard I couldn’t get it out. All I saw was this pair of blue eyes looking up at me with a look of bewilderment. I laughed so hard that I actually peed myself a little. He managed to stand up and when everyone knew he was in one piece the whole hill broke out into spontaneous clapping. He took a bow and then grabbed the sled and we went back up. After several hours of sledding we went to the local café and had hot chocolate. Greg ordered a Reuben and I ordered a cheeseburger. Life was good.

The entire year was made up of these moments. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I would come home and find a tablecloth on the floor, pillows, pizza, wine and candles with Greg in his boxers and a tie around his neck waiting for me. He played my favorite music on the stereo and then he serenaded me with a song on my new guitar. I still smile when I think of him sitting in the middle of the floor in that tie.

That doesn’t mean we didn’t argue. I remember we argued about the division of duties around the house. I was having trouble keeping up in my classes and it was hard coming home and doing all the work. I finally blew a gasket when I got home one day and his clothes were all over the bedroom and not in the hamper.

“What does it take to get you to put your damn clothes in the hamper? Wait, what does it take for you to WASH a load of clothes once in awhile? You did before I came to live here!”

“If you haven’t noticed I just got off working 36 hours straight. Making sure my boxers got into a hamper was high on my list. SLEEP WAS HIGH ON MY LIST.”

“Oh and I’m not tired too?” I asked.

“Well, you certainly look tired. In fact, you haven’t really been trying to look anything but tired. You might try putting on some makeup or some nice clothes. I’m getting tired of the designer sweat clothes look.”

“Well, if you would take me somewhere...maybe I would think about getting dressed up and putting on makeup.”

“You’re the one with the money...perhaps you should take me some place nice. But I would settle just for the woman who used to sleep with me. The one who was exciting and inventive in bed.”

“You’re a jerk. Why don’t you go see if Donna will service you. I’m sure she’ll wear makeup and, and....aghhh.” I ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. I yelled through the door, “Don’t even think about sleeping in here tonight.”

“Don’t worry, I was going to give Donna a call.” He yelled back.

“Screw you...” I screamed.

“I’m sure she will...”

Everything went quiet and I fell onto the bed and screamed into my pillow and started to cry and cry and cry. I heard the car start and back out of the drive. I eventually fell asleep. I don’t know what time it was when I woke up with him pulling me next to him and holding me tightly. I was mad at him and I started pushing away from him. He grabbed me and held me so that I couldn’t fight him. He laid down on top of me, pinning me down, while he reached up and turned on the bedside lamp. Then he rolled off of me and I looked around. There were flowers and candy bars and cookies everywhere. He had snuck in with a flashlight and set it all up.

“I’m really sorry. I don’t deserve you. Want a Snickers?” he gave me a silly look and held up a Snickers bar.

I rolled my eyes. I wanted to stay angry, but he had to have spent all of the coming week’s lunch money on this display of affection. Plus, I had to admit it was pretty inventive...he knew exactly what I liked. Flowers and cheap chocolate.

“You said some hateful things Dr. House. You owe me big-time.”

“I’ll do all the laundry tomorrow and I’ll cook you a meal.”

What is a girl to do? He could be so manipulative, knowing exactly how hard it would be for me to resist all of this. He kept eyeing me and then he gave me a side look like,

“Have I convinced her?” He leaned in and kissed me. His hands went down my pajamas and he went above and beyond the call of duty to make sure I remembered this night. I had a personal best of four orgasms in thirty minutes. God he was good. Very good. I reciprocated and we both fell back absolutely exhausted. Makeup sex was the best.

***

I was glad to see summer come. I found a job in a law office in Baltimore as a floater. It meant that I filled in when other secretaries went on vacation. It was really interesting because I learned a lot about the practice of law from reading the pleadings, discovery and letters. I was impressed with how fascinating it all was and how complicated it could be. Some of the lawyers hit on me and I was flattered. I was invited out for drinks with some of the lawyers and staff and so I went. I called Greg and invited him to join us after his rounds were done. By the time he showed up I was surrounded by several rather cute lawyers. He looked so sexy walking in wearing levis and a t-shirt. All the lawyers were in their suits with their ties half-way undone. He walked up and stood behind one of the lawyers. I smiled at him and he shrugged his shoulders as if to say he couldn’t get through them to me.

“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Doctor Gregory House. He’s doing a residency at Johns Hopkins.” They all turned around to look at him. He gave them the Cheshire Cat smile. He gave them all a little wave. I started giggling. They parted and Greg walked up to me and planted a big one right on my lips.

Greg was doing better at the hospital. He already had a reputation of being brilliant. Whenever we would go out with other doctors they would corner me and ask me what it was like living with the brilliant but demented Doctor House. I told them that he was never boring.

In June, just after I got out of school, the Houses came out to visit for Greg’s birthday. I moved into the guest room and we let them have our room while Greg slept upstairs on the blow-up bed. It was a strain having to pretend that we were just roommates. I begged Greg to let me tell his Dad.

“Why did you say, “Let’s tell your Dad” and not, “tell your parents” or “tell your Mom and Dad?” Does my mother know?”

He was always vigilant, able to hear things and analyze things that you didn’t want analyzed.

“Yes, she knows and she thinks I’m to blame for all of this.”

“What?? How long has she known?”

“Since last Thanksgiving.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“You would have just freaked out...kind of like what you’re doing now.”

“Christ...how do you know that my Dad doesn’t know?”

“Because your mother told me to lie to him.”

“Jesus. What did she say?”

“That she wanted you to be happy but wasn’t sure that you could be happy.”

“I am happy.” he said convincingly.

“I am too. Now please let me tell you Dad.”

“No Maggie May, no. He won’t understand. I don’t care if he’s disappointed in me, he’s always disappointed in me, but I don’t want him to be disappointed in you.”

“Don’t you think that’s my decision to make?”

“No, I know how my Dad thinks. The answer is no.”

I bit my tongue and continued to play out the charade. We didn’t touch each other when they were around. I had to watch what I said, keep myself from using any endearments. We even had to watch the way we looked at each other. No longing, no lusting, no looks that said how much we cared.

We had a good time with his folks. Even Greg got along with his Dad. His parents went with him to Johns Hopkins and when everyone came up and told them what a brilliant son they had, they were very proud and pleased. Even Greg could see how proud his Dad was. After they left we celebrated by making love in every room in the house...it was too much fun.

I waited until they left to give Greg’s birthday present because it would have looked suspicious. I bought him an upright piano. A baby grand wouldn’t have fit in the living room so I had to settle on the upright. It was a good upright piano though, a Yamaha.

When he got home I met him on the porch and made him close his eyes. When he opened them and saw the piano, he looked down at the floor and smiled and then he gave me a hug and a kiss. “Thank you. Thank you. Maggie May, what did I ever do to deserve you.”

“Yeah, well you keep that thought. In the meantime, play something.”

“I’m going to be rusty.”

“Then you better get started.”

He went over and started playing and for the next month every time he came through the front door he headed over to the piano. Sometimes I would go over and sit on the floor with my back up against the piano as he played. He kept looking around the corner to see if I was ok and then he would just shake his head in disbelief.

“You are so strange.”

“Keep playing.”

After the fall semester of my senior year started, I began to get headaches. They started out just being once or twice a week, but after a month I was starting to get them almost every day. The pain was usually tolerable but occasionally I would get one that would send me to bed. I started taking aspirin by the handfull and Greg finally started to become alarmed.

“You need to get checked. I can get you into the clinic today so why don’t you come with me?”

“Not today, I have an exam. What about tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“What do you think it is?”

“Well Jim, I’m a doctor not a magician. It does help if I have a little more information and maybe run some tests. But I suspect it is hormonal.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t have them as bad when you have your period. So it probably has something to do with the birth control pill you’re on.”

After a few tests, the doctor suggested that I go off the pill for awhile to see if it helped. She measured me and then gave me a prescription for the diaphragm. I got it and a tube of spermicidal jelly. When Greg got home that night I told him about the diaphragm and he shook his head.

“Well there goes the spontaneity factor. You have to think ahead to make a diaphragm work.”

“Or you could wear a condom.”

“And miss out on that great Kegel action?”

Our relationship was like most couples. We got used to each other and to some extent we took advantage of each other. But we also had many moments in each day where we would stop and kiss or hug or just acknowledge the existence of the other.

Greg wouldn’t go with me to Thanksgiving in San Diego. I was rather upset because we hadn’t spent one together since we were young. But I couldn’t bear the thought of John and Blythe being alone on Thanksgiving. I did get Greg to commit to going home for Christmas.

When he got home to San Diego, Blythe invited just about everyone we knew over for a party. We had a great time and Greg got a little tipsy. When we went to bed in our respective rooms I was ready to get some shuteye, I was tired from having gotten up early to clean house and help Blythe in the kitchen. About ten minutes after I turned off my light, the door squeaked open and Greg tiptoed into the room, sat down on the edge of the bed, “Let me in.”

“No, go back to your own bed.”

“Oh come on, they’re asleep on the other side of the house. They won’t hear us. I can leave before they get up.”

“No Greg, I don’t want to chance it. Let me tell your Dad tomorrow and then you can climb in bed.”

“No, don’t tell him, he won’t understand. Come on, let me in and I’ll go back in a little bit. Come on...” He started to get under the covers and push me over.

“It’s a twin bed Greg, don’t push me over too far.”

He pulled me up against him and held me. We didn’t have sex, he just wanted to hold me. It felt good to be in his arms and before I knew it, I was dead asleep.

Greg’s Dad always made me breakfast at least one morning when I would visit. He’d put it on a tray, fix it up nice and deliver it to my room. You can probably guess that this was the morning he made breakfast.

I heard his voice but before it could register that he was just about to enter my room and that Greg was in my bed, the door opened. Greg lifted his head up and I raised myself up so quickly I almost got whiplash.

“Jesus Christ...what in the hell is going on here?”

“John, let me explain. Greg and I are in love. Please, let me just explain.”

“I don’t believe it. You couldn’t keep your hands off of her could you? You had to spoil her life too.” He was yelling at Greg who was up on his elbows gritting his teeth and ready to explode.”

“Greg, don’t say anything, let me handle this.” I put my hand up to stop him from saying anything.

Blythe was on the scene by now and she was shaking her head in disappointment. “John, they’ve been together now for over a year. They care for each other, they always have. It’s no one’s fault.”

“Yes it is, Greg’s almost ten years older than her. He’s a grown man and she’s not even 21. You are a real disappointment Greg.”

“Yeah, well the feeling is mutual.” He obviously wanted to say more, “Come on Maggie, get your things, we’re leaving.”

“Greg, please don’t go. Let’s all sit down and talk about this.” His mother was desperate.

“Your Mom’s right, let’s sit down and talk.” I tried to sound calm.

“What’s there to talk about? I want him out of this house. When he grows up, maybe we can have a decent conversation.” John was hurt and angry.

“John, if you kick Greg out, I have to go with him. I love him, I really love him dearly. If he isn’t welcomed here, then neither am I.” I knew that this would hurt him because John always thought of me as his daughter and treated me like a princess. I think he felt like Greg had committed incest...even though we weren’t related and hadn’t really lived in the house at the same time.

“Maggie, you’re always welcomed here, but if you have to go, I guess you have to do what you think is best.” John turned around and left.

I was in my flannel pajamas, thank God. and Greg was in his boxers. His mother followed John out to the living room to try and talk some sense into him but it was no use. Both John and Greg were being stubborn. I felt so guilty, like I had brought this on. In some ways I was sure that Blythe was going to blame me. We were all in pain.

Greg and I packed and checked into a hotel. I called Blythe and let her know where we were at. I apologized to her.

“It was bound to happen, we should have told him before you came.” she said sadly.

“I begged Greg to let me tell him.”

“I know. Well give it some time, maybe he’ll accept it.” she said halfheartedly.

I could see how upset Greg was. No matter how Greg tried to package it, he cared what his father thought and he felt this rejection keenly. I didn’t know how to make it better. When Greg came back from his walk around the bay, I patted the bed next to me. He came over and laid his head down on my lap and I stroked his hair. He then looked up at me and we kissed. Our lovemaking was in silence and I had a horrible feeling about all of this, like something was spinning out of control. When Greg climaxed he simply turned over and went to sleep. I had been so upset and worried over him that it didn’t occur to me until late that night that I did not have my diaphragm in. I just prayed we were ok.

Greg and I flew back to D.C. before Christmas Day and celebrated it quietly in our house. I roasted a turkey with all the fixings and we spent the day watching a Twilight Zone marathon. He was starting to joke around a little and I thought that was a good sign. He gave me a ruby ring that was inscribed, “Il mio amore sempre, Greg.” I gave him a Rolex watch that was engraved on the back, “Your love is my world.” Maggie May. We smiled at each other and held hands as we watched the Twilight Zone into the night. When we went to bed we kissed and turned out the lights.

***

New Years 1989 seemed to be nondescript. The year was welcomed quietly in our home with no fanfare. Greg was somewhat quieter than usual and at times he was mean to me, more so than his usual cutting wit. I was hoping it would pass soon. I knew he was still upset over his father and work was getting stressful again because of a new head of the department.

I returned to finish my senior year. My last semester wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. I had a criticism class, two literature classes, my last science course, Biology and another writing course. I was worried that it might overwhelm me.

On my first day back to school I got the stomach flu and started throwing up. I went home and straight to bed. I couldn’t afford to miss any classes and I was nervous when I woke up the next day still sick to my stomach. Greg was on a rotation and wasn’t suppose to be home until Wednesday. I forced myself to go to class even though I had to leave a couple of times to throw up. By Wednesday I didn’t have an appetite but I wasn’t throwing up. Greg came home and went right to bed after dinner. We didn’t have time to talk.

I had a late night Thursday and still wasn’t feeling my best. I got home and went to bed myself. I was dead tired. When I woke up on Friday, Greg and I made love. It was when he fondled my breasts and they hurt that I realized I might be pregnant. I was shocked when Greg rolled on his back after sex and said, “You’re tired, you’ve got no appetite, your breasts are tender and they’re larger and you haven’t started you period. You better get a pregnancy test.” And then he rolled away from me and went to sleep.

I was scared to death. This was a nightmare. I didn’t want a child right now, not during my last semester and not with Greg acting so strange. But the reality was that I didn’t have the emotional backbone to have an abortion. I just couldn’t stand the thought of killing a baby that was part Gregory House.

I went to the drugstore on Friday and purchased a test. When I got home I read the instructions and had to wait for the next morning to take it. Greg was in bed when I got up and went into the bathroom. I peed on the stick and then waited for the result. As I was waiting, Greg came into the bathroom. He leaned up against the bathroom door and waited as I sat on the toilet lid. I read the results and started to cry. He looked at it and then kneeled down and looked at me.

“Maggie May, don’t cry. We’ll get through this.” he looked at me with those beautiful, clear blue eyes.

“Will we Greg, will we?” I wasn’t convinced.

We didn’t talk about it until late that afternoon.

“You are in the middle of your last semester and you’ve already told me how rough it’s going to be. I’m starting my nephrology residency and it’s going to be hell the first few months as they rake the newbie across the coals. I’m just not the best candidate for fatherhood, especially now. You know this is probably the worst timing ever. Maggie, I know you’re going to hate what I have to say, but I want you to have an abortion. I know its your decision, but that’s my opinion.”

I threw up right in the middle of the living room. He was upset but he helped me clean it up. I was sobbing and when he didn’t come over and put his arm around me I knew things were going to get worse.

He didn’t try to comfort me and I didn’t reach out to him. It wasn’t as if I wanted the baby, I just knew I didn’t want to get rid of it. I stopped sleeping and we stopped talking. We especially didn’t talk about the baby. When I was six weeks pregnant he came home and sat down next to me.

“You aren’t sleeping, you aren’t eating and you are going to have problems in school if you don’t make up your mind. I’ve made an appointment at the clinic for an abortion this Friday. You don’t have to go, but if you do I will be there with you.”

I wasn’t able to think. My whole life was upside down and my best friend and lover wasn’t really willing to discuss what was bothering me. I had no one to turn to. I didn’t have Blythe, John or Greg. The three people I loved the most were not available to me for help.

I woke up on Friday, the appointment was at 10:00 a.m. Greg turned over in bed when he realized I was awake. Tears were streaming down my cheeks and onto the pillow. He reached over and held my hand.

“You really think this is for the best?” I asked him.

“Yes, I do. We can have children later, when we are both in a better place.”

“I’ll get ready.” I got up, took a shower and put on some loose clothes as was suggested by the handout Greg brought home. We drove to the hospital in silence with Greg occasionally patting my leg.

When we got into the clinic room the physician’s assistant took one look at my eyes and said, “Honey, are you sure this is what you want? You look like you haven’t slept or eaten for awhile. Do you want me to continue?

I was quiet for a moment. Greg squeezed my hand and I finally nodded my head yes. I laid back and they prepared me. I couldn’t watch the procedure but I heard what sounded like a vacuum and I experienced some pain and discomfort. When it was over, Greg was given the handouts with the aftercare instructions and they gave me a kotex for me to wear home.

I was numb. Greg had some Vicodin for me and I took them. When we got home I went straight to bed and to sleep. I had a dream of Greg and I walking on the walkway at the beach next to Belmont Park. We were pushing a baby stroller. We stopped to look at the sunset over the ocean. I kneeled down to take care of the baby and the only thing there was a bloody receiving blanket. I woke up in a cold sweat. I must have jerked the bed when I did because I woke Greg. He turned over.

All I could say was, “What have we done?” Greg tried to hold me and I pushed off of him. “No Greg, leave me alone. I just don’t want to be touched tonight, leave me alone.”

I spent the next few weeks trying to catch up in school. It was the only thing I could do to stop the feeling of guilt wafting over me. Greg tried to be kind but I just couldn’t deal with anything but school. The next few months were strained. I blamed myself more than I blamed anyone. After three months, Greg started to make comments about my looks, my demeanor, my vacant stares. He didn’t know how to handle my depression. I just kept working at my classes.

I didn’t know then but I found out later that Professor Perkins had called my house to get information for the scholarship and fellowship committee. Greg had answered the phone.

“Is this Maggie’s boyfriend, the doctor?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“This is Professor Perkins. Is she there?”

“No, she’s at the library on campus.”

“Oh well I guess I can run over there. If she gets home before I can talk to her, tell her we need her passport number and her social security number for the scholarship checks.”

Greg played along, “Sure, the scholarship. Why do they need them?”

“Well, if she agrees to take the Fellowship then we need to get the scholarship checks converted into pounds sterling. We need to open an account for her in Cambridge so that we can transfer the funds. They need the passport number and social security number to do that. But we won’t actually open the account until she agrees to accept the scholarship and fellowship”

Greg knew Perkins taught Creative Writing. “So this scholarship is for Creative Writing studies at Cambridge University?”

“Yes, didn’t you know about this?” Perkins asked.

“Oh sure, but I couldn’t remember if it was for law or creative writing, she’s been thinking about both.”

“Oh, well it’s the Wilde scholarship for Creative Writing at Peterhouse College, Cambridge University. Please help me talk her into it. It’s a great honor and she will regret it all of her life if she doesn’t take it.”

“When does she have to give you her decision?” Greg asked.

“By Monday, the last day of school.”

“I’ll make sure she goes.” Greg hung up.

When I got home Greg said, “I feel like we’re in the middle of a train wreck and I don’t know how we’re going to get out of it.”

“We just have to give it time.” I tried to smile at him.

“But you’re never going to forgive me for arranging the abortion.”

“I don’t need to forgive you, I need to forgive myself. It just takes time. We have to ride this out together, don’t worry, it will work out.” I told him, hoping to convince myself as well as him.

It was Thursday and I had my last final. The last day for the faculty to get in the grades was Monday. I tried to contact Professor Perkins to let him know that I would not be accepting the Fellowship or Scholarship but his answering machine was full. I decided that I would go in on Monday and tell him in person. I didn’t want to give up on Greg and I knew that no matter what had happened, I loved him more than anything in the world. If I went away now it would probably be the end of us. That scared me more than anything in the world. I couldn’t bear it if I lost him too.

Greg was suppose to get home Friday off of a 36 hour rotation. I decided to go get in some groceries and sundries. I got back at 4:30 p.m. and was relieved to see his car in the drive. I took in some of the groceries and put away the cold ones. I figured Greg must be asleep. I went down the hall and heard movement in the bedroom. I opened the door and saw a naked Greg pounding away at the gorgeous and naked Donna Hall. He looked up and saw me but kept going without missing a beat.

I walked out to the kitchen and sat down. I didn’t know what I was suppose to do or what I was suppose to feel. I went blank. Greg came out and grabbed some water out of the tap. “I haven’t loved you for sometime now. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” And then he went back to the bedroom. A few minutes later they both came out and left.

I couldn’t get my mind around what I had just seen or what he had just said. I didn’t know if it was real. I sat in the kitchen staring at the refrigerator for several hours. I finally got up and went back to our bedroom. I could smell the sex in the room. I pulled out the suitcases from the guest room closet and started to pack what I could. I grabbed all my texts and paperwork, passport, bank books and all the documents that I might need. I threw in some underwear and then started to fill the rest with clothes. I put then in the car and then I grabbed other things, photos, pictures off the wall, my jewelry and my guitars. I threw them in the back seat and I waited.

I think he was disappointed when he got home and I wasn’t gone. He came in, threw his keys on the top of the piano and sat down on the bench. Was sitting, waiting for him on the couch.

“I just want to know if that was all staged for my view? It won’t matter what you answer, you obviously want me out of your life. But I’d just like to know if you meant what you said, about not loving me anymore. I know you want me gone and I’m going, but did you really stop loving me just like that?”

He looked at the floor and not at me, “Just like that.”

I teared up and nodded my head. My voice cracked, “Well, it’s hard for me to believe that someone can stop loving someone “just like that,” but then Greg, you never cease to amaze me. I’ve taken what I need, you can have whatever is left you can have.” I got up and put my purse over my shoulder. I waited a few seconds for him to make eye contact, “I really hope you find happiness again. I hope you find love.”

I left. I took off to D.C. and took a room at the Sheraton. The next morning I took out Professor Perkins’ home phone number that he had given to me to use if I had any questions.

“Hello?”

“Professor Perkins? It’s Maggie.”

“Maggie, are you calling about Cambridge?”

“Yes, I’ve decided to accept it.”

“Great Maggie, you won’t regret it. You are going to have an incredible time over there. Come down to the school and I’ll give you some of the information we just got in from Peterhouse. Bring your passport, I need to photocopy it.”

When I got to his office he was very happy for me until he saw my eyes. He found it difficult to talk to me without asking what was wrong, but I suspect something in him told him not to prick a wound that was obviously still seeping. I tried to sound upbeat and excited but it was exhausting.

I asked him when did I leave and he said that accommodations were available in Cambridge for the summer or I could go over in August. The students didn’t get “sent down”, released for the summer, until late June so the rooms would open up in about two weeks. I had to figure what to do for the next two weeks.

“I’ll mail your documents as soon as they arrive.”

“I don’t have an address right now. I should soon. I’ll call you in a few days to see if they are in, is that ok?”

“I thought you and your boyfriend had a house just north of here?”

“We broke up. I’m going to find someplace to stay for the next few weeks until I leave. By the way, I want to go over as soon as possible.”

“Maggie, I hope you didn’t break up over Cambridge? And I have a friend who’s roommate just graduated, I’m sure she could put you up for a few weeks.”

I thanked him but told him I don’t think I would make great company. “The breakup wasn’t what I wanted, but he did. I guess I don’t read people very well because he told me he hasn’t been in love with me for quite awhile. I could have sworn he still loved me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be discussing this with you.”

“I want you to stay with my friend, she’s pretty sympathetic and she broke up with her boyfriend of three years about six months ago. You guys might be just the perfect fit for the next two weeks. Are you going to walk at graduation?”

“No, there’s no one who would come to watch me.”

I went to stay with Krista Mokowski at her two bedroom apartment. We hit it off right away. It was as if she had ridden the same bus I had and could give me pointers on where to transfer. We talked the first night until 3:00 a.m. about men and relationships.

She was horrified that Greg had brought home a woman and had put her on display like that. She was sure that he had done this on purpose, to push me out the door. I had to agree. He didn’t try to hide what he was doing, he just wanted to make a point and I admit, he made it well.

For two weeks Krista let me cry and curse and cry and curse. We downed pitchers of margaritas and lots of ice cream. On the day I should have walked, she bought me a mortar board and we went out cruising the clubs. When the two weeks were up I felt like I had been given a cathartic male bashing enema. I sold Krista my car rather cheaply and I begged her to come and visit in Cambridge which she promised. I also asked a favor of her.

“Krista, I don’t have anywhere in the USA to send home things, can I send you packages now and then to keep for me? If they become too much, I’ll send you money to store them, ok? She promised me that my things would always have a home with her. I kissed her on the cheek, gave her a hug and boarded the plane.

I looked down at the ground as we took off. I had a strange feeling that I was an expatriate. In a way, I was right, I didn’t touch American soil for another eight years and it was many more before I saw Greg again.

***

THE EXISTENTIAL YEARS

I had shipped most of the things I needed and so when I arrived in England all I had was two bags and my new guitar on my back. I had never been out of the United States and this was thrilling, especially for a twenty year old. I arrived five days after Greg’s birthday on June 16^th. I had come into Heathrow and had to take the train to Victoria Station. I waited in the queue and was asked if I needed a “Return.” I had no clue what this meant until an American man behind me told me it was a round trip ticket. I told the man I only needed a single and he handed me the ticket and my change.

I took the tube to Liverpool Street Station and then the train to Cambridge. I watched as we pulled into several stations on the way. The closer we got on my map, the more anxious I got. I finally saw several cricket pitches and then some of the colleges and spires that mark Cambridge. We pulled in and I grabbed a cab to my lodgings next to Downing College. It was an old brick Victorian house that had been turned into lodging for Fellows. I was given the downstairs room that had once been the parlour. It was a large room with a rather soft mattress. There was a lovely fireplace and ample furnishings. There were heavy drapes with lace curtains underneath so that I could have privacy from the traffic outside. I sighed, laid down just to relax and fell asleep for eighteen hours straight.

I spent the next few months finding my way around Cambridge. The City Centre was made up of a strange shopping mall. The Cambridge public library was in the middle of the mall and you had to take the stairs to get up to it. In the middle of town was the town market that took up an entire block. You could get souvenirs, food, books, hats, main street that bordered several of the major colleges, including Trinity and King’s College. The museum was also on King’s Parade. Heffer’s, the major bookstore for most of the colleges, had all the references that Perkins had suggested I buy right away. So I purchased them and started to review them. I also purchased a bicycle and picked it up after the store put it together and adjusted it for me.

I used to love walking down the “The Backs,” the area behind the colleges that bordered on the Cam river. I would sit and watch people punt up and down the river laughing and having a great time. Cambridge was a beautiful city. It was green and lush with golden stained stoned buildings and large picture glass windows. It had been walked by Kings and Queens, greats like Newton and Hawkings and it spoke its own language of history and romance.

The first time I saw Hawkings in his chair I was in awe. I felt like a child having just seen the Easter Bunny. I didn’t realize that I would see Professor Hawkings many times and would even have dinner with him once before I left Cambridge. I saw several British actors and actresses. It was not uncommon for them to travel to Cambridge for programs or the theater. John Hurt and Jeremy Irons were having drinks in the Cambridge Arms, my favorite pub when I went in for some pub food. They gave me a quick nod and I nodded back. I also saw alumni, John Cleese, in a restaurant having dinner with friends. When he saw that I was eating alone, he actually invited me over. I met his friends and had a lovely time listening to them discuss their days at Cambridge.

I started my Fellowship in August. I was so excited. I was very young, having just turned 21. I felt slightly superior to the rest of the student body because I wore a gown to lectures and seminars that had a gorgeous green satin striping down the front to indicate that I was a Fellow. I also got to walk on the grass that sported the sign, “Fellows Only.” How cool was that?

I studied hard. I wanted Professor Perkins to be happy that he had nominated me. I received several awards for short stories that I had written and I was actually published in a folio of student works for which we were all paid the princely sum of 25.00 pounds. I used it to get drunk.

My days were filled with lively debates, discussions and lectures. My chair met with me and two other students once a week where we shared our work. I went to a lot of readings and plays. I tried to keep every waking moment full. The minute I allowed myself to rest, to relax, the pain and sorrow would overwhelm me and I would end up a corpse in bed, unable to move until the alarm would go off, reminding me of my next seminar.

***

In April, during the spring break, Professor Perkins arrived in Cambridge. He spoke with my chair and professors, all of whom apparently gave me glowing praise, that is , glowing praise for the British. He came to my lodgings and picked me up for dinner. Some of the Fellows went with us and we had a cracking good time quoting Shaw, Chaucer, Thomas, and of course the Bard. We also had a lot to drink and when the landlord called “Last Call” I was feeling no pain. I walked Gerry back to the University Arms Hotel next to Parker’s Piece. We went out and sat on the bench next to Hobbs Pavilion where the cricket teams dressed. I stood up and leaned back against a pole as I looked around the grounds. Gerry came up behind me and kissed the crook of my neck. I was startled at first but then I turned and we kissed.

I went with him to his room and we had a wonderful night together. He was sweet and funny. Not witty like Greg, not manic like Greg, not over the top like Greg. He was kind and gentle and the lovemaking was satisfying. But he wasn’t Greg and I was acutely aware of this. Nonetheless, he was an incredible companion, so we spent the next week traveling around Britain together.

We ended up in Wales and took a detour to visit Dylan Thomas’s home. I fell in love with it. It was a beautiful cottage overlooking the sound. It was peaceful and yet cheerful, which I found a little strange for Dylan Thomas. It was hard driving the car down to it but we eventually got it turned around and made our way back to Hay on Wye, the village known for having dozens of bookstores, used and new. We both spent hours and hours looking through the numerous volumes of non-fiction and fiction. Gerry knew a lot about the history of the country and I felt like I had my own tour guide. When he was leaving to go back to the USA he asked when I was coming home because he would like to see me.

“I don’t think I’m coming home, not yet. Too much to do and see over here.”

“When you get back, please give me a call.”

“I will.”

I kept in contact with Gerry for a long time, giving him updates and letting him know I was ok. About five years later I received a letter telling me he was getting married. I sent him my sincere congratulations and a wedding present. I was genuinely happy for him.

Krista came over in June as I was ending my Fellowship. The Dons and the remaining Fellows all felt sad that it was coming to an end. My chair told me that he expected great things from me but that I needed to get more experience under my belt. I had to agree.

Krista and I took a month to travel around Britain and Europe. We went crazy. We ended our trip by traveling through Sweden and went to a nude beach just south of Stockholm. We were slightly disappointed to discover that most nude people should be clothed. Sadly, we were the hottest two people on the entire beach.

We took kayaks and went in and out of the outer islands off the coast of Stockholm. We met some nice blonde guys who showed us around the City and took us to a dance club. I was duly impressed with their English, considering I knew nothing in Swedish. We danced all night long.

We made our way back to England and took an overnight sleeper to Scotland. The Scottish are suppose to be dour Presbyterians or Calvinists that see evil in happiness. I didn’t find this to be true. The Scottish were funny and slightly mad! They flirted like there was no tomorrow and bought us drinks in the hopes of getting lucky (they didn’t.)

While I was playing in Scotland, Greg had managed to get himself kicked out of Johns Hopkins. He had apparently pissed off the head of Nephrology by insisting that the patient was lying and that he had to have taken some form of hallucinogenic fungi that was causing the kidney failure. Normally this wouldn’t have been so shocking except that the patient was a major donor to the hospital funds. It turned out to be true but Greg was asked to leave because his temper and demeanor had deteriorated over the last year and the department chair was fed up.

When Krista left, I decided to take up residency in London for a few months. I had a work and student visa so I immediately started to look for a job. I got a part time one as an editor. It didn’t pay for all my expenses. I could have dipped into my savings but I was desperate to do things on my own. So I started busking down in the tube for money. Essentially, I sang songs and people threw money into my guitar case. I did fairly well. I tried to stick to songs people knew so that it would jog some warm memory and I would reap the benefit of their nostalgia. I enjoyed living hand to mouth. It felt honest to me.

I managed to land a job in a café in Covent Gardens singing. The owner of the café really took a liking to me. He was very witty and very gay. He took me with him to parties and introduced me to some very important people. In fact, he introduced me to Gianni Ferrari, one of the many Ferrari descendants. Gianni was good looking, not as handsome as Greg, but he had that European flare that made him charming and engaging. He was 27 when we met. Gianni begged me to spend the rest of the summer in Italy with his family in Ferrara, Italy just south of Venice. I didn’t feel I could turn down such a generous offer, so I took him up on it.

Italy reminded me of California in some ways. The weather in the summer was dry and hot like San Diego. The terrain was similar, brown in the summer, green in the winter. I ended up staying with the Ferrari’s much longer than I should of...they were generous and they were genuinely fond of me and I was fond of them. After two years at their villa I almost had to leave in the middle of night or they would never have let me go. Gianni and I were lovers and friends. There were no strings and when I left I gave him a kiss and promised that I would come back.

I left Ferrara in a car that I had bought and went to France. I didn’t like France, I didn’t enjoy it for some reason. To this day I can’t put my finger on why. I didn’t stay too long, but before I left Paris I called Blythe and John.

“Hello?”

“Hello Blythe, it’s Maggie.”

“John ...get on the phone, it’s Maggie. Maggie, darling we’ve been so worried, it’s been three years. Greg told us he had no idea where you were. Where are you?” I heard the other extension pick up and I knew John was also on the phone.

“I’m in Paris right now. I’m on my way to Spain. I’m sorry that it’s been so long. I wasn’t exactly proud of what happened with Greg. All those, ‘I told you sos”.”

“Oh honey, we didn’t mean to scare you off. We just wanted you to know what you were getting into. You know he’s not at Johns Hopkins anymore. He’s at UCLA finishing his residency and...”

“Blythe, please don’t get me wrong, if I’m going to call you two, I need to know that you won’t discuss Greg with me. I can’t go there. I hope you understand?”

John said, “We promise not to talk about him around you, but please don’t be a stranger, please come home and see us.”

“I can’t just yet, but I was hoping maybe you two could come to Europe and we travel around a bit. I think it would be best if we wait until after summer but before it gets too cold. Why don’t you think about coming in September?”

“We’ll think about it sweetie, I think that would be fun. How are you doing? Are you working?”

“I hate to say this but I’ve been a leach off of a family in Ferrara, Italy. They were very good to me and every time I made up my mind to go, they would cry and throw tantrums until I promised to stay. But I speak fluent Italian now and I can make great gnocchi!”

“That’s great! How was Cambridge?” John asked.

“Beautiful and interesting. I learned so much and realized that I’m a writer, not a lawyer. How’s your health?”

“Oh, John’s been having some pain in his shoulder and I’ve got acid reflux disease, but other than that, we’re good.”

The conversation continued for another five minutes and I promised them that I would keep in touch, we were all in tears when we said our goodbyes. I was so happy that they seemed to have forgiven me.

I went to Spain and stayed in Madrid for awhile and then started to travel. I knew Spanish and so I was able to communicate and get job at a local camp outside of Barcelona. It was run by an English couple, Stimo and Evelyn. They had me cleaning around the camp, cooking, serving and entertaining the customers. I was wiped out at the end of the day, but again, it was an honest living and I was enjoying being young and energetic. On my days off we would play back yard cricket and drink tea and eat cucumber sandwiches on the veranda overlooking the neighboring vinery.

That fall the Houses came to visit me in Spain. I quit my job so that I could travel around Europe in my car with them. The Houses were impressed with my ability to drive anywhere in Europe and speak bits and pieces of several languages. I took them to Ferrara just to meet my Italian family. Gianni grabbed me and hugged me as soon as he saw me. I made the introductions and we all sat down for one of Mama Ferrari’s wonderful dinners. We ultimately ended up spending the night. I stayed with Gianni.

“He’s very handsome and very European! What’s going on between the two of you? Are you in love?” Blythe was hoping that I had moved on.

“No, we’re not in love. We have a very good and close relationship but we aren’t in love. Or at least, I’m not in love with him and he’s never said anything to me.”

The Houses went home after a month and I was so sad to see them go. They begged me to come home for Thanksgiving. I told them that I couldn’t, not yet, but that I would make sure that I kept them posted on my travels. I knew that they were worried about me, but I told them not to worry, I seemed to land on my feet.

The Ferrari’s allowed me to store some of my belongings at their house because I had decided to go to India. I packed what I needed into one large backpack and Gianni took me to the airport.

“Bella Maggie, you are crazy. You should not go alone. If you wait a few months, I can take you. “

“No, I’ll be ok. I’ll miss you and I’ll send you lots of postcards. Take care Gianni.”

“Ciao Maggie.”

***

I took off for my Asian adventure. After starting in Madras, I ended up in a village just outside of Zhang-Mu, a border town in Tibet, working in a makeshift missionary hospital and school where I taught English to the local villagers. A lot of students from Cambridge on their year off before University (they frequently take a year off between Sixth form and University) were at the school teaching various classes. I was actually one of the older teachers there. Certainly the most educated. We had a great time together on our time off. We spent most of our days off playing football (soccer) and cricket. I was becoming a pretty good slow bowler. As it turned cold, we played cards and scrabble inside. We were like our own fraternity/sorority.

While I was freezing my butt off during the winter of my 24^th year, Greg was earning a reputation as a world class diagnotician. He was also learning the fine art of golf on his days off. He and another doctor from his hospital, who also had a reputation for being difficult, played twice a week. They seemed to enjoy whining about patients, staff and administration and drinking single malt whiskey together, which Greg could now afford. Greg was nailing a lot of the nurses and the occasional waitress or barmaid. He actually had no excuse not to visit his parents and rather than have them make good on their threats to come visit him at his house, he made the odd trip down to San Diego to see them.

“We received a post card from Maggie.” His mother told him and then watched for his reaction. Only his mother registered the change in posture and fleeting look of pain.

“Great, I’m sure you’re going to tell me all about it...just like you told me all about your European Vacation with her.”

“She’s in Zhang-Mu in Tibet, teaching English to villagers.”

He gave her a look like, “Are you kidding?’”

“Well, nothing like getting a bachelors from Georgetown and a Masters from Cambridge and using it to teach kids in Tibet who probably will never need to speak English.”

“At least she is living her life. What are you doing?”

“Golfing.” He gave her a quick smile and left the room

But Blythe told me that she found the stack of my postcards, which she had organized by the date received, completely mixed up after Greg left that weekend.

I was stranded in Zhang-Mu at the beginning of March 1993. They had too many “volunteers” and had suggested I think about leaving, soon. I wanted to stay in the Himalayas because for some reason I loved being in the mountains. I was about to give up and fly back to Italy when I ran into some Americans in town. They could see that I was either American or British by my clothes and the blonde hair, so they waved me down.

“Excuse me miss, do you know where can we get some food items that we need?”

“What type?”

“Rice, lentils and beans.”

“I’ll take you because you’ll just get lost.”

During our excursion to the shop where the Sherpas sold staples to the mountain guides, I discovered that these two guys were the lead guides of one of the American expeditions that was going to try and summit Everest over the next two months. One was Roger Townsend and the other was Fred Ventura.

“You guys are crazy.” I shook my head in amazement.

“Won’t argue with that. But we have ten climbers paying $65,000 each to do it. We have our license and we’re going to summit probably in May. They have to first acclimate to the first two levels and then we begin the ascent when the weather clears.”

“Hey Maggie, can you cook?” Fred asked.

“Yeah, why?”

Fred and Roger looked at each other and smiled like they just had an epiphany.

“We need an American cook and rather than fly one in from the USA, how would you like to make $30,000 for eight weeks of work?”

“$30,000 for eight weeks? What’s the catch?”

“Horrible working conditions, lots of babysitting and no thanks...but the money is good!”

I thought it over and decided that it was the best offer I had and so I took them up on it. Actually, it was really hard work. Before we climbed to Base Camp, which was at 17,700 feet, we had to load the pack animals with the goods. We smelled horrible afterwards. Then we all had to rush back to Zhang-Mu to take a shower and then pose for photos. Each American had his own individual picture taken with the guides, sherpas and me, and then one taken with whole expedition all together. One of the Americans looked somewhat familiar but I couldn’t place him. In the photos I wore a low cut v-neck thermal top and a skirt, leggings and then muklak boots. My hair was down below my shoulders and had turned a strawberry blonde. Roger had positioned each American male next to me in their individual photo. We had two women on the expedition and when they took their photos I was placed in the back away from them and Terry, a very good looking male guide, took my place up front. I didn’t understand this until later. As Roger said, “Guys like showing off a photo of a hot blonde standing next to them.”

I learned that two of the Americans were doctors and they were doing high altitude research and were willing to pay each of us $500.00 for two samples of blood. One at base camp, one at Camp 1. I signed up.

The Americans expected to be waited on hand and foot and like Fred and Roger said, there were no thanks. I was up sometimes in the middle of the night administering aspirin, cold compresses for nose bleeds, pepto bismol for various stomach maladies (not traced to my cooking thank you.) I slept in a tent at base camp where we would acclimate for the next two weeks before moving up the mountain. I would climb one more level with them and then stay put at Camp 1.

Despite everything, I was having a great time. The guides and sherpas were crazy, loony guys but lots of fun. We joked and kidded each other all the time. We would frequently trade things with other expeditions...sugar for eggs, coffee for spices, whatever you needed at the time. Bartering was half the fun.

Of course we went behind one of the larger bolders to do our “business” which we had to cover with a shovel full of organic enzymes and dirt that was kept behind the rock. It was rough living, but I was having a blast.

One of the Americans was a doctor from Baylor. He was amazed that I was a graduate of Georgetown and Cambridge and ended up cooking in an Everest camp. I shrugged my shoulders and smiled.

“What are you running away from?” he asked.

“What makes you think I’m running away from anything?”

“Someone as bright as you doesn’t come this far because they got lost on a vacation. I don’t know, but you look incredibly familiar to me.” I couldn’t place him at all. “I’m Thomas Duffy and you’re?”

I blushed. Thomas Duffy, I knew that name. He was the head of infectious diseases when Greg was at Johns Hopkins.

“Maggie Molloy.”

“MAGGIE, I knew I recognized you! Wow, you ran as far away from Greg House as one can get, didn’t you? I heard you walked in on him and Hot Pants Donna. Christ what an idiot. None of us understood what he was doing with Donna, considering he had you at home, but then that’s House. He doesn’t play by the rules. You know, after you left him he was impossible to deal with. He was cruel and vicious and poor Donna suffered the most from his tongue. It was like he was punishing her for what he did to you. Man, you escaped a bullet. You ought to be grateful that you left when you did. He started drinking more and he was gambling too. He finally insulted the wrong person and ended up on the fast track to the west coast. I heard he was asked to leave UCLA too. I don’t know where the son of a b!tch is now. But I have to say, if you’re sick and dying, you want Greg House diagnosing you. He’s a genius. An idiot for losing you, but a genius at what he does.”

I really hadn’t wanted to hear any of this. First, it brought up all the images of Greg screwing Donna and then it made me start worrying about why he was drinking, gambling and moving from job to job. I knew I wouldn’t sleep that night and I didn’t. I stayed outside the tent wrapped in layers of thermals and my jacket staring up at the full moon and stars shining off the south face of Everest. I found myself wishing Greg was there to share it with me. He would have been as enchanted as I was.

It took me several days to shake the feeling of sadness and hopelessness I felt. I wanted to just sleep but thank God that wasn’t an option at base camp. We broke camp a few days later and moved up 2,200 feet to the next level, Camp 1. It was harder to breathe at this level and colder. I had four more weeks at this level before my stint was over.

Terry and Fred convinced me to go with them up part way to Camp II, another 1,400 ft up. We weren’t actually going the entire way, just to the large crevice so that they could take my picture crossing the ice ladder. The ice ladder was usually crossed with crampons and trepidation. One slip and you fell thousands of feet to your death. However, Fred and Terry had rigged a back brace for me with cables that came out of the bottom of by my ski pants. It allowed me to cross the ice ladder and, if I fell, I would be suspended between the two edges of the crevice, but I wouldn’t fall very far. They could then pull from one side and I would be dragged over. The cables were hidden and so the boys got the idea to send me out to the middle of the ice ladder and let me dangle my legs over the edge. They asked me to take off my jacket and so I sat there, in my thermal top looking like I’m having fun dangling my legs over a massive crevice, when in fact I’m scared to death. But the photo looked spectacular. When I saw the photo I laughed and was grateful that the Houses would never see it or they would have me committed. I look like a lunatic about ready to jump from a skyscraper.

Tom started to hit on me at Camp 1. He was cute enough and he had that doctor mojo going on but I didn’t want him going home and at some medical seminar start bragging that he had nailed Greg House’s ex girlfriend. But then there was a part of me that did want him to go back and tell Greg that the guy he hated had been with me. Ah, but I couldn’t do that, my motto was, “The best revenge is living well.

I got back to Camp 1 and while I was there Tom drew my blood sample. I spent the next two weeks listening on the radio to the expedition ease it’s way up and finally summit on a nice clear day. The radio crackled the next night with disaster as several people failed to get off the summit in time to beat a freak storm. It was so painful to hear the voices of people fade as they died. We were the only expedition that didn’t lose a client on the South face that year.

When the expedition was over, I helped break camp at Camp1. I helped take down the tents, pack up the Yaks at Base Camp and get us back to the village. On the day that I broke camp a woman named Ester died under the care of Gregory House.

That summer, Dr. Thomas Duffy was asked to present his paper in Hawaii at the AMA conference. House was attending to knock out all his yearly education requirements. House had just met a new oncologist at the hospital, Dr. James Wilson, and for some unknown reason, they had hit it off. House wanted to go hassle Thomas Duffy during his speech because he had been his such a pr!ck of a boss. Wilson just wanted to watch. They walked about half way up the aisle and took a seat in the middle of the lecture.

“...which gauges hypoxic ventilatory response, or HVR—in essence one's breathing response to low levels of oxygen. What we do is gradually lower the oxygen level in the inspired air through the mouthpiece. The subject is relaxed, not doing anything. But the body responds—by breathing more. Within five to 10 minutes we can simulate what the brain will tell the body to do at altitude in terms of breathing. So that wraps up the laboratory part. We did blood tests of the guides and staff at both Base camp and Camp 1 at 19, 900 and discovered the same results as the lab so we will be taking that information when we go back to K2.

On a more personal note, I have a few slides of the climb and the staff who gave us the blood samples. He started to click the slides through, this first photos is Mt. Everest. The second slide is a photo of me with the guides and cook with Everest in the background.”

The photo of me standing next to Thomas Duffy flashed up on the screen. There were murmurs through the audience and a couple of wolf whistles. Wilson leaned over to House who was staring intently at the slide, “I think I might consider a trip up Everest if it means I get to summit her.” He leaned back and noticed that either House hadn’t heard him or something was wrong.

“House, do you know that woman in the photo?”

He said nothing but nodded his head yes.

“Who is she? She’s gorgeous.”

“Someone I knew a long time ago.” House was glum.

Duffy continued. “ And here’s our cook on the ice bridge.”

The entire audience made a sound of shock when they saw the photo. The photo was so insane that the audience was talking and laughing for several minutes. Greg was dumbfounded. What was I thinking? The photo made it look much more dangerous than it was.

After the lecture, Greg went straight to Duffy, “Tom, what are you doing with Maggie?”

Tom was trying to answer important medical questions from other doctors who had come up afterwards. But Greg was Greg and he wanted Tom’s attention. He walked up to Tom, “I asked you WHAT WERE YOU DOING WITH MAGGIE?” All the remaining doctors looked at him and shook their heads. They left the room.

Tom turned to Greg, “Maggie was the cook for the expedition. You’ve done a great job House, you’ve manage to turn a gifted and intelligent woman into a cook half way around the world. Maggie waited on me the whole time I was there if you get my drift.” He started to pack up and Greg grabbed him by the collar and went to hit him but Wilson grabbed House’s arm.

“House, House...he isn’t worth this. Come on, let’s get out of here, come on.”

Greg backed down and said, “Don’t go near her again, ever. “

Later in the bar, Wilson asked, “Who is Maggie?”

“Just another good thing in my life that I fu#!ed up.”

***

I went to Japan after India and was surprised to find that Japan is very hot and very humid and they drive like ants on steroids. But the Japanese were so honest and so generous. I left a package with some expensive gifts for the Houses in a store and when I came back an hour later, they were still there. When I admired a woman’s purse, she dumped the contents out and handed it to me. I learned that I had to be careful of what I was doing. One time I stood up while I was eating and discovered that I had insulted the group of Japanese that I was with. I learned a lot about honoring different customs. I spent time with a young Japanese couple, Hiro and Keiko. I slept on tatamis and ate sitting on the floor. I took a bath by heating water in a bucket, squatting over wooden slats, washing and then rinsing out of the bucket. After I was clean I was then allowed to climb into the bathtub and soak in very hot water.

I also went to a public bathhouse and was stared at because of my white skin and long blonde hair. Everywhere I went the Japanese would come up and touch my hair to see if it was real. I was amused.

I spent time on Lake Hakone and Fujiyama. I backpacked around the country for two months and then flew back to Italy for the fall and winter. I thought it was time that I started writing so I asked the Ferraris if I could stay at their guest house on Lake Cuomo for the winter. Since they didn’t use the villa and guest house for most of the winter, they had no problem. I took my car and drove up to the Lake. It was spectacular and I was in love with the area. I spent the mornings walking the edge of the lake and talking to the residents, the afternoons writing and the evenings visiting or reading a book. I thought about Greg at night and wondered if he ever thought of me.

In April of 1994 I had told the Ferraris that I would be out of their guest house. They told me that I could stay as long as I wanted but I felt that I had worn out my welcome. I decided that I would move to Ireland and rent a flat somewhere to finish my book. I drove my car and took the ferry to Dover, crossed Britain and took the ferry to Ireland. I arrived in Dublin and rented a flat near Stephen’s Green. Ireland was a great place for writers. Writers were cherished by the Irish and even given special tax breaks. I wrote several chapters each day and then went out in the afternoons to the local pub, “Brogan’s” where I played guitar and sang songs with the locals.

It was in Brogan’s that I met Toby O’Laughlin. Toby was average looking but he always pulled the women because of his great charm and sense of humor. He started coming into Brogan’s just to talk to me and I was flattered. I found out that Toby owned the local IBM plant and they were starting to manufacture computers in Ireland for sale in Europe. He was incredibly rich but I didn’t know that at first.

Within months I was living with Toby and he was begging me to marry him. I refused. I told him that if he continued to ask me, I would leave. He stopped asking for a few months. We often traveled to Europe to see the Ferrari’s and we would ski in the Alps on our way back. I was happy and I rarely thought of Greg anymore. The Houses did come and visit me in Ireland and they, like everyone else, fell in love with Toby. He treated them as if they were his own parents and doted on them.

One day when we were in bed talking about our upcoming trip, he asked me to marry him. I told him that I loved him but I didn’t think it was the love you build a marriage on.

He asked me,“Is there someone else?”

“Not anymore. He’s moved on with his life and so have I.”

“Something tells me that he may have moved on but you’re still stuck.”

I loved living in the Wicklow Mountains just outside of Dublin. We lived in a manor house overlooking a beautiful valley with a tall waterfall and sweet creek running through it. I would take long walks and talk to the local farmers and shopkeepers. I thought to myself that I really belonged in Ireland. I had the same white legs and freckled nose.

In January, 1995 I sent my manuscript to Professor Perkins and asked him to read and edit it. He sent it back with suggested changes and I made some of them, ignored others. He also sent me the address of a book agent. I sent the manuscript to the agent along with a letter of introduction from Perkins and I was signed. In the Fall of 1995 I received my first check for my book, “Sherpa.” It didn’t make it to the top ten, but it did get up in the top 25 and I received lots of praise for a “first work of fiction.” The story centered around the life of a Sherpa family. It was loosely based on Tng Na’s life, the Sherpa who accompanied me with the cooking gear up the mountain. I was rather proud of myself.

The day I received my first check, Greg House met Stacy in a strip bar. Less than a week later she was living with Greg. Greg enjoyed having a woman living with him again. It had been so long since I had left that he had almost forgotten what it was like when we were together. Holding Stacy in his arms and sharing a bed with her reminded him of me and for a moment a wave of sadness and grief washed through him. It was gone and he was back with Stacy both physically and mentally. Over the next five years something would trigger a memory of me and Greg would be melancholy. Stacy never understood what would trigger one of Greg’s “moods” but she knew that they would pass. As long as she stayed back and let him work it through, they were ok.

I was now using a computer to do my writing and backing up my work on floppy disks. I had started my second novel about an Italian family, a rich Italian family. It had a few more characters in it, but the flavor was Ferrari all the way. I had to stop my writing because Toby had been intrigued by my Sherpa story and we were now training to summit Everest. We spent a lot of time on Ben Nevis in Scotland and several mountain areas in Italy working with mountain climbing instructors. Toby was a natural, I was not. I had to really work at it because I didn’t have the upper body strength he did.

In April of 1996 we flew to Nepal and were met by our guides. One of them was Roger and it was great seeing him again. Toby had paid the $70,000 each for us to summit.

“Man, I had a lot of American men who saw you in our promotional photos ask if they could get their picture taken with just you. When I had to tell them you no longer worked for us, they’d hang up. I lost more business because I couldn’t produce you than because of price or amenities. Why don’t you come back and cook for me?”

He knew this was a long shot. After all, I was standing there as a paying client and I was dressed in the latest and greatest alpine gear. My wardrobe literally screamed, MONEY.

“Oh Roger, been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. I don’t think I’ll be cooking at the bottom of Mt. Everest unless your cook dies on you in the next six weeks!”

We spent weeks acclimating at Base Camp and then moving up the mountain. We went over the Icefall at about 6:00 a.m. If you go over the Icefall when the sun is too far up in the sky, you bake. It gets really hot and you can get disoriented. After the Icefall is the Western Cwm which was not too bad. But climbing the Lhotse Face took a lot out of me and I was wondering if I was going to make it. There were scores of people trying to go up Everest and they were practically falling all over themselves. It slowed the ascent down considerably and when you try to go up Everest, you want to move as fast as you can. We stayed at Camp III waiting for our opportunity to climb the Hillary Face and then summit. The camp was crowded with dozens of people who wanted to summit the next day. Roger came to us and he didn’t look happy.

“Maggie, Toby, this is a circus. I don’t like it one bit. There’s too many people trying to get up the mountain and a lot of them haven’t trained very well. The Aussies lost two on the way down yesterday. I’m going to try and summit tomorrow with those who want to go. But I’m very worried. The crowd is going to slow us down. If we don’t get up and off the summit by 2:00 p.m. we’re going to be in trouble.

I think Toby will make it, even if we have to slow down because of the traffic. But if we get going too slow just the lack of oxygen for a prolonged time is going to weaken us and make it more difficult. Maggie, if you get any weaker than you already are, it’s going to make it tough for you to get up and back. By tough, I mean you might not make it. You know how much I care about you so I’m asking you not to summit.”

“Wow, to come all the way to Camp III and not summit. No, I’ll watch out for her, I’ll make sure she gets up and back.” Toby was upset.

But I knew Roger would never suggest this unless he was truly worried. Toby hadn’t babysat a radio on summit day and listened to the body count of people you had eaten, laughed and lived with over the last six weeks. I knew this was an unforgiving mountain.

“I won’t go. I’m not going to hold up the expedition and more importantly, I’m not going to risk my life. Roger, I know this was hard for you to do, but I trust you. So, I will make my way back to Camp II while you are going up tomorrow.”

“Maggie!!” Toby was shocked.

“Toby, it’s my life and I’m not going to play Russian Roulette with it just so I can wear a sign that says I climbed Everest. I’m ok with this...it’s you that has to accept it.”

It was decided, I made it back to Camp II the next day while Toby, Roger and four others tried to summit. At Camp II I huddled with several others around the radio and became sick as a spring storm swept in unexpectedly, trapping a lot of people on the summit, the Hillary Face and other various paths. 1996 turned into a bloodbath on Everest. I still get chills thinking about all the people that were lost. Luckily, Roger had gotten our group going fairly early and they were already off the summit by 12:30 p.m, before the storm hit. They were able to get down to Camp III and make it through the night.

I was in my tent listening to the storm rage outside and worrying about everyone on the mountain. I heard something outside but Lynn, my tent-mate, told me that it was nothing. I kept hearing moaning. I finally got my alpine gear on, grabbed my flashlight and handed Lynn the end of a piece of rope. If I was blinded in the storm at least I could follow the feel of the rope. It was pure hell. I couldn’t see anything and I was so light that I was getting blown around. In fact, I fell over the guy when a gust of wind whipped me around. He was moaning and almost unconscious. I started to drag him towards the tent. I had a hard time because he was heavy and I was gasping for air. I eventually made it. We got him inside the tent and I put as many blankets over him as I could. It was sad, part of his nose was black, indicating severe frostbite.

By the next morning, he had improved and told us that he had summited but that he got lost in the storm on the way down and had ended up here. I heard on the radio that Toby and Roger were fine, so I helped four others drag this guy down to Camp I. From there he was taken down by others to Base Camp and flown out.

I looked up at Everest and knew, I’d never be back.

***

In 1997 my book, “Mama’s Table” was published and it did make it to the top ten list, but not number one. My agent wanted me to come home and do a book tour at all the major institutions. As I landed in New York my heart raced. I was back on American soil. It felt good to be home.

I started my tour at Harvard, then ESPN in Washington D.C. where I stayed with Krista. She gave me the fifteen packages I had mailed her. They were all finished journals that I didn’t want to lug around with me. After my four days in Washington D.C. I drove up to Princeton for their literary festival. I didn’t know it at the time but I was within a five minute walk to Greg’s office. He was now the head of Diagnostics at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Later, when I got to the west coast and stayed with the Houses, they told me where he was. I imagined what it would have been like if I had run into him and his girlfriend. That would have been difficult but I thought that I could have handled it. After all, I really did want Greg to be happy, even if it was without me.

The tour ended on the west coast with me doing a couple of local talk shows. I spent two weeks with the Houses and then I flew back to Ireland and to Toby. He asked me to marry him again. I moved out.

“Toby, you need to find the woman who will say yes and it’s not me. I’m sorry. I will always love you but not the way you want me to.”

He was not happy but he did give me one last bit of advice that I was grateful for...he told me that they had lost a large order for computers and it didn’t make sense to him. He was worried that the boom in technology was slowing. He suggested I reconsider where my investments were at the time. I called my broker and he kept pushing technology. I told him to switch over to blue chip stocks...non-technology. He was not happy, but when the bust came a short time later, I was very happy.

I decided it was time to move back to the United States. I loved California but I wanted to be in the mountains so I bought a ranch near Estes Park, Colorado. I spent over $1.1 million on it and took out a mortgage for half of it. With my writing I was now making a comfortable living. My agent wanted me to commit to a book for 1999, so I did. I received an advance this time in the amount of $250,000. I was happy.

The ranch was at the base of a mountain. It had meadows and stands of pine trees that covered over 170 acres. I had no clue what I was going to do with all of it but the property came with horse stalls, a ranch house, a bunk house and several corrals and fenced areas. It had once been a horse ranch where horses were raised and sold. I realized pretty quickly that I was going to have to hire someone to take care of the ranch in my absence. I hired an old cowboy and his wife, Jack and Tina, and they moved into the bunkhouse (which was more like a guesthouse than bunkhouse.)

Most of the neighbors knew me as the “Writer from California.” They were nice enough but I always got the feeling that they were checking me out. I spent a lot of time writing but in February 1999 I received a telephone call from Gianni. We spoke in Italian and he told me that Mama had died the night before of heart failure.

“I’ll be over as soon as I can get a ticket. I’m so sorry Gianni.”

I cried all the way over. I decided to step up a notch and fly business class. I was glad I did, it meant the seat next to me was empty and I was able to cry without keeping anyone awake.

The whole family was at the Villa and as soon as I arrived we began cooking to feed everyone. After the meal and clean up was over we all went to view the body at the church. The service was moving and inspiring. Mama Ferrari had touched many lives and the church was full of her admirers.

After the service we returned to the Villa, Gianni took me aside.

“Maggie, walk with me.”

I grabbed a jacket and we went outside. Gianni put his arm around me and we talked all the way to the garage about his mother.

“My mother loved you like a daughter. She always wanted me to marry you but I told her that I always had the feeling your heart was somewhere else. She said you were good for me, made me laugh and made me have to think about what I was doing. You helped me find my direction in life and my mother was always grateful for that. So she left you something.”

He opened the garage. I always loved coming to the garage because they kept at least a dozen vintage Ferrari’s and they were fun to look at and drive. He handed me a set of keys.

“It’s not the most expensive one in the garage, but she thought it fit your personality the best. It’s that one.” He pointed to a little red hardtop sportscar. “ It’s a 1958 Ferrari 250GT Berlinetta 'Tour de France'. The Coachwork was by Pinin Farina Scaglietti. It’s a pretty little thing, just like you.” The papers to the car were transferred to me. I paid the import duty and almost fainted when they told me the estimated value of the car for the purposes of duties was $790,000. I had my car shipped to New York. It arrived in May. I flew into New York to pick it up and then I drove it across country to Colorado. It was in mint condition and it purred all the way home. I was stopped by a lot of car enthusiasts on my way and on one occasion a man followed me to a diner and offered me a cool million for the car. Obviously, I didn’t accept it but I would be lying if I didn’t say I was tempted!

Gianni had made me promise to return for the Millennium in Venice. His cousin had loaned him his house on the Grand Canal and Gianni was going to throw a huge party.

I made my reservations to return to Italy, even though everyone worried about planes falling out of the sky because of Y2K problems. I called Toby, my technology wizard, and he told me it was all hype and not to worry.

When I got back I finished my next novel about a busker in London and living hand to mouth. I simply entitled it “Busker.” It also made it to the top ten but not in the top five. Still, I had a nice following and made good money.

I arrived safely in Venice and spent a glorious Millennium with Gianni who now had a girlfriend. She was gorgeous, Italian and jealous of me. Gianni thought it was funny but I was uncomfortable. So Gianni roped one of his cousins into taking me around Venice and entertaining me. His name was Alberto and he was hot...probably the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. It didn’t take asking me twice to jump in bed with him. He even had a respectable degree in engineering from Oxford. We watched the fireworks from the dock in front of the villa. The Grand Canal lit up and people cheered from every corner of Venice. It was romantic and thrilling.

I came home from Italy in once piece but not without wishing I could bring Alberto with me. He was so generous in bed that I wanted to bottle him up and bring him home. Lusting can be so much fun.

***

It was in the year 2000 that I began the book I knew would be my opus. It was a semi-autobiographical novel about my first 22 years on this earth. I felt like I was in a place in my life where I could sit down and write it and not feel like slitting my wrists. I was wrong.

The night that I sat down and wrote about meeting Greg was the night that Greg was admitted to the hospital for an infarction in his leg. As I continued to write about my childhood relationship with Greg, he continued to fight for his life. I was drinking a lot of Margaritas to get me through this novel. A few weeks later, as I struggled with depression, Greg struggled with rehabilitation.

 One night I went online and Googled Greg. I found the Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital site and clicked on staff and then Gregory House, M.D. His photo came up and I took the Tequila straight out of the bottle. He was older, more wrinkled and he looked jaded. His hair was just barely going gray but he was clean shaven and there was no mistaking those blue eyes. I clicked off of the site, I couldn’t take it. I went outside and drank myself silly. I passed out on my porch with a bottle of Tequila between my legs. Jack found me and carried me inside and put me to bed. I guess cowboys are used to people drinking themselves into oblivion because he never mentioned it.

I couldn’t deal with the pain of writing the novel. I had to put it away for awhile. I started hiking in the Rockies and spent many an hour watching bear and elk play. I was so incredibly disappointed with myself. It had been almost ten years and if I let myself think about Greg, I could still feel the pain. I had been with some wonderful men, men that any other woman would have gladly spent their life with. I realized that I was probably going to be alone for the rest of my life. Greg would have Stacy and I would be this hermit living in a log cabin in the Rocky Mountains. I laughed. It was rather ironic, the irascible, mean and prickly Greg House would be the one to find love and I would be the Diogenes of love, looking forever for that one honest man.

I spent the next three years at the ranch, just mending fences, buying horses, running some cattle and photographing wildlife. Estes Park in the winter was a treat. The Elk came down from the high mountains and parked themselves like cattle in our front yard. I spent many an hour stroking and feeding them by hand. I found it amusing. During the summer tourists would park by the dozens on the side of the road in the Rocky Mountain National Park just to take a photo of Elk from several football fields away. However, if they came during the winter they could walk right up to them and pet them.

The Houses came out to see me almost every year. They told me that Greg was now walking with a cane and that he and Stacy had experienced some problems and she had left him. I felt sorry for Greg.

In 2005 I went back to my novel in earnest. I cleared all the booze out of the house so that I wasn’t tempted to repeat my Tequila Sundown... The novel was fiction but if you had read it, you would have recognized that ninety percent of it was taken directly from my life. I changed Greg’s name to George Hendrix and our home town from San Diego to El Toro, famous for the being the home of the Marine Corp Base just south of Los Angeles. But it was a thin veil.

I finished it in early 1996 and sent it to my publisher and agent. I didn’t hear from them for weeks and thought that I had probably been too close to the subject matter and it was crap. My publisher asked me to fly back to New York to see her. I arrived in May.

Both my publisher and my agent took me to lunch. I knew I was in trouble.

“We have a problem, or maybe you have a problem.” Cathy, the publisher paused and looked at my agent, Max, “This novel is going to be a number one best seller. You are going to be sought after by every talk show, every ivory league college and the entire literary world. This book is sad, poignant and incredibly romantic. It is going to be a hit on several levels. From a critical viewpoint, it is well written, compassionate, and is a great story of a journey. From a commercial view, it is hot, sexy, romantic, tragic and yet strangely uplifting and funny. Now, here’s the problem. We all know that this is semi-autobiographical. You are the heroine, Rachel Surrey, and the romantic lead is George. Well, from the way you write him, even I fell in love with George. He’s a jerk, a bast@rd and a pig, but you have to love him. Well, millions of women are going to fall in love with George. He’s going to be the next Heathcliff or Mr. Darcy. That means that someone is going to figure out that this is based on your life and they are going to figure out who George really is. Now, I’m not worried about your portrayal, legal says that we are ok because you’ve done enough to disguise him. But if the media finds him and starts harassing him, he might not like having his privacy invaded. We don’t think he will be able to sue, but you better talk to him and let him know what he’s in for before it broadsides him.”

“You’ve got to be joking?” My jaw was down to my knees. “I haven’t seen this man in sixteen years. He doesn’t want to see me or have anything to do with me. He has a life without me in it. Please, can’t you get your secretary to do this?”

“We think you need to talk to him.”

“I get depressed just thinking about him, let alone having to actually talk to him. I can’t do it.”

“We go to press in September, I figure by November his life is going to be turned upside down.” Cathy said. “By the way, what’s his real name?”

“I’m not telling, not yet.” They admonished me several times to talk to him and soon.

I got back to the hotel and threw myself onto the bed. I had a headache. I turned on CNN.

“...Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital by a disgruntled patient. No one is sure why but we do know that he escaped and the police are asking for people to call in if they have any information on the whereabouts of Moriarty.” The screen flashed the photo of a middle aged man, dark hair, slightly balding. “We go live to the scene.”

The camera cut to a pleasant looking brunette standing outside the hospital. “All we know is that the doctor has been rushed to emergency with two gunshot wounds. One to the neck and one to the stomach. We haven’t been informed of his condition yet. I have here one of the nurses that works with Doctor House. Can you tell us why this patient wanted to kill Dr. House?”

“It would be easier to ask who didn’t want to shoot him. Dr. House isn’t exactly well liked. He’s difficult to work with and his bedside manner is non-existent. But he is brilliant and the best at what he does. He save a lot of people who would die if it were not for his skills.”

“Well, there you have it. Doctor Gregory House was shot today by a former patient. We’ll stay on the scene and keep you posted.”

By this time I was at the edge of the bed switching channels to see if anyone else had more information but CNN had the most. I started packing. I called the front desk and told them that I needed a cab to the train station. It was going to be faster going by train than by air or road.

I caught a cab from the train station to the hospital, There were lights and cameras all around. I went through to emergency and then when one of the locked doors was opened by an orderly coming through, I acted like I was part of the staff and zipped by with my luggage. I didn’t look back because that would have given me away. I kept going until I came to a bank of elevators and then I took them to the second floor. I started wandering around. I saw his office but it was very late and the office was dark. The lights were on in the adjoining office and there was a young African-American sitting and reading something. I kept going. The intensive care ward wasn’t on this level. I found a directory and it said that intensive care was on the fourth floor. I took off.

On the fourth floor I managed to get up to the glass outside of intensive care. I could see him hooked up to machines, a unit of blood attached to a drip and another I.V. which I assumed was either morphine or antibiotics. I didn’t think seeing him would cause such a violent reaction in me. I broke out in a cold sweat and I started to get dizzy. He was still handsome, even unconscious. I wanted to touch him, protect him, comfort him. I was 9 years old all over again. I started to go in and I was stopped by a nurse.

“You can’t go in there unless you are on the list. What’s your name?”

“Maggie Molloy, I am family, we grew up together. Please let me in to see him, I promise I won’t do anything funny.”

“You aren’t the first of the press to try and get in...sorry, but you aren’t on the list.”

I started to cry. “Just tell me he’s going to be alright and I’ll go.”

“Sorry but you aren’t family, I can’t do that.”

“Please, please.” But the nurse kept her lip tight.

“What’s going on?” I turned around and there was a very pretty young doctor with another older male doctor. Their coats said Drs. Cameron and Wilson respectively. I still had tears going down my cheeks.

“I just want to know if he is going to be ok. Please, I’ll leave, but just tell me.”

“We’re about ready to release a press statement that he is going to be just fine. He took two bullets but we were able to stop the bleeding and sew him up. He’s ok.”

“Thank you, thank you very much, good night.” I felt relieved. I grabbed my luggage and left.

I heard the girl ask the nurse, “Who was that?”

“Maggie something, she wasn’t on the list.”

Cameron turned to Wilson, “Do you know a Maggie?”

“She looks familiar and I’m trying to remember where that name came up. Well, it’s been too long now and I can’t remember.”

I called John and Blythe and gave them the update but they already knew, someone had already called them from the hospital.

“You’re there at the hospital?” Blythe asked.

“I’m leaving right now.”

“Did you get to see him?”

I was still upset, “Only from behind the glass, they wouldn’t let me in because I’m not family.”

“Oh, sweetie, if I had known you were going to go there I would have told them to put you on the list.”

“It’s ok, I just wanted to make sure he was ok. I’m going to fly home now. Please don’t let him know I was here. I assume you are flying out here.”

“Our plane leaves in two hours.”

“Well, I’ll let you go. Love you. Bye.”

Blythe turned to John,”That girl still loves Greg, why I don’t know. Come on, we better get going.”

***

I found out that Greg recovered, had the use of his leg for awhile and then the pain came back. I didn’t understand how that could happen and John couldn’t explain it either.

That summer the buzz about my book was great. Articles were starting to appear in places like “Harpers”, “The New York Times” and “Book” raving about it. I still didn’t think it would make a big splash and, if it did, no one was going to care if George was real or not. I always wrote in my pen name, M.M. Molloy and I thought that it might give me some protection. Especially since my middle name was not May but Sara and I didn’t let anyone but my publisher and agent know where I lived. All the offers for appearances and book signings came through my agent.

But then the book came out and it went straight to number one. People on television and call-in radio programs began to debate whether George was a real Bast@rd or had loved Rachel so much that he set her free to go have a life. Everyone agreed he was a jerk over the abortion, especially since he knew she was having a hard time agreeing to one. The debate raged everywhere with women calling in and claiming they were in love with George and would have never left him, no matter what he did. Others hated George and wanted him dead. I watched this maelstrom and worried, what if they find out Greg is George?

My Publisher wanted me to do an interview on national television. I had just about everyone clamoring for the first sit down interview and so they picked Dateline with Matt Lauer for me to start with. I sat down at the taping and we shook hands. He praised my book, talked about the fuss it was making and that the last time he saw a book create such a buzz was “The DaVinci Code.” Then he turned to question me. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Who is George?”

I almost swallowed my own tongue. “What makes you think he is real?”

“Well, he seems so real in the book. We know that the book follows your life quite closely. We know you were a military brat, you had a mother who was murdered, you father and brother died in an accident and we understand that you had neighbors who took you in after your family died. All of this happens in the book, so who is George really?”

“That’s all true but George is an amalgamation of a lot of men I’ve known.” This wasn’t really a lie. For the most part I had described Greg when I was writing about George except I had embellished the sex scenes with moves I learned from my other lovers. It made Greg look like an ideal lover, both romantic and inventive. Now this was true to a point, but I had learned a lot about lovemaking over the years and I’m sure Greg did too. We both probably picked up tricks that we didn’t have in our repertoire fifteen years ago.

Matt Lauer wasn’t buying it and I had the distinct feeling that he was going to announce Greg’s name on national television. I was sick to my stomach.

Snippets of the interview were previewed on the Today Show in the 9:00 a.m. hour. Cameron, Chase and Foreman were watching the show when Wilson walked in looking for bagels.

“He’s not here yet.” Cameron told Wilson.

“What’s this?” Wilson asked pointing to the television.

“You know the book, “My Back to the Piano?” They are going to have the author on next.

“Everyone’s reading that book, have you read it yet?” Wilson asked her.

“I just bought it.” She pulled it out of her satchel and showed it to him. Wilson looked for a photo of M.M. Molloy but there was none on the book cover.

“Is the author male or female?”

“I think female, but we’ll find out in a minute. One of the nurses read it and told me the main male character sounds like House, only nicer, sexier.”

Matt Lauer introduced me just as House walked into his office and saw everyone gathered around the television. When my face came on the television Cameron and Wilson looked at each other. She jumped up and pointed at the television and started yelling, “That’s her, that’s her.”

“Who? What are you talking about?” House asked.

“That’s the woman that came to see you right after you were shot. They wouldn’t let her in so she asked me if you were ok...”

House was behind the television and had to come around to look. All he saw was Matt Lauer asking a question, “Well, we have anecdotal evidence that says George was really your next door neighbor, Gregory House.” The camera cut to me and House pulled his head back in shock.

“Oh my God, George is you???” Cameron was looking at House. Chase, Foreman and Wilson were also starting at House.

“Who is George?” House asked rather meekly.

Cameron held up the book and said, “It’s a character in this book.” House grabbed it out of her hand.

Meanwhile, in the interview I’m smiling and trying to hide the fact that I’m scared to death. “No, it’s not Gregory House, although Greg was very kind to me as a child. This is a fictional character, nothing else.”

The phone started to ring. Cameron picked it up. “Diagnostics....Ewww...no. Don’t call back.” She looked at the phone with disgust, “That was a woman who wanted to know if you had ever stored your semen? What is that about?”

Greg was giving them all a look that said, “Don’t ask me.”

Cuddy came running into the office. “You’re George? You pig. You made her have an abortion?”

House went white and then blushed red. Both Cuddy and Cameron were staring at him with female revenge in their eyes.

“I’m going into my office and I would prefer it if anyone with ovaries stayed out of it.”

Wilson followed him in to his office. “Did she really stop by to see me?” Greg asked Wilson.

“Yes, she was crying too. Very upset that they wouldn’t let her in or give her any information. Who is she?”

House was looking out the window and trying to think. “She was Maggie May, the only woman who ever loved me for who I was.”

“What about you? Did you love her?” Wilson asked.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about her, is that love?”

“Sounds pretty close to me. Well she certainly is beautiful and obviously talented.”

House watched Cuddy and Cameron talking. Cuddy was showing Cameron passages in the book and Cameron was glaring at House.

“Damn, I need to get a copy of that book.”

The phone was ringing off the hook and within ten minutes the phone system was fried with people trying to call Gregory House for an interview, to threaten bodily harm or offer to bear his children or just be his sex slave. It was a strange day. He managed to sneak out because no one expected a doctor to be riding a motorcycle. He made his way down to the bookstore and bought the book. He took it home and started to read it.

Greg was both pleased and dismayed at the characterization of George. He liked the exaggerated sexual prowess which he knew he didn’t have back then. He thought my description of him was pretty accurate but that also meant that the whole world knew he had been very cruel to me at the end.

He wish he could write his own interlude in the book. The truth was that he didn’t know how to handle my depression over the abortion. He had regretted the abortion from day one. He knew I would have made a great mother and if he was ever going to have children, he wanted them to be with me. The baby would almost be eighteen. He sat at the piano with a whiskey and wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t forced me into the abortion. He might have been happy. He had been happy with me. Greg played the piano until midnight and then went to bed.

The next day Greg went into the hospital and found Foreman, Chase and Cameron each with a copy of the book. They were each at different stages.

“For God’s sake, isn’t anyone looking in on the patient?”

They all looked up and said in unison, “She’s stable.”

Greg shook his head and started for the clinic. As he passed the nurses and staff in the hall he kept hearing remarks aimed at him, “I’d have his babies,” “@sshole,” “He’s George?”, “Oh yeah, I’d nail him.”... Greg wasn’t sure who was going to kill him and who was going to jump his bones.

When he got to the clinic Cuddy cut him off at the pass. He gave her a look of curiosity.

“What?”

“You see the clinic?” She asked.

He looked in and the clinic had twice as many patients as usual. However, over half of the patients were women between the age of 20-55 in all forms of dress and undress.

“The women... they all want YOU to see them.”

“Well, I better get started then.” House smiled at the thought of all these women asking for him to examine them.

“No pelvics or chest exams without a nurse in the room, do you understand?”

“Yes, she who must be obeyed.”

House stepped through the doors and the women started to rush forward. He held up his cane and said, “STOP...I know how to use this...SIT DOWN and I will try to see each of you.” A few kept coming and he pointed at chairs. “SIT”

He grabbed a chart and called the first woman who shrieked with excitement when her name was called. There were sounds of disappointment in the other women. Wilson and Cuddy were both observing all of this from the side and laughing.

Greg soon found out that trying to keep a woman from disrobing because of an ingrown toe nail was harder than he thought. “I really don’t need to listen to your chest. Ohhhh, woaa... I don’t really need to see your chest either.”

The next patient came in and gave him a Snickers bar and told him that she was having chest pains. “I don’t hear anything out of the usual but I’ll send you to cardiology for an EKG.”

“Well, George, I think it’s a broken heart, broken because you don’t love me anymore.”

Greg looked at the chart, the name on it was Rachel Surrey. Greg wrote a referral. “You need to take this to the second floor in the east wing and ask for Dr. Pfeiffer, he’ll help you.” Dr. Pfeiffer was a psychiatrist.

“But all I really need is you George. Come back to me...”

He had to call security.

Everyone wanted to show him her breasts or ask him if he wanted children now because they would be willing to assist him. He did get one real patient who didn’t know who George was. But she had a cold and so she was out of the clinic within a few minutes. After two hours of being flashed every size, shape and color of breasts and receiving numerous offers of sexual favors, Greg was tired. He never knew breasts could be so exhausting. He wondered if Wilson ever thought this with all of his breast cancer cases.

When his shift was up he went out to the waiting room and announced, “I am not George, I do not want children. However, if you still want to screw me leave a name, phone number and a nude photo of yourself and I will get back to you.” and then he left.

Surprisingly, two of the women actually left him the requisite information which was sent up to his office and opened by an unsuspecting Cameron. “Ewww...”

***

I was watching the Today show two days later when they ran a piece on Greg. “He’s believed to be George Hendrix, the love interest of Rachel Surrey in the book, “My Back to the Piano.” written by Maggie Molloy. Let’s go to Sylvia Peterson in Princeton.

“Matt, we’re here at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and talking with one of the nurses, Heather Thompson. Heather, you claim that Gregory House is George Hendrix, why?”

“Greg House is a genius but he’s also a jerk. He plays piano, guitar and he has bounced around from hospital to hospital because of his abrasive personality. He is from San Diego and he’s good in bed.”

“Oh, well we didn’t expect that. Do you have that from personal observation?”

“Yes, we’ve dated, we almost got married.”

Greg House and his team were all watching this when Greg said, “Did I date her? I don’t remember having sex with her? Get Wilson, he’ll know.” House jumped up, went out to the hall and said in a loud, booming voice, “Wilson, did I screw that nurse?” he started hobbling down the hall towards Wilson.

“What nurse?”

“Heather Thompson. She claims I’m good in bed and I was going to have her put it in writing for my my space site.” Greg stuck a lollipop in his mouth and smiled. “Or maybe I am so good I don’t even have to go to bed with them and they’re satisfied. Damn I’m good.”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“I got home last night and a dozen beautiful women were waiting for me to sleep with them. The only downside was that they all wanted to call me George. I don’t mind as long as I get to call them Carmen.”

But actually, Greg was getting annoyed with all of it and especially the little old ladies and the religious right who kept berating him for making Rachel get an abortion.

The good thing about the publicity is that House was receiving more referrals and the clinic was getting in lots of paying “patients.” Cuddy had to double security but occasionally it didn’t work. Greg came into work one day and was busy talking to Wilson. He sat down and rolled the chair under the desk, “Ahhh..” He rolled the chair out, jumped up and looked under the desk. There was a 25 year old woman kneeling under his desk smiling. Wilson came around to look.

“Well, at least she’s assumed one of your favorite positions.” Wilson remarked.

As security was taking her out she kept yelling, “I’ll do anything, anything, just let me stay around you...I can’t bear being without you, George.”

“Greg...THE NAME IS GREG!!!” He shook his head.

House was a captive in his own apartment. If he went out people noticed him and stopped him. Even guys gave him crap. One evening he and Wilson were walking to a a movie when two guys walked up.

“Thanks George, now my girlfriend thinks of you when we’re having sex.”

“She told you that?”

“Yeah.”

“Would she like the real thing?”

The guy got pissed and Greg jumped back knowing he was about to swing. The swing went nowhere and Wilson grabbed House and ran.

I had been put on the circuit. I was doing literary festivals, seminars and interviews all up and down the east coast. I had driven from Colorado in my Ferrari just to give it a good run. The worse thing you can do with a finely tuned sports car is not drive it.

I was scheduled to attend the three day Literary festival at Princeton. I was scheduled to give an interview the second day of the festival and sit on a panel the third day. I pulled into Princeton early in the morning, checked into my room, got cleaned up and walked across campus to the auditorium for my first session. I discovered that it was packed and overflowing. The media was hoping for a Greg-Maggie reunion so I was followed everywhere I went. The interview was set up in the same fashion as the “Actor’s Studio.”

I took the stage and shook the hand of the professor who was interviewing me. I had on my cowboy boots, levis, a woman’s Pendleton shirt and a brown leather belt. The shirt revealed a little cleavage, but not much.

We covered my parents, the fact that I was born in Hawaii, moved to Guam, then to Norfolk, Va and then to San Diego. The questions slowed down. My mother’s abandonment was analyzed to death. We talked about my father being so oblivious to what was going on in his own garage. I stood up for my dad, he really had done his best considering the type of work he did. When we talked about my dad and brother dying, my voice cracked.

Then we talked about Greg. We talked about his physical features, “So your neighbor, Gregory House, was tall and skinny?”

“When I first met him he was certainly tall and lanky. But what has this got to do with my book?”

“I’m going to ask you a series of questions and for now please just answer yes or no.”

“I’ll try.”

“Gregory House played the guitar and piano, right?”

“Yes.”

“Gregory House has blue eyes.”

“And so do a lot of men.”

“That’s a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Gregory House left San Diego to become a doctor?”

“Yes.”

“You lived with Gregory House on Piney Woods Drive while you attended Georgetown University and Gregory House was at Johns Hopkins.”

“Yes, we were roommates, I paid him rent, but in my story George was at the University of California San Francisco and Rachel was at Berkeley.”

“Yes, but the med school and University where Rachel went were close enough that they could live together, just like you and Dr. House.”

“We could go on, but it’s fairly clear that this is an intimate book reflecting on two characters who are both flawed and tragic. Why did you choose to make it so personal?”

“I thought it was an interesting and entertaining story. Even if it did resemble my own life...I don’t think of my self as tragic.”

“Some critics say you can’t write like you do about George and not still be in love with him. Are you in love with Gregory House?”

I started to laugh. “You assume that Gregory House was the man I was in love with...”

“Are you in love with Gregory House?”

“I will always be fond of Gregory House and his parents for what they did for me.”

“You aren’t going to give me a straight answer are you?”

“Gregory House is a physician here in Princeton and he deserves his privacy. I want to emphasize that George is a compilation of many men I have known. George is not Gregory House.”

Greg thought I looked incredibly beautiful, sitting on the stage in my cowgirl getup. He realized how much he had missed me over the years. He wondered if I still had feelings for him. He was sitting in the audience in a baseball cap, sunglasses and an upturned shirt.

During the question and answer session, Dr. Cameron stood up. I recognized her right away, “In your mind, did George stop loving Rachel or did he say that he didn’t love her to push Rachel out the door and into the world?”

“I’m pretty sure he stopped loving Rachel. If there had been any hope of something more between them, she would have stayed. However, it would have taken something like what Greg...I mean George...did to,” the audience laughed at the slip up, “Now you guys have me thinking about Greg...anyways, the only way to pry Rachel from George was for him to send a strong signal that it was over and he certainly did.”

The questions went on for another half hour and most of them were from women asking about George’s characteristics. It was hard to keep straight in my mind whether I was answering questions about George or Greg.

When it was over, I sighed with relief. Several students came to the stage and I stepped forward to answer their questions. I looked up as the rest of the audience was leaving and I saw him. I saw the cane first, and then the same body frame that I knew like the back of my own hand. He was exiting the aisle where he had been sitting. I suspected the man with him was Dr. Wilson although he was wearing a hat that hid his face from me. I just stood there staring and wanting to call out to him but I figured that if he wanted to see me or talk to me he would have come up.

I spent another hour answering questions and then waited another fifteen minutes until the last camera crew and reporters left. It was 9:30 p.m. and I was hungry. I wanted to walk back to the hotel and get some food. I put on my jacket and realized it had just started pouring rain. I didn’t have an umbrella so I pulled my jacket up over my head. I stepped out and immediately got soaked.

I started to jog and I was running under a street lamp when I heard his voice. He called out,“Maggie.”

I turned but I was having trouble seeing because of the rain and glare of the street lamp. But then I made out his form and the cane.

“Greg?” I started walking towards him.

“If you want, you can call me George.” He was smiling.

We were less than six feet away from each other and I started to shiver. “If you expect me to keep you warm...then you’ll have to come closer.” He held out his arms. I walked into them and he embraced me and kissed the top of my head.

We were standing, getting soaked and I couldn’t care less.

“Let’s at least get out of the rain, ok?” he said.

We walked back to my hotel without talking. He stood in the lobby and looked around. I asked him, “I need to change, do you want to wait here or come up?”

“I’d prefer to come up. I don’t like lobbies.”

We went up to my room and I grabbed a towel for him. He had taken off his shirt and jeans and was sitting in his boxers and t-shirt. I grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom. He sat on the bed, propped up by pillows and watched television. When I came out of the bathroom I was in sweat pants and a cotton shirt. My hair was still wet. I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at him. It was so good to see him.

“You look like a drowned rat. Come here.” he patted the bed next to him.

“I’m really hungry.” I propped myself up next to him.

“This is a great movie,” The Unforgiven” Let’s get room service.”

“You haven’t seen me in 18 years and you want to watch,“The Unforgiven?”

“It’s only another hour, are you going somewhere?” he asked.

“I’m going home tomorrow night.”

“Change your reservation, or are there other reputations out there that you have to ruin?”

“No, just yours.” I said.

He grabbed the menu from the side drawer and handed it to me. “Cheeseburger, fries and diet coke.” I told him. He picked up and ordered two cheeseburgers, two fries and a bottle of champagne.

“I’m curious about your new hips and breasts, must be those cheeseburgers.”

“What? Hey, the men I know like the softer landing.”

“I guess I’ll have to try it out and get back to you.”

He turned and gave me a very sly smile.

“What are you doing? What is going on here?” I asked him, I was getting mixed messages. We were bantering like friends and flirting like lovers.

“I think we should have sex and figure it out from there.” he said casually.

We both started laughing. “Problem is that if you expect me to do what George did on page 57 then I’m going to have to have a lot more booze.”

“Well, George was much younger then.”

“Ouch.” he grimaced.

There was a knock on the door and I got up and got the food. The waiter popped his head inside the door and saw Greg propped on the pillows in his boxers. I thought it was odd, but didn’t say anything.

“I think our waiter just made a Benjamin.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sure “Star” or “The National Enquirer” made our waiter an offer he couldn’t refuse. The world will soon know that I was in your hotel room in my boxers. So I figure, if we’re going to be blamed for having sex...let’s give them something to talk about.”

“You are really pushing the envelope tonight.” I started eating my cheeseburger,

“The last...(chew) thing you said ...(chew) to me eighteen years ago was that you didn’t love me. Not exactly the way to romance a girl.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you had to be in love to have sex, I missed that Commandment.”

“Greg, I can’t sleep with you if you don’t feel anything. I can’t do it.” I waited for him to say something, to tell me he did care, but he didn’t, “Eat your cheeseburger and watch your movie.” I smiled at him but inside I was crushed.

We talked a little about his parents, my travels, his job and then I asked him about his leg. He was matter of fact about it, no emotion or bitterness. At 1:30 a.m. I told him that I needed to get some sleep and so I was going to have to kick him out. He nodded his head yes and stood up and put on his still wet clothes. I walked to the door and opened it for him. He walked up to me, looked down at me and I gave him the biggest bravest smile I could muster. He kissed me softly on my lips. I pulled away.

“Goodnight Greg.”

“Goodnight Maggie May.”

He was right about the tabloids, they had a photo of him leaving at 1:30 a.m. The headlines were, “George and Rachel Back Together Again?” No one could know how sad that headline made me.

Wilson saw House walk in and joined him on the ride up in the elevator. “Well, how did it go?”

“I didn’t nail her if that’s what you’re asking. We just talked and watched a movie. I had a chance but I couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of it.”

“Why?”

“She wouldn’t go any further unless I told her I had feelings for her.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what they are. Do I care about the nine year old, the twenty year old, the 38 year old? And is it love or guilt or lust or what. I don’t know and I can’t lie to her.”

“Wow, that’s almost noble of you. Sure you’re Gregory House or a doppleganger?” he paused. “The problem is that you don’t have very long to find out. The literary festival ends today.”

“She goes home tonight.” he said sadly.

“Then what are you doing here?” he asked.

***

House turned around and left the building. He had to find a program and figure out where I was. He crossed the campus and reached the auditorium where the literary festival brochures were located. I was on a panel at 9:30 a.m. It had started about a half hour ago. He located the room and made a beeline for it.

He walked into the room as I was discussing ‘point of view.’ He sat down in the back. After I was done answering the student’s question I sat down. I looked around the room and spotted him and smiled. My smile must have been huge because everyone turned around to look and then they started to whisper. The whole room recognized Gregory House. He stood up, gave a bow and said, “I’ve come to find out if in your story, Rachel would have been willing to stay so that George could explore the reasons he sent her packing?”

“Well, Rachel might have if she hadn’t had certain deadlines, such as the Cambridge Fellowship or perhaps a literary commitment. It would have also depended on whether George was willing to give her a sign that he wasn’t just playing her to get in her pants.”

The whole room looked back at Greg. “Well, assuming he could have played her say, last night, to get in her pants, but he didn’t, wouldn’t that be a sign?”

“I suppose, but I was thinking more like a verbal commitment. But that could be an interesting chapter in another book...if there was a sequel.”

“Are you planning on writing a sequel?”

“It depends on George.”

He smiled and then sat down. The entire room was smiling.

After the lecture, I picked up my stuff and went to the back where he was. “Lunch?” he asked.

“I think that would be a good start.” I answered.

He held my hand as we walked out. Cell phone cameras were snapping right and left. Then the media saw us and the cameras started clicking.

“Change your reservation and stay for a few more days.”

“I drove here and I have to be back to Colorado by Wednesday because we’re having a horse auction on Saturday and I have to help get ready.”

He shook his head like he had heard wrong? “Did you say horse auction?”

“Didn’t your parents tell you I own a horse ranch in Colorado?”

“We don’t usually talk about you. I thought you were living in D.C. or New York.”

“Why don’t you come back with me? Come see my world.” I asked, hoping he would come.

He gave me that sideways look of his that says, “I’m not sure about this.” He thought about it and said, “I have to ask Cuddy if I can get the time off.”

“Well, I need for you to let me know. If you come with me you can do some driving while I sleep and we can get back to Colorado sooner.”

“I’ll let you know by 2:00, ok? What’s your cell phone number?”

I gave him the number and went back to the festival for my next panel. At noon I checked out of my room.

At 1:00 p.m. I received a call. “I’ve got a week off.”

“That’s great! I think we should leave tonight, when do you get off?”

“I’m off at 4:00 and then I need to go home, get cleaned up and pack my bags.”

“Uh...I only have room for one bag...pack jeans, underwear, a sweater and jacket. I have t-shirts and shirts at the ranch. I don’t have a room at the hotel, I checked out and I’m done at Princeton, so I guess I’ll go shopping.”

“You can come by and get the key to my apartment and wait for me there.” He offered.

“Can I snoop while I’m there?” I teased.

“Only if I can snoop when I get to Colorado.”

“I’m an open book, deal.”

Around two I went to his place. I got nosey. I knew Greg would know that I wouldn’t be able to contain myself, so I figured he wouldn’t have given me the key if I didn’t have permission to snoop.

I found scrapbooks and photo albums with photos of Stacy. She was absolutely beautiful and it was at that moment that I accepted that he probably would never love me again. They looked happy in the photos and I looked at myself in the mirror, I was fair and blonde, she was dark and sophisticated. I was only 5'4" and she looked taller. In all the photos she was dressed impeccably. I was dressed like a ranch hand. I just felt inferior. I looked for any photos or things that he kept from our time together and I couldn’t find any. The only thing I found was the photo taken of House and me when I was a child when he had his hand on my head. It was buried at the bottom of a box of golf trophies. It was obviously in the, “Things that are dead to me” pile.

I resisted the urge to make his bed. His apartment was messy but not filthy. I loved seeing all the musical instruments lying around. It was good to see that he was back playing music again. I started looking through the bookshelves. Most of the books were reference books or mysteries. There were also many that surprised me, like “A Confederacy of Dunces”, “David Copperfield”, “A Study in Scarlet”, “The Sound and the Fury”, “MacBeth”... and the list goes on. I looked in the night stand and found condoms, lubricant, toenail clippers and mints. In the bottom drawer I found books, my books, “Sherpa,” “Busker,” “Mama”s Table,” and “My Back Against the Piano.” Underneath them were magazines that contained my short stories. He even had the student folio with my first published story. I sat on the edge of the bed and asked myself what did this mean?

He got home a few minutes after 4:00 p.m. “Did you find anything?”

“Yes and no. Stacy was beautiful, you looked happy with her.” I looked at him for a comment.

“Am I suppose to say something? She was beautiful and I had happy moments with her.”

“Happier than we were?”

“No. Not happier but she was what I needed at the time. I loved her.”

I shook my head, I already knew this. It hurt but I wasn’t surprised.

“I didn’t see any photos of us...did you throw them out?”

He chuckled. “You don’t know where to look. He went up to the book shelf and took out what appeared to be a large reference book on Mt. Everest, but it was actually a box and inside the box were dozens of photos of us along with memorabilia. He pulled out a second reference book on Cambridge University, it was also a box with similar contents. I smiled at him and he gave me a quick hug.

“Did you think I had exorcized you, performed a ritual and burned everything that reminded me of you?”

“Maybe. Why the disguise then?”

“Well, let’s just say Stacy wasn’t excited about having the photos around, especially towards the end. She was sure that you had made me happier than she did. I was a little concerned that she might do something to them. She was pretty angry at the end.”

“I see. Go get your shower and let’s get going.”

We unplugged some of the appliances and equipment and then locked up his apartment. He asked me, “Where’s your car?”

I pointed across the street.

“Holy Mother of God. SWEET...Can I drive?”

“If you want, now you see why you could only bring one bag?”

“Yeah, small price to pay. Where’s the keys?”

I threw him the keys. He was all smiles. “Man, what year is this?

“ 1958 Ferrari 250GT Berlinetta 'Tour de France'. The Coachwork was by Pinin Farina Scaglietti. “ I said it like a machine. I got asked so often that I said it by rote.

“How much did this puppy cost you?”

“It was a present.”

“A present?” He stopped in his tracks with his mouth open.

“My boyfriend’s mother willed it to me when she died.”

“Who was this boyfriend?”

“Gianni Ferrari.”

He was quiet. “Hard to compete with that.”

“It’s not a competition. I was close to his entire family. His mother and I really bonded, she thought I was good for Gianni, when I was around him he was happy, this car was her way of saying thanks.”

He was roaring down the expressway. “Seems you make a lot of men happy. This must be worth a fortune, what did they insure it for?”

“$1.2 million dollars.”

“WHAT?” he backed off on the gas and started treating the car like a fragile glass object.”

“Greg, it’s just a car.” I started laughing.

“At that price, it’s a work of art. You really did go out and live your life didn’t you? I saw that photo of you on the ladder at Everest. What in the hell were you thinking?”

“OH Roger and Fred wanted me to do it.”

“So you did it because two guys asked you to do it?”

“Yeah, I was young and single and up for just about anything. I wouldn’t do it again, I’ve had enough of Everest.”

“When I saw it, I went nuts. I tried to kill Tom but Wilson stopped me. Tom insinuated that you two had been together.”

“Dr. Tom? Oh, no...I didn’t go near him, I knew he just wanted to score with me to get to you. But you were jealous?”

“Nah, I just wanted to hit someone and he was convenient.”

We pulled off at midnight and got a motel room. I showered and put on a t shirt over my panties and crawled into bed. Greg was already in bed watching a little television. I rolled over with my back to him. He turned off the television and then turned out the light. Then he spooned me. His hands went up my t-shirt to my breasts and I shuddered it felt so good. He was pressed up against me and I could feel that he was aroused.

“I thought we were going to wait...see where this was going before we got physical.”

“It’s not fair to me to have you this close in a bed and not be intimate.”

“Then I’ll go get another room.” I started to get up and he grabbed my wrist.

“Don’t get another room, I won’t bother you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you comfortable.”

“I got in bed and turned to face him. I want this too, I want your hands all over me, your mouth on mine, you inside me but I’m still gun shy. I’m sorry, I want more than just sex and I want you to want more than sex too.”

“Women.”

He reached over and in the light coming through the window, he kissed me. I turned over and he spooned me but this time his hands stayed away from my breasts and he went to sleep. I realized that I felt safe for the first time in a long time.

The next morning we left Rockford, Illinois and started the last long haul to Colorado. House drove us for the first four hours and then I took over just after Des Moines. I opened her up and let her rip. We were cruising at over 100 miles per hour and House was smiling.

“You’re going to get a ticket.”

“Probably, but I’ll just pay it. You don’t have a million dollar car and not drive it like it should be driven. Gianni and I used to race in the family Ferraris through Italy and he taught me how to handle a sports car. The Italian police never stopped us. They new the Ferraris and appreciated the beautiful cars so much that they would simply stand by and watch us. Sometimes they would block traffic so we could complete one of our races. It was fun... I never won, but I had a blast.”

Greg hung on to the bar over the door and braced his leg. I got off onto a smaller interstate where there was virtually no traffic and took her up to 120 mph. I was very much in control and Greg was still holding on for dear life.

“Sweet...” He grinned.

“Do you want to drive it on this road? I’ll pay your speeding ticket.” I offered.

“I probably have some outstanding warrants for other speeding tickets, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Gregory House! You need to clear those up.”

Luckily, I never was pulled over until I got close to home. We had made our run through Boulder and had driven through Estes Park. My ranch is southwest of Estes Park and there’s a nice run of road between Estes Park and my ranch so I opened her up and within minutes there were flashing lights behind me.

Greg was shaking his head at me. “You almost made it.”

“Oh, don’t count me out so quickly.”

The patrolman came up to my window, “Maggie, 121 miles per hour? Come on girl, I warned you to get it under 100. Hey, are you having that auction this weekend?”

“Yeah Larry, are you coming? I’m going to have food and drink. Why don’t you come?”

‘I think I’ll stop by for a few minutes, now keep it under 100 or I’ll impound your car again...”

“Ok sweetie, see ya.” He left and I turned and smiled to Greg.

“Have you slept with him?” Greg was amused at his attitude.

“Not yet.” And I put the car in gear and took off. I kept it under 100 for the rest of the way. “But I did let him drive my car.”

When we got home he whistled as we drove up. The ranch house is 5,500 square feet of modern log cabin. It has an open floor plan on the first floor. There’s one guest bedroom and a full bathroom on the first floor and three more bedrooms and three full baths on the second floor. The living room has a 20 foot high ceiling and two large river-rock fireplaces. The Master Bedroom has a fireplace too. The living room is huge and the kitchen opens up to the living room area.

***

I showed Greg to the downstairs bedroom and grabbed some t-shirts and Pendletons from my room. I wore a lot of large t-shirts and men’s Pendletons around the ranch. We were both tired, I crashed on the couch and Greg went into the bedroom to sleep. I got up around 3 a.m. and went to bed. Around 8:30 a.m. I got out of bed and went downstairs. Jack was in the kitchen making coffee. He had been up since 5:30 a.m.

“How was the trip?”

“Tiring, but I brought home a guest.”

“I figured when I saw the door to the bedroom closed and the jacket on the couch.”

“Well, what do we have to do today?”

“Most of the herd is down in Witches Hallow so we need to go get them.”

“Christ, all the way to Witches Hallow? Ah, it’s going to be a long day. I better get Greg up.”

“Does he ride?”

“I don’t think he does. We’ll find out.”

I took a cup of coffee into the bedroom and I fell in love all over again. He had no shirt on and he was laying on his left side asleep. I wanted to crawl in bed with him and not get out...but I had a lot to do and so I put the coffee down and sat down on the edge of the bed. I bent over and kissed his ear and neck. “Wake up dude. Time to be a cowboy. There’s coffee here.”

He opened one eye and grimaced at me. He rubbed his face and sat up. His hair was sticking straight up on top and his beard was heavier than normal. I handed him his cup of coffee and he said in a morning voice, “What’s going on?”

“I had to wake you this early because you have to make a decision, either you can go back to sleep or spend the day with me. I’m going to be about four miles away on horseback for most of the day. So unless you come with us you won’t see me until late this afternoon. It’s your decision.”

I could see that he really wanted to go back to sleep but then he also thought about being with me. “I’ll come with you, let me get a shower.”

“Don’t bother. You’ll want to get that shower when you get back. We’re going to get really dirty and smelly today...so don’t waste your time or the water on a shower now. Just brush your teeth and get out to the kitchen. Jack’s making you some eggs and bacon.”

“Jack?”

“My sex slave and cowpoke.”

We made lunches. Jack had already saddled my horse, Jessie, and I asked him to also saddle Soldier, a much bigger horse, with a large saddle. We packed the lunch and supplies on Jessie. I took my rifle and strapped it and Greg’s cane to Soldier’s side and then I got on Soldier. I told Greg to stay on the side of the porch. I brought Soldier around so that Greg could get on him from the height of the porch. He was able to easily throw his left leg over and get up. We shared the saddle and I told him to hang on to me. He had on Levis, a t-shirt, Pendleton, a jacket and his motorcycle boots. We gave him a cowboy hat and he said, “You’re joking?”

“It will keep your head warm and the weather and dust out of your eyes.”

We took off around 10:30 a.m., a very late start for Jack. But he was a very patient man and just accepted that we would be out later than usual. We let the horses set their own pace until we got to Witches Hallow about noon. The woods were beautiful, the leaves were gone off the oak but the pine trees were thick with needles. We saw deer and Elk and some smaller critters. I would point them out to Greg who was enjoying the trip.

“You’re going to feel the saddle tonight. Do you have some pain relievers for your leg if it starts to ache.”

“I no longer take pain killers on a daily basis, but I will probably need one tonight. I have some Naprosyn with me.”

“You better take some because I can guarantee you’ll ache.” I handed him a water bottle and he took two blue Naprosyn out of his pocket and popped them.

When Greg talked to me I could feel his warm breath around my ear and it tickled. We saw the horses ahead and Jack signaled to me that he was going to go around to the left. I went right. They were in an open field just west of Witches Hallow. I was grateful that they were in the open, it would be easier for us.

“We’re going to gallop so hang on tight to me, ok?”

“I can do that.”

I saw Jack break into a gallop. I grabbed the rope off the horn and started galloping. Soldier was a big lug of a horse, but he was also fast and strong. We were at full speed in a matter of seconds and I could feel Greg grab tighter and tighter. He hadn’t expected us to be at break neck speeds. I saw a filly and got the rope ready. The filly broke from the herd and started to run. I was after her and was catching up. I threw the lasso but missed. I pulled it in and kicked Soldier to go faster. Every once in awhile I could feel Greg adjust himself in the saddle to get his balance. He was holding me very tight. I twirled the lasso and threw it again. This time I got her and I quickly wrapped the rope around the horn of the saddle. Jack came over, took the rope and brought the filly over to the two horses he had already roped and tied it to the others. We continued until 1:00 p.m. to rope horses. AT 1:00 p.m. Jack helped Greg off the horse and then he unstrapped his cane. We all sat down and had lunch.

“I think it would be best if you sit on this blanket for the rest of the afternoon while we get the rest of the horses. Otherwise, you’re going to be aching for a very long time.”

“My butt already feels like I’ve been in prison.”

He watched as Jack and I worked as a well oiled machine, roping the horses and then tying them together. By the end of the day, we had all the horses tied one behind the other. We had two strings. Jack and I brought Jessie over to a large boulder and Greg got on her from the height of the boulder. He rode Jessie home while Jack and I had the two strings of horses following behind.

Later that evening Greg was not only hobbling but he was walking slightly bowlegged. Jack couldn’t help but snicker. I smiled a lot but made no comments. We heated some frozen chilli and crumbled crackers in it. We also had a side salad along with some wine.

Jack and I talked all through the dinner about the horses and the upcoming auction. We held an auction about every two years to thin out the herd. Jack was known for raising good horses so we always attracted a good crowd.

That night Greg slept like a baby. I did too.

The next day we spent it grooming the horses. We brought in the local Farrier and he shooed the horses and groomed their hooves. Greg helped comb and brush the horses with us. We had a great time talking about the difference in the way our lives had unfolded.

That night I cooked steak, potatoes, green beans, gravy and biscuits for dinner. Jack usually ate at the ranch house two or three times a week. He joined us for dinner. He and Greg actually hit it off. Jack doesn’t suffer fools lightly so the two of them appreciated each other. Jack asked a lot of questions about Greg’s work and it gave Greg a chance to show Jack that he could be useful at something.

Jack went back to the bunkhouse to watch television. I cleaned up and Greg watched me like he used to watch me. “You’re still gorgeous Maggie. In fact, I think you’re even more beautiful. You filled out in just the right places and your face has a kindness you don’t see in most people.”

“Gregory House, how romantic. Thank you.” The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello Maggie. How are you sweetie?”

“Blythe! I’m fine. I’m here with Greg.”

“Greg?” It was John.

“Yes, he’s spending a few days on the ranch with me. He spent the first day rounding up horses. But after being on one all day I think he’s had his fill of horses. Do you want to speak to him?” Greg was waving his hands “no.” But I glared at him.

“Mom? Dad? How are you?”

“Good honey, how are you?”

“Fine.”

“What are you doing with Maggie in Colorado?” His Dad asked point blank.

“Just catching up.”

The conversation dragged on for a few minutes and then Blythe and I were left alone on the phone.

“Maggie, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“No, but at least this time around I know that I don’t know.”

“I understand. Be careful, you’ve given up a lot of opportunities for happiness and a family because of your feelings.”

“I know. Love you. Bye.”

“My mother is harbinger of doom and gloom when it comes to us, isn’t she?”

“She thinks I’ve said no to a lot of great guys because of you.”

“Did you?”

“I’ve said no to a lot of guys, but I don’t know to what extent it had to do with you. I do know that there were two guys your mother really wanted me to marry.”

“My mother? That traitor. So I guess everyone blames me for you not finding happiness.”

“Not finding happiness? Aren’t you egocentric? What makes you think I can’t be happy without a man?”

“Because I know you. You love taking care of a man, you like being needed.”

“Oh give me a break. I’m not some sycophant who needs a man to dote on. I’ll have you know that most of the men I was with took care of me. They doted on me, showered me with gifts and affection. You’re the only one that has been cruel to me.”

“Oh great, we’re never going to get over that are we?”

“Maybe not. Maybe we are destined to keep rehashing that pain over and over. I just know that I don’t want to keep reliving that pain. I can’t do that Greg. If we can get past this, it’s ok. I’m older now and I know that I can make it without a man in my life.”

“You have a man in your life Maggie, the perfect man, Jack. He’s here when you need him, you have his company whenever you need it and he’s in love with you.”

“Oh give me a break. Jack has a girlfriend, he doesn’t love me.”

“He loves you...”

“What about you Greg? Do you love me?”

He swallowed his words and went quiet.

“Well, I guess there’s my answer.”

I went upstairs and into my bedroom. I started a fire in the fireplace and took my shower. I came out to put on my pajamas and he was standing in the middle of the room leaning on his cane.

He grabbed me and his cane fell to the floor. I tried to wrestle my arm from his hand but he kept firm. He pulled off my towel and then pulled me forward to him. He kissed me but I wouldn’t kiss him back. He looked down at me and I was emotionless. He kissed me again and held me as close as he could.

“I want you Maggie May. I want you body and soul.” He kissed me again. Then again. He kissed me until I finally kissed him back. He grabbed my arm and climbed onto the bed and pulled me with him. He took off his clothes quickly and then motioned for me to get under the covers. I did and he joined me. He kept kissing me only this time his kisses started at my lips and went down. He was gentle and when I climaxed he lifted himself up and onto me and entered quickly. He was slow and rhythmic and he looked in my eyes the whole time. When he came I held him tightly, not wanting him to pull out. He realized I wasn’t going to let him move and so he fell asleep half on me and half off. I was warm and safe.

When we woke up he made love to me again, only this time it was fast and passionate. When we laid in each other’s arms he kissed my head and then turned his body to face me. “Maggie, come back to Princeton and live with me again.”

“Greg, there’s so much to think about. I have a life here. Why don’t you come here, you could open your own practice.”

“The type of medicine I practice has to be done in a large metropolitan area. I don’t have the type of practice that works in rural Colorado.”

“ What if I come and stay with you for large chunks of time and then you come here?”

“If that’s the only way it’s going to work then ok.” He said.

“I don’t see it any other way, do you?”

“Let’s give it a try and then we can work out the kinks.” He said.

“Ok.”

***

The auction was a success and most of my neighbors had turned out for it. I had been accepted over the last few years but I was always the writer from California. But now that I had a best seller, they started calling me “the local writer.” We sold a lot of horses to a group of Navajo Indians that had come up from the Four Corners area. The neighbors all got to meet Greg and many asked me if he was, “George.” I just started acknowledging it. Some of them were upset about the abortion but most of them were just excited to meet “George.”

Greg flew back to Princeton. I told him that he either had to get a bigger apartment or I would go in with him to buy a house. If I was going to live there I needed to bring some of my own belongings and set up an office where I could write. He agreed to look around but suggested strongly that I come out and help him. Greg was a lazy sod sometimes.

The brouhaha over the book and Greg was starting to wane. My agent warned me that he was in negotiations over the filming rights and that once they started casting the parts, it would probably get crazy again. I told Greg and he spent half the telephone conversation trying to decide who should play him. “I think of myself as Clint Eastwood, but he’s too old. What about Eric Bana? He’d good and he’s tall and thin but aren’t his eyes brown?” This went on for awhile until I cut it off and said goodnight.

I flew out to Princeton for Thanksgiving. The day after I arrived I was scheduled to meet Greg at his office for lunch and then we were going to go from there to look at some houses. I arrived at noon and met his team again.

“What are you doing here Maggie?” Cameron asked.

“Greg and I are going to go look for an apartment or a house. We haven’t decided.”

She looked absolutely stunned. She looked at Greg as if to ask if he would verify what I said.

“We need to get going.” Greg grabbed his jacket.

When we got outside I asked Greg, “Why was Allison so shocked?”

“Uh...I haven’t told them about us getting back together.”

“It’s more than that. Does Allison have a thing for you?”

“Mmmm...maybe. Probably.” I continued to give him a look, “Ok, she once asked me out on a date.”

“Oh Greg. You are pathetic.”

“I can’t help it if I’m hot. Women fall for me all the time. It’s the broody, damaged goods persona.”

“Then that makes me pathetic.”

“Oh honey, we already knew that.” he patted my hand.

We ended up buying a house with four bedrooms, 2 ½ baths, a full basement on 1 acre of yard and woods. It had a new kitchen / dining / family room area with huge picture windows, French doors and skylights. The kitchen had top of the line appliances including a Wolf 5 burner range, oven and microwave, warming drawer, baker's station, Miele DW and a Sub Zero refrigerator. It also had Italian ceramic tile flooring and granite counters.

It definitely did not match Greg’s personality. It was very suburban but it had a master bedroom on the first floor with an ensuite bathroom for Greg’s easy access and an office where I could write. It was located in a beautiful area with lots of woods and only six miles from the hospital and very close to Princeton Shopping Center. I know that Greg was not excited about moving to it. But it had everything we needed and it was only $600,000, a bargain compared to someplace like San Diego or Estes Park.

The piano looked gorgeous next to all the built in bookcases in the living room. We bought a flat screen television for over the fireplace and gave away Greg’s old one. I rented a small moving truck and Jack and I drove it out to New Jersey from Colorado. Jack thought the new house was nice, but was anxious to get back to the mountains where he belonged.

We...I should say...I... gave a house warming party on December 21^st and invited my friends from New York, Washington D.C., Princeton Faculty and of course all of the people who worked with Greg. The first to show was Wilson. Greg was in playing piano while I made sure the food was ready.

Wilson walked into the house after I yelled over the piano for him to come on in. He brought a bottle of wine to the kitchen, gave me a kiss on the cheek, “The tree and decorations are nice. That’s a big tree.” Then he nodded that he was going to go in and join Greg.

Greg was in between songs and he watched as Wilson looked around the living room.

“Where’s the mini-van?” Wilson teased. “Aren’t you suppose to be slaving over a barbeque in the back with a silly apron on?”

“Funny.”

“I hadn’t expected this. It’s actually a beautiful home but not exactly where I imagined you would be living.”

“It’s just a house.”

The doorbell rang and several of my friends showed up. Around 6:30 p.m. Chase, Cameron and Foreman showed up together. House had gotten up to get a whisky. They looked around and Cameron said to Greg in a voice dripping with surprise, “This is a beautiful home.”

“Why the shock?”

“I don’t see you in the suburbs.”

“Surprisingly, they actually let me drink Whisky, play the piano and fornicate out here in the burbs...as a bonus I get to run naked in my own woods.”

Chase, Foreman and Wilson all laughed but Cameron just shook her head.

“Have you thought about tying the knot?” Wilson asked.

“I think about tying a knot around her neck at least once a day. OH, I get it...are we going to get married?” He yelled at me, “Maggie May...they want to know if we are getting married. Have you asked me yet?”

I blushed bright red, “No dear, I haven’t asked you yet, I’m still waiting for your AIDS test to come back.”

“Well, that settles it. Once she gets those test results I’m toast.”

Cuddy and two other doctors showed up along with Greg’s accountant. My friends outnumbered Greg’s 5 to 1. Greg played piano and some of my tipsy friends from D.C., including Krista, sang the songs he was playing. It was actually a lot of fun. Even Wilson started to sing, I think he took a liking to Krista.

The evening was a success and we ended up with quite a cache of wine and liquor after everyone went home. Krista and another friend were passed out upstairs in the guest rooms. Greg came up behind me while I was rinsing some of the glasses at the sink. He started kissing my neck. His hand rubbed my thigh and then traveled up under my skirt until he reached my panties. I leaned back into him and he continued until I was a puddle in his hands.

“You’re so easy.” he kissed me neck again.

I had a hard time composing myself. “Would you like me to reciprocate?”

He put his arms around me and kissed me. I unzipped his pants and undid his belt. Before I could do anything else, he had me pinned down on the dining room table and we were having sex when Krista walked through the kitchen, still drunk, and got a drink of water and some naprosyn sitting out on the counter. Greg had just started to climax and he was holding his breath so he wouldn’t yell out. She hadn’t noticed us. She turned and went back out. Greg let out his breath and yelled, “F@#k, Oh ...aghh.” When it was over, we laughed so hard we started crying.

The next morning I approached Krista and asked her if she remembered getting up to get some Naprosyn and she thought hard but shrugged her shoulders. “When I drink I sometimes walk in my sleep and do odd things.” I smiled and nodded at her and secretly laughed to myself.

I had started my next novel about a ranch hand. I had to be careful not to make it seem too much like Jack because he would not appreciate the same invasion of privacy that Greg went through. In the meantime, the film rights to “Busker” had been bought for $1.3 million plus a percentage of the gross. Apparently, my agent was still negotiating “My Back to the Piano.”

Greg’s parents came out for the holidays. They arrived on December 23^rd and we picked them up at the Trenton Airport. They were happy to see us and I could tell they felt a little awkward over us being a couple. But we looked truly happy and they seemed to relax when they saw how much we enjoyed each other.

We were cooking dinner and I asked Greg to help set the table. Blythe looked over and told us, “That’s a nice dinner table.”

Greg and I looked at each other and started to giggle... Greg started to make one of his comments and I gave him the ‘zip it’ sign. He bit his tongue and Blythe looked at us like we were nuts.

For Christmas, I bought Greg a Ferrari of his own. His mother wasn’t happy with me, but I figured he was 47...he was a big boy now. Greg bought me ruby and diamond earrings to match the ring he had given me years ago. He also bought me a Mandolin. We gave the Houses a trip on a cruise ship to Alaska. I knew that they had wanted to go, so they were pleased with the tickets.

Krista, Chase and Wilson joined us for dinner. Chase was very funny. He told us clinic stories and had us in stitches. Wilson told us some funny stories about Greg and I discussed my job as a cook to the rich and famous Everest mountain climbers. The day went well and everyone seemed to enjoy the dinner.

Blythe thought that Greg was looking great. He smiled a little more and seemed more relaxed that she had seen in a long time. She had to admit that whenever Greg was living with me, he seemed happier.

“Maggie, are you happy?”

“Yes, Blythe I am happy. But I’ve learned that with Greg, you have to grab the happiness while you can. Happiness tends to implode around him.”

“You’ve loved him for a long time.”

“Yes, 28 years...I loved him from the first day he demanded to know my name...Maggie or Margaret?”

Blythe chuckled. “Well Maggie, you’re good for him but I don’t know how good he is for you.”

“This sounds crazy, but he has always made me feel safe.”

“Safe? Greg makes you fee safe?” she seemed not to understand that.

“I don’t have a clue why...I think because he tells me the truth, usually.”

“Well, he is blunt.” Blythe admitted.

The Houses left two days later and Greg was relieved. “I think they have accepted the fact that we are together but they feel kind of like it’s incest.”

***

I had to fly back to Colorado for a few weeks to take care of the horses while Jack went on a vacation to Texas to see his family. I was enjoying the time by myself but I was also missing Greg. He called me every day and gave me an update on the New Jersey weather. I had to laugh because he announced it just like the weatherman on the local news who had a light lisp and a distinct cadence. I informed him that I was not impressed with his four inches of snow when we had just received two feet.

“I miss you.” He said.

“I miss you too. I love you honey.” I was really missing him.

“I love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I stayed an extra week after Jack got back just to catch up on the books and to do my taxes. Jack was glad to see me stay and we had a great time talking about Christmas and his folks. I realized that Greg might be right, Jack might have a crush on me. But he never said anything or took any inappropriate steps. And Jack seemed happy enough with his girlfriend.

When I got back to Princeton, Greg was waiting for me at the airport. He hugged me and said, “I don’t like it when you’re gone. It gets boring. I get hungry. The house gets messy.”

We were in bed and he was holding me tightly. “Greg, you remember the table sex?”

“Yes, do you want to adjourn to the dining room my little minx?”

“No, but the table sex is going to make a good story later when we tell our son or daughter how he or she was conceived.”

He was quiet.

“You aren’t going to be able to convince me this time to have an abortion, so the ball is in your court.” I said.

“You stopped using the diaphragm?” He asked.

“No, I just didn’t expect table sex. However,I figure this was the best Christmas present you could have given me. So, are we going to raise the baby together?”

“Do you really think I could trust you to raise a House alone?”

“I want you to tell me how you really feel?”

“I come with a lot of baggage, but then you already know that and I’m pretty set in my ways. But I missed out when we were young, I don’t want to miss out this time. I don’t want my child growing up without me. I just wonder if I can give it the love a child should have.”

“I think you will come through.”

“Now where are we going to raise this prodigy?” He asked.

“In your office...I would assume we will raise the child here and in Colorado...”

‘I vote for Colorado.”

“Cute.”

“Ok, what are we going to call this invention? Housemoy? Molouse?”Houlloy?

“Greg, let’s get married.”

“Why?”

“Are you joking or serious?” I asked.

“A little of both.”

“Don’t you want the baby to have a normal family?”

“Maggie, no matter what we do, this is not going to be a normal family.”

“You know what I mean...”

“Can I first digest the fact that I’ve been exiled to the suburbs, I’m living with my pseudo little sister and I’m procreating before I take on marriage?”

“You’ve got an hour.”

“What?”

“I’m joking...if you don’t want to get married, it’s fine.”

He looked at me sideways...”I don’t like this. It’s fine if I don’t marry you?”

“Hey, if I really want a husband I know where to find one or two...” I smiled like a lunatic at him.

“Myspace?” He laughed.

I rolled over and tried to go to sleep.

“Having my baby...what a lovely way of saying how much you love me...having my baby. ..”

“Oh for God’s sake, will you please shut up. I need some sleep...” I pretended to hit him.

“I want to name him Perciville.”

“No.”

“Ebekenezer?”

“No.”

“Greg..let me sleep.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I know, I missed you too. Now, go to sleep and when we wake up you can harass me, ok?”

“Goodnight Maggie May, I’m glad you’re home.”

“Goodnight Honey.”

Greg insisted I go in and get an exam by the best obstetrician in the hospital. We were waiting in the waiting room when Cuddy was walking by at a fast clip. She stopped in her tracks like she had just hit a brick wall and walked back to us. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. A couple in the waiting room of an obstetrician says a lot.

“You two are pregnant?”

“Yes, but we don’t know which one. If it’s me then I’m going straight out and buying maternity clothes and a case of Ben & Jerry’s.” Greg patted his stomach.

“I took a pregnancy test in Colorado and it was positive.” I told her.

“That’s great!” Then she looked at Greg, “No abortions this time.”

“It depends, if the sonogram looks like you, we’re aborting.” Greg said.

She gave him a mean look and then turned to me. “If you need anything let me know and congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I said as she walked away.

“I give it ten minutes.”

“What?”

“In ten minutes Cameron, Chase, Foreman and Wilson will all know. Cuddy has this problem with keeping secrets about me. Me being a father is going to give her a lot of fodder.”

“Oh well, it had to come out anyway.”

When we got done with the obstetrician the pregnancy was confirmed. The baby was due on September 13^th. Greg asked a lot of questions about me being an older prima gravida...I felt really decrepit. Apparently because I was going to be 39 when I had my first child, it required much more monitoring for birth defects.

My obstetrician seemed to actually like Greg, “Don’t worry House, I’ll make sure she gets all the right tests.”

We went down to his office and they were all there, including Cuddy. “Congratulations!” The all yelled in unison. Greg rolled his eyes. Wilson patted Greg on the back and Greg gave him a look that said ‘you don’t want to do that.”

“Thank you everyone.” I said with real happiness in my voice.

“When are you due?”

“September 13^th.”

Wallets came out and money was exchanged between the men. Apparently Wilson won the pot.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“It meant that the date of conception was the night of your party. I thought it would have been at Thanksgiving and Foreman thought it was Christmas.” Chase grinned.

“Now you all know, we copulate after every party...we’re giving a party tonight just so I can get some. Bring pretzels and condoms.” Greg walked to his desk.

“I’ll take off now.” I walked over and gave Greg a kiss on the cheek. He turned and smiled at me and gave me a peck on the cheek. I left and went home so that I could start planning the wedding. Greg House was getting married, he just didn’t know it.

***

I called Krista and asked her to be my maid of honor. “How did he ask you to marry him?”

“He didn’t, but he will. I’m planning a June wedding in Colorado. I think a wedding on the ranch would be beautiful and you haven’t been there, so it will be a great excuse for you to come. We need to go look for dresses!”

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“No, it’s only money. I figure if he says no...I just pay the deposits..don’t worry, he’ll say yes. He’s going to be 48 when the baby is born, not like he can moan about not having a chance to live his life.”

When Greg got home I sat him down. “It’s 3:00 p.m. in San Diego. Your parents will both be home, let’s call and tell them the news about the baby.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“My Dad is still a little upset over us hooking up. He really does think of you as a daughter and it’s like...well, he just feels funny about his son and daughter getting together...”

“We can’t hide this and it’s better he starts dealing with it now. I want you to be on the phone with me when I call.” He gave me a look like he didn’t want to do it, “Greg, come on...”

I picked up the phone and dialed. Blythe answered.

“Hello?”

“Blythe, it’s Maggie and Greg. Greg go get on the other phone.” Greg got up and went into the bedroom to get on the other receiver. “Blythe is John there?”

“Yes, do you want me to get him?” She asked.

“Yes, please.” John was on the other phone within seconds.

“We have news for you.” I said.

“You two are getting married.” Blythe interrupted.

“No, not yet. Greg, why don’t you tell them.”

“You’re doing a great job as it is.” He said.

“GREG.” I growled into the receiver.

“Yes, dear. Mom, Dad, Maggie is pregnant.”

There was dead silence.

I finally said, “Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yes...yes...we’re here. “ Blythe stammered.

“Are you sure?” John asked.

“September 13^th is the due date.” Greg told them.

It was his Dad who recovered first. “Congratulations, I know you’ll make a good mother Maggie. And Greg, I hope you don’t make the mistakes that I made with you. We love you both and want you to be happy. Now when are you getting married?”

“We want to digest all of this before we make any other commitments. But we’ll let you know if we decide to get married.” Greg was calm.

“Congratulations sweetie. I’m going to be a grandmother. I never thought I would.” It was Blythe and she sounded happy.

I didn’t have the type of morning sickness that caused vomiting, I just didn’t have an appetite for the first two months. Greg was working long hours at the hospital on several rather exciting cases. He was on a high when he did get home. I worked on my novel and went for walks around the neighborhood. But I was missing Colorado and the ranch. I told Greg that I wanted to get back to the ranch soon.

“You were just there two months ago. Your first trimester will be up in a few weeks, at least wait until then. The second trimester is the easiest, less nausea, less likely to spontaneously abort and you’re going to start putting on weight. You’re still too thin.”

“Ok, I’ll go at the beginning of April, but I’m going to stay a month. I need to make sure everything is taken care of while I’m pregnant.” I didn’t tell him that I wanted to get back to make the arrangements for our wedding.

I booked ten suites in the Stanley Hotel for friends and family. The Stanley is a gorgeous hotel that overlooks the Rocky Mountains. In fact, Steven King based the “Overlook Hotel” in the book “The Shining” on the Stanley Hotel. I booked it for the weekend of June 16^th. I called the Houses and told them that I wanted them to come out to Colorado June 10^th for Greg’s birthday and stay for a week. They said yes right away. Blythe jumped at any chance to be with Greg. I bought their plane tickets.

Greg was laying down reading a medical journal when I came in and sat down on the edge of the couch. He put down the journal on his chest and looked at me. “Yes?”

“I am flying your parents out to Colorado for your birthday and I want you to ask Cuddy for the time off so you can be there. Tell her you need June 8^th through June 18^th off.”

“You know that I don’t like Birthday celebrations.”

“This means a lot to me. I want your parents to have time with us while I’m pregnant. Please?”

He really didn’t want to say yes, but he could tell that I was sincere in my desire for him to come to Colorado. “Ok, but the next time I take vacation I would like for us to actually take one.”

“Deal.”

I talked to Wilson. “Jim, I want you to be the Best Man.”

“Best Man? Are you and House getting married?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know it yet. I’m planning the wedding for June 16^th in Colorado. I’ll pay your way out and make arrangements for your clothes. I know that Greg would want the Best Man to be you.”

“Maggie, do you really think Greg will go through with this?”

“What’s the worst that he can do? Humiliate his pregnant girlfriend in front of friends and family? I’ve been through worst. If he doesn’t go through with it then we just have a big birthday party for him. He’ll be too afraid that all of it will end up in a novel.” I smiled at Wilson. “Jim, it’s ok. I know I’m taking a chance, but I’m tired of waiting for Greg House. This is a make or break deal. He either goes through with it or I stay in Colorado, permanently.”

“Those are high stakes.”

“Yes, but I can’t be spending the rest of my life pining over him. I want to know when the baby is born that we are his family, legally.”

Krista and I went shopping for her dress but I ended up finding mine. It was am Antibes silver-white satin strapless gown with a rouched neckline and an empire waist that has a sash. There was beading and embroidery at the empire line. The empire waist would give me ample room for expansion.

We bought Krista a cocktail dress with a boat collar, three-quarter length sleeves in a coral silk. It was gorgeous on her. We were pleased with our purchases and spent the rest of the day finding the best shoes to go with the dresses. I bought satin ballet-styled slippers so that I would be comfortable.

I asked the Houses for the addresses of friends and family. I told them that I needed them for when I sent out the baby announcements. I received the list of approximately 89 people. I knew that many of them would not be able to make it to Colorado but maybe some would show. I knew that I had to get a commitment from Greg in May to marry me before I sent out the invitations. Once the invitations went out it would be too difficult to keep Greg from finding out.

In April I flew out to Colorado and arranged for music, a tent, tables, food, the preacher and all the other things that go with a wedding. We were going to be married outside, if the weather held, at the base of the mountain. A large, heated tent, was going to be set up and we would have ten tables for a total of 100 people. The band would be in the tent but we would open the house and there would be music inside the house as well.

Things were going great except that I forgot about George and Rachel. I don’t know who tipped the media off, but one of the pieces on Entertainment Tonight was the upcoming wedding of Maggie Molloy and Dr. Gregory House in Estes Park, Colorado. I received a call from the Houses.

“Are the tabloids right?” Blythe could barely contain her excitement.

“I think they are mistaking the birthday party preparations for a wedding.”

Around April 24^th Greg called me in the middle of the day. “Maggie, I need for you to come home as soon as you can.”

“What’s wrong Greg?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone, you need to fly out as soon as you can.”

“Can’t you tell me over the phone, I’m suppose to stay another week, can’t this wait?”

“No.” The phone went dead.

I arranged for a flight the following day and when I got to the airport he wasn’t there. He did arrange for a driver to pick me up and take me home. I got home and looked around and there it was. The idiots were suppose to have delivered my wedding gown to Krista’s house in Washington. The box was in the middle of the bed and the gown was partially pulled out.

I was sweating bullets and my hear rate went through the roof. I was trying to calm myself down because I didn’t want to stress the baby. A few hours later I heard him pull up. He got out and came in with his back pack. He put it down and took one look at me on the couch and shook his head as if he were disappointed.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on? The tabloids are stalking me and then that dress gets delivered a few days ago. I have to think that we aren’t communicating.”

“You’re getting married on June 16^th in Colorado.”

He didn’t bat an eye or even feign surprise. “Do I have any say in this?”

“Yes, you can say no if you want. I will accept it if you do. But I’ll be staying in Colorado if we aren’t married.”

“So, you’re blackmailing me...no marriage, no Maggie.”

“No, you are welcomed to come to Colorado and visit me and the baby anytime, for as long as you want. But if I’m going to live in New Jersey with you then I want to be married.”

“You’ve taken the decision out of my hands, haven’t you?”

“No Greg, if you are really ready to commit then marriage won’t scare you. You’re 47 years old for God’s sake, it’s not like you have to go out and sew your wild oats.”

“How were you going to pull this off?” He sat down on the easy chair opposite the couch.

“I wasn’t sure, I just knew I would do my best.”

“You know how to use a shotgun...had you thought about a shotgun wedding?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know if I should shoot you or put myself out of my misery.”

He gave me a weak smile. He leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling.

“Can I get you something? I didn’t make anything for dinner so we’ll have to go out or get take-out.”

“I think I need a whisky...and I already ordered Chinese before I left the hospital.”

I got up and poured him one and handed it to him. He looked directly into my eyes before taking it out of my hands.

“Maggie May, you certainly know what you want don’t you?”

“I know I want you Greg House, but I’m tired of waiting. I’ ve waited 28 years for you...I think that’s long enough, don’t you?”

The doorbell rang, I grabbed my purse to go pay for the meal. I gave the guy a tip and he smiled broadly at me. I took the food into the kitchen and Greg followed. He sat down at stool next to the breakfast bar. I could see he had ordered the shrimp and the crispy beef dishes. I was about ready to cry, I just knew this conversation wasn’t going my way. He seemed to be deeply disappointed and disturbed by what I had done. I put a spoonful of the shrimp on his plate and saw metal covered in sauce. I reached over and pulled it out and gave a little scream, “Ahhh..OH my God.” It was a beautiful diamond engagement ring. I started shrieking and Greg covered his ears.

“Maggie, Maggie, calm down.”

I was jumping up and down like I had just been called to be a contestant on the “Price is Right.” I went over to him and continued to jump like a Kangaroo.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God...”

“Maggie, MAGGIE MAY....”

I stopped jumping and I ran over to the sink to wash the sauce off. “Greg it is so beautiful.” I handed it to him, “You put it on me...”

“How do you know it wasn’t the delivery boy who wants to marry you. I saw the way he looked at you.”

“Because I didn’t give him that big a tip.”

Greg took the ring in his fingers and placed it on my left hand and said, “Maggie May will you marry me?”

I was almost flip but then I realized how serious he had become, “Yes Gregory House, I will.”

We hugged and kissed each other.

The day of the wedding there was some drizzle in the morning but it stopped around noon. The wedding was scheduled for 2:00 p.m. House was knocking back single malt whiskeys with Wilson in the guest room where they were getting dressed. I was trying to stuff my blossoming breasts into the top of my dress and Krista was wrestling with allergies.

We had 110 people RSVP and I had to break down and hire security because of the press. I had come to a compromise with them. They could have ten minutes to take photos after the ceremony but then they had to leave. Our sheriff was just itching to throw some of them in jail for trespassing.

John House was going to walk me down the aisle. They didn’t know what side to sit on and so they chose the Groom’s side just so their family would know where to sit. I told them that it didn’t matter to me.

The sun came out and the mountain and meadows were blooming with wildflowers. It was so romantic. The very large pond in front of the ranch house reflected the mountain and the trees. The marriage bower was just far enough back from the pond to keep the insects at bay. Greg and Wilson took their place and they both looked handsome and just slightly tipsy. I didn’t think anyone else would recognize that little grin that Greg gets when he’s been drinking, but I sure did.

The wedding went well, Greg even said a few words. They weren’t exactly what I had planned when I thought of my wedding, but they were very Gregish:

Maggie May, ..All I needed was a friend to lend a guiding hand,

But you turned into a lover and

Mother what a lover, you wore me out,

All you did was wreck my bed,

And in the morning kick me in the head,

Oh Maggie I couldn’t have tried anymore,

You lured me away from home, cause you didn’t want to be alone,

You stole my heart I couldn’t leave you if I tried...

Everyone looked at each other mystified, but I just grabbed him and kissed him. The preacher chastised me, “Tsk, tsk, no kissing yet.”

After the ceremony we drank (I had milk and one glass of champagne) and ate and danced (even Greg did a little dancing) into the night. I was very happy and Greg, well Greg was very drunk.

THE END.