Chapter Five: A Rainy Springtime
"Ok look Morrow. Here's a map of the length of the Channel and the currents at the times of the day. Morrow?"
Jerome couldn't even focus. All he could think of was her; Portia Robinson, and the dinner they had last night after ditching the Buckingham Palace Ball. He was shivering while sitting on the diving board, one leg dangling over the side. He wistfully moved his toe around and around in the water. Why. . .I think I am in love! he thought to himself.
"MORROW!!" McHallan screamed.
"What? Huh?" He was so shocked and startled that he stood up on the diving board, surprisingly not falling in the water.
"What is your bloody problem? Now concentrate. Look here, the current goes. . ." He stopped when Portia Robinson walked in and sat down on the bleachers by the large window that Jerome frequently looked out of.
Jerome's heart skipped a beat and he smiled and discreetly waved.
McHallan hissed, "Morrow, that's Portia Robinson, the American INVALID."
"I know," he was still grinning at her with his perfect smile and his eyes sparkling like a sapphire.
Coach McHallan was surprised and somewhat angry. "You've met her?"
"Uh-huh," he nodded happily.
He stood up and gathered his things. "Okay then, you can go. Obviously you're not paying any attention and you don't care." McHallan stormed out of the building shaking his head.
Jerome waited for him to leave and then cautiously tiptoed off of the diving board. "I thought I was supposed to pick you up at 7:30," he jokingly exclaimed and swaggered over to her, who was now standing on the bleachers.
"I got impatient, and I don't have practice today. I also wanted to apologize for the kiss," she quietly said while looking at the ground.
"What do you mean?" he ruffled and dried his hair with his towel.
"It was too soon, I know," she stepped down to him. Portia was wearing a white button-up shirt and a baggy black tie, a brown skirt, and the same black heels. Her hair was tucked under a black, cloche hat.
"I didn't mind."
"I acted too fast. I'm sorry. I'm not one of those slutty girls, I just don't know proper date etiquette. I'm too rash. I don't think before I act. . ."
He stopped her. "It is fine, I am exactly the same way. Impulsive? Doesn't know what the hell to do on a date? I understand."
"You do?" she asked and moved closer towards him.
"Of course I do." He looked out the window. "It looks like the rain is clearing up, do you want to go for a walk in Hyde Park?"
"That would be wonderful," she smiled. "I haven't done that yet."
"You will love it. Just let me get dressed, all right?"
She slowly nodded, "All right."
He grinned and ran to the locker rooms to get dressed as soon as possible, nearly falling on the slippery tile floor.
She let out a scream as he nearly fell down. "Oh Jerome watch out!" she yelped, suddenly feeling protective.
He regained his balance and walked with an overdone cocksure swagger, looking back at her and shrugging.
She laughed and watched him as he disappeared into the locker room. "I like him," she said out loud. "I like him a lot."
One Month Later
One whole month and one whole week had passed. It was early morning, about six AM, in Jerome's flat. He could feel it even inside his room that it was one very cold morning in London. Portia was just waking up. They had gone to the wax museum, gotten in trouble, and went to the theatre the day before. That night, they decided to go back to Jerome's flat.
The windows were dripping with rain outside. He yawned and looked over at Portia, who was rubbing her eyes. "Good morning," he quietly said.
She glanced at him, smiled tiredly, and said, "Hey."
"Do you feel all right?" he asked as he brushed a few strands of hair from her face.
"Uh-huh, why wouldn't I be?"
He thought for a moment and replied, "I dunno, morning sickness, you know. . ."
She shook her head. "No, I do not feel the symptoms of morning sickness," she laughed sarcastically and rested her head on his arm, looking up at him.
When he saw her admiring face, he asked, "What is it?"
"You're such a silly guy."
"Huh?" he smiled.
"Your hair is so spiky and funny. People pay tons of money to buy gel for hair like that, you know. I've never seen hair like that on a VALID before." She laughed and patted him on the head, trying to flatten it down. "I guess they can't specify what type of hair you'll have when they pick the color, can they? I love it."
He nodded and shrugged, "You hungry?"
"Uh-huh."
"Would you care for some tea or coffee?"
"That sounds good." She rolled over and sat up, her back facing him.
He stood up and said while putting on his boxers and an undershirt, "We'll have some breakfast. You can borrow some of my pajamas."
She stood up and caught a black T-shirt and white pajama pants, far too big for her. Nevertheless, she slipped them on. They slowly walked to the kitchen, both yawning and stretching their arms to the ceiling. He set a kettle on the stove for tea, and got a bottle of milk from the refrigerator. He sat at the table across from Portia and put down bowls, spoons, and a box of Cheerios.
Portia laughed, "I take it you can't cook."
"I can't even boil water," he made a silly grin and poured cereal and milk into their bowls.
She kept tugging at the pants to keep them up. "You know, Jerome, the English Channel Cup is less than a month away."
"Oh I know. Four weeks or so, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that would be a month I think," she sarcastically said. "You're so silly. You worried?"
"No," he instantly said, his mouth full of cereal.
"Why?"
"I don't know, I just don't feel worried," he laughed. "I would say I'm pretty prepared."
"At least you are," she sighed.
"Why?"
"I'm worried sick."
"Don't be, I believe in you," he said. Suddenly, the phone rang. He rushed to get it as he muttered a quick 'excuse me.' "Hello."
Jerome Eugene Morrow! Where in heaven's name were you last night?!"
Oh gosh, here we go, he thought. "Nowhere mother, I was right here at home," he sighed and rolled his eyes out of frustration.
"I called you nearly five times around eleven or so and you did not pick up," she nagged.
He blushed, "I must have been asleep."
"No. Tell me the truth," she commanded.
He gave up. "Fine. You want to know the truth? I'll tell you, mother. I met a girl."
Her voice perked up out of happiness. "A girl? How old?!"
"My age. Her name is Portia."
Jerome heard a sudden drop in his mother's voice, "Is that the INVALID girl you're competing against? Oh I should have known, Penny Merriweather told me about that, a rumor she heard. I thought it was just a misconception, but is it true? Are you with an INVALID?!"
"Yes mother, I am with an INVALID," he proudly said.
She was infuriated, "Why are you with an INVALID, for God's sake?!"
"Because I love her. I am twenty-two years old, and I am entitled to spend my life the way I want to, Goddammit."
"Don't you dare bring her here to meet us, your. . ."
Jerome slammed the phone down, shaking with anger.
"What's wrong, honey?" Portia asked.
"Oh nothing, that was my mother."
"You're trembling. Are you angry?" she seemed concerned and stood up, walking to him and kissed the top of his head.
"Yes, just a bit. It's nothing to worry about, just my mother telling me to live my life," he exhaled deeply.
Portia sighed and rubbed the back of his neck caringly. "I understand, it must be hard to be involved with me."
"What do you mean?" he looked up at her inquisitively.
"I mean, I'm just an INVALID, and you're Million Dollar Morrow, the perfect human. I must ruin your rep awfully."
"Oh God no, I don't listen to them, because they don't know how you really are. They don't know that you are the perfect person."
She laughed and walked to the doorway. "Ha, a perfect person. Yeah right."
He approached her and put his arm around her, "You are. You are intelligent, funny, smart, beautiful. . ."
"You really think so?" she stopped frowning.
"Why do you doubt yourself?" he asked.
She put her head on his shoulder and hugged him tightly, "It's easy to doubt myself."
"Don't doubt yourself," he embraced and kissed her on the cheek. "I love you."
"I love you too," she whispered back, and exhaled out of comfort, feeling safe and content in his arms.
Later, Jerome was swimming laps in the pool again and being timed by McHallan, who he could hear as the water rushed past his ears. "FASTER, you lazy laggard! SWIM!"
He reached the fifty lap point and came up for air, "Good?"
"That was shit, Jerome. Awful! Five minutes behind your usual time. . .No, make that close to ten minutes behind."
"Ah well," he shrugged while treading water.
"Get out of the pool," he commanded.
Jerome climbed out over the edge. McHallan threw his towel at him and led him to the bleachers, where they both sat.
"Morrow, you've been acting very different over the past few weeks. Now tell me what's different with you."
He said flatly, "Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Nothing, eh? Tell me, have you met a girl?" eh inquisitively asked.
"Yes."
"Perhaps that Portia Robinson girl?"
Jerome did not want to say anything to McHallan about that, knowing what was coming. "What do you mean?"
"I know you very well, Jerome. You're into that American INVALID."
He laughed to hide the fact, "What makes you think that?"
"Ha! What do you think I am, a bloody idiot?! After grinning and waving and having a little chat with her when she came back here a few weeks ago?" he angrily asked.
Unable to hold his anger in, Jerome stood up, threw the towel on the ground and yelled, "So what if she is an INVALID?"
He shook his head, "Do you love her?"
"Yes! As a matter of fact, I do love her. I love her very much."
McHallan's voice got quiet, "Did you sleep with her?"
Jerome laughed again as to cover up the fact, "Ha! Me, yeah right."
He bellowed, "DID YOU?!"
He hesitated but then said, "Yes. I did. Once," not feeling the need to hide the fact from anyone.
Coach shook his head again and laughed pitifully, "She's not good enough for you."
"What did you say?" he turned around, his eyes flashing in a confronting manner.
"She is not good enough for you," he repeated slowly.
Enraged, Jerome said, "How dare you say that! Who the hell do you think you are to tell me that the one woman I love is not good enough for me? She is positively wonderful! The greatest person I have ever met. She is talented, has a great personality, is very smart, unique, pretty, and not shallow like the rest of the VALID women out there!"
"How do you know? How do you know she's just with you just because you're Million Dollar Morrow?" he laughed.
"Because she isn't like that! She wouldn't! She actually cares about me for me, and that's something even my own mother never did!"
McHallan cynically and hatefully said, "You are Jerome Eugene Morrow. Million Dollar Morrow, however the hell you want to say it. You were engineered to be the perfect human specimen. You could get any woman you want, but you pick a measly INVALID, as common and common-looking as they come? Think, Jerome! Make good choices! You're practically gonna' live forever! You have one of the highest IQs in the entire. . ."
"I don't give a shit, McHallan! I would give up every last drop of my VALID-ness just to be near her! I do not care if she is an INVALID. All right? Do you understand? There is nothing in heaven or on earth that can change that!"
McHallan sighed and stood up, getting all his things.
"Where are you going?" Jerome asked.
No answer, he just walked to the diving board and picked up his hat.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Jerome screamed.
"I'm letting you cool down for a few days. Use that million dollar brain you supposedly have." He walked out the door, shaking his head in pity for him.
Still in extreme anger, Jerome went to the locker room. Slamming the door violently after him, he went straight to the shower, took off his swim shorts, and turned the water on to full blast and the hottest temperature it would go. It came on heavily, and soon, he was not as angry. It was very comforting to him, and made him feel much better. He thought to himself while standing under the water, No. If anything, I'm not good enough for Portia. I love her more than anything. I've never been in love before, but now I feel like an entirely new person.
He turned the water off and stepped out, feeling refreshed and happy. Dripping water all over the white tile floor, he walked to his locker to get dressed.
"Ok look Morrow. Here's a map of the length of the Channel and the currents at the times of the day. Morrow?"
Jerome couldn't even focus. All he could think of was her; Portia Robinson, and the dinner they had last night after ditching the Buckingham Palace Ball. He was shivering while sitting on the diving board, one leg dangling over the side. He wistfully moved his toe around and around in the water. Why. . .I think I am in love! he thought to himself.
"MORROW!!" McHallan screamed.
"What? Huh?" He was so shocked and startled that he stood up on the diving board, surprisingly not falling in the water.
"What is your bloody problem? Now concentrate. Look here, the current goes. . ." He stopped when Portia Robinson walked in and sat down on the bleachers by the large window that Jerome frequently looked out of.
Jerome's heart skipped a beat and he smiled and discreetly waved.
McHallan hissed, "Morrow, that's Portia Robinson, the American INVALID."
"I know," he was still grinning at her with his perfect smile and his eyes sparkling like a sapphire.
Coach McHallan was surprised and somewhat angry. "You've met her?"
"Uh-huh," he nodded happily.
He stood up and gathered his things. "Okay then, you can go. Obviously you're not paying any attention and you don't care." McHallan stormed out of the building shaking his head.
Jerome waited for him to leave and then cautiously tiptoed off of the diving board. "I thought I was supposed to pick you up at 7:30," he jokingly exclaimed and swaggered over to her, who was now standing on the bleachers.
"I got impatient, and I don't have practice today. I also wanted to apologize for the kiss," she quietly said while looking at the ground.
"What do you mean?" he ruffled and dried his hair with his towel.
"It was too soon, I know," she stepped down to him. Portia was wearing a white button-up shirt and a baggy black tie, a brown skirt, and the same black heels. Her hair was tucked under a black, cloche hat.
"I didn't mind."
"I acted too fast. I'm sorry. I'm not one of those slutty girls, I just don't know proper date etiquette. I'm too rash. I don't think before I act. . ."
He stopped her. "It is fine, I am exactly the same way. Impulsive? Doesn't know what the hell to do on a date? I understand."
"You do?" she asked and moved closer towards him.
"Of course I do." He looked out the window. "It looks like the rain is clearing up, do you want to go for a walk in Hyde Park?"
"That would be wonderful," she smiled. "I haven't done that yet."
"You will love it. Just let me get dressed, all right?"
She slowly nodded, "All right."
He grinned and ran to the locker rooms to get dressed as soon as possible, nearly falling on the slippery tile floor.
She let out a scream as he nearly fell down. "Oh Jerome watch out!" she yelped, suddenly feeling protective.
He regained his balance and walked with an overdone cocksure swagger, looking back at her and shrugging.
She laughed and watched him as he disappeared into the locker room. "I like him," she said out loud. "I like him a lot."
One Month Later
One whole month and one whole week had passed. It was early morning, about six AM, in Jerome's flat. He could feel it even inside his room that it was one very cold morning in London. Portia was just waking up. They had gone to the wax museum, gotten in trouble, and went to the theatre the day before. That night, they decided to go back to Jerome's flat.
The windows were dripping with rain outside. He yawned and looked over at Portia, who was rubbing her eyes. "Good morning," he quietly said.
She glanced at him, smiled tiredly, and said, "Hey."
"Do you feel all right?" he asked as he brushed a few strands of hair from her face.
"Uh-huh, why wouldn't I be?"
He thought for a moment and replied, "I dunno, morning sickness, you know. . ."
She shook her head. "No, I do not feel the symptoms of morning sickness," she laughed sarcastically and rested her head on his arm, looking up at him.
When he saw her admiring face, he asked, "What is it?"
"You're such a silly guy."
"Huh?" he smiled.
"Your hair is so spiky and funny. People pay tons of money to buy gel for hair like that, you know. I've never seen hair like that on a VALID before." She laughed and patted him on the head, trying to flatten it down. "I guess they can't specify what type of hair you'll have when they pick the color, can they? I love it."
He nodded and shrugged, "You hungry?"
"Uh-huh."
"Would you care for some tea or coffee?"
"That sounds good." She rolled over and sat up, her back facing him.
He stood up and said while putting on his boxers and an undershirt, "We'll have some breakfast. You can borrow some of my pajamas."
She stood up and caught a black T-shirt and white pajama pants, far too big for her. Nevertheless, she slipped them on. They slowly walked to the kitchen, both yawning and stretching their arms to the ceiling. He set a kettle on the stove for tea, and got a bottle of milk from the refrigerator. He sat at the table across from Portia and put down bowls, spoons, and a box of Cheerios.
Portia laughed, "I take it you can't cook."
"I can't even boil water," he made a silly grin and poured cereal and milk into their bowls.
She kept tugging at the pants to keep them up. "You know, Jerome, the English Channel Cup is less than a month away."
"Oh I know. Four weeks or so, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that would be a month I think," she sarcastically said. "You're so silly. You worried?"
"No," he instantly said, his mouth full of cereal.
"Why?"
"I don't know, I just don't feel worried," he laughed. "I would say I'm pretty prepared."
"At least you are," she sighed.
"Why?"
"I'm worried sick."
"Don't be, I believe in you," he said. Suddenly, the phone rang. He rushed to get it as he muttered a quick 'excuse me.' "Hello."
Jerome Eugene Morrow! Where in heaven's name were you last night?!"
Oh gosh, here we go, he thought. "Nowhere mother, I was right here at home," he sighed and rolled his eyes out of frustration.
"I called you nearly five times around eleven or so and you did not pick up," she nagged.
He blushed, "I must have been asleep."
"No. Tell me the truth," she commanded.
He gave up. "Fine. You want to know the truth? I'll tell you, mother. I met a girl."
Her voice perked up out of happiness. "A girl? How old?!"
"My age. Her name is Portia."
Jerome heard a sudden drop in his mother's voice, "Is that the INVALID girl you're competing against? Oh I should have known, Penny Merriweather told me about that, a rumor she heard. I thought it was just a misconception, but is it true? Are you with an INVALID?!"
"Yes mother, I am with an INVALID," he proudly said.
She was infuriated, "Why are you with an INVALID, for God's sake?!"
"Because I love her. I am twenty-two years old, and I am entitled to spend my life the way I want to, Goddammit."
"Don't you dare bring her here to meet us, your. . ."
Jerome slammed the phone down, shaking with anger.
"What's wrong, honey?" Portia asked.
"Oh nothing, that was my mother."
"You're trembling. Are you angry?" she seemed concerned and stood up, walking to him and kissed the top of his head.
"Yes, just a bit. It's nothing to worry about, just my mother telling me to live my life," he exhaled deeply.
Portia sighed and rubbed the back of his neck caringly. "I understand, it must be hard to be involved with me."
"What do you mean?" he looked up at her inquisitively.
"I mean, I'm just an INVALID, and you're Million Dollar Morrow, the perfect human. I must ruin your rep awfully."
"Oh God no, I don't listen to them, because they don't know how you really are. They don't know that you are the perfect person."
She laughed and walked to the doorway. "Ha, a perfect person. Yeah right."
He approached her and put his arm around her, "You are. You are intelligent, funny, smart, beautiful. . ."
"You really think so?" she stopped frowning.
"Why do you doubt yourself?" he asked.
She put her head on his shoulder and hugged him tightly, "It's easy to doubt myself."
"Don't doubt yourself," he embraced and kissed her on the cheek. "I love you."
"I love you too," she whispered back, and exhaled out of comfort, feeling safe and content in his arms.
Later, Jerome was swimming laps in the pool again and being timed by McHallan, who he could hear as the water rushed past his ears. "FASTER, you lazy laggard! SWIM!"
He reached the fifty lap point and came up for air, "Good?"
"That was shit, Jerome. Awful! Five minutes behind your usual time. . .No, make that close to ten minutes behind."
"Ah well," he shrugged while treading water.
"Get out of the pool," he commanded.
Jerome climbed out over the edge. McHallan threw his towel at him and led him to the bleachers, where they both sat.
"Morrow, you've been acting very different over the past few weeks. Now tell me what's different with you."
He said flatly, "Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Nothing, eh? Tell me, have you met a girl?" eh inquisitively asked.
"Yes."
"Perhaps that Portia Robinson girl?"
Jerome did not want to say anything to McHallan about that, knowing what was coming. "What do you mean?"
"I know you very well, Jerome. You're into that American INVALID."
He laughed to hide the fact, "What makes you think that?"
"Ha! What do you think I am, a bloody idiot?! After grinning and waving and having a little chat with her when she came back here a few weeks ago?" he angrily asked.
Unable to hold his anger in, Jerome stood up, threw the towel on the ground and yelled, "So what if she is an INVALID?"
He shook his head, "Do you love her?"
"Yes! As a matter of fact, I do love her. I love her very much."
McHallan's voice got quiet, "Did you sleep with her?"
Jerome laughed again as to cover up the fact, "Ha! Me, yeah right."
He bellowed, "DID YOU?!"
He hesitated but then said, "Yes. I did. Once," not feeling the need to hide the fact from anyone.
Coach shook his head again and laughed pitifully, "She's not good enough for you."
"What did you say?" he turned around, his eyes flashing in a confronting manner.
"She is not good enough for you," he repeated slowly.
Enraged, Jerome said, "How dare you say that! Who the hell do you think you are to tell me that the one woman I love is not good enough for me? She is positively wonderful! The greatest person I have ever met. She is talented, has a great personality, is very smart, unique, pretty, and not shallow like the rest of the VALID women out there!"
"How do you know? How do you know she's just with you just because you're Million Dollar Morrow?" he laughed.
"Because she isn't like that! She wouldn't! She actually cares about me for me, and that's something even my own mother never did!"
McHallan cynically and hatefully said, "You are Jerome Eugene Morrow. Million Dollar Morrow, however the hell you want to say it. You were engineered to be the perfect human specimen. You could get any woman you want, but you pick a measly INVALID, as common and common-looking as they come? Think, Jerome! Make good choices! You're practically gonna' live forever! You have one of the highest IQs in the entire. . ."
"I don't give a shit, McHallan! I would give up every last drop of my VALID-ness just to be near her! I do not care if she is an INVALID. All right? Do you understand? There is nothing in heaven or on earth that can change that!"
McHallan sighed and stood up, getting all his things.
"Where are you going?" Jerome asked.
No answer, he just walked to the diving board and picked up his hat.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Jerome screamed.
"I'm letting you cool down for a few days. Use that million dollar brain you supposedly have." He walked out the door, shaking his head in pity for him.
Still in extreme anger, Jerome went to the locker room. Slamming the door violently after him, he went straight to the shower, took off his swim shorts, and turned the water on to full blast and the hottest temperature it would go. It came on heavily, and soon, he was not as angry. It was very comforting to him, and made him feel much better. He thought to himself while standing under the water, No. If anything, I'm not good enough for Portia. I love her more than anything. I've never been in love before, but now I feel like an entirely new person.
He turned the water off and stepped out, feeling refreshed and happy. Dripping water all over the white tile floor, he walked to his locker to get dressed.