Chapter Four
If one had walked by room 709 of the Glen Oak Suites Hotel at four in the morning the next day, he or she could have sworn that they had heard muffled screaming and moaning coming from inside.
Ruthie and Peter had just tied the knot sixteen hours before, and after a memorable reception dinner, found their way to the honeymoon suite. They were catching up for the lost time they had been apart these last two years, and were now entering their fifth straight hour of making love.
Inside, the new husband and wife finally drew apart and lay on their backs, totally exhausted but also in absolute ecstasy. It was a full five minutes before Ruthie firstly spoke.
"You're so unbelievable, Peter!" she said. "If this is our first night as a married couple, I can't even imagine what the honeymoon will be like!"
"Ruthie, honey," Peter replied, "like BTO once said, 'You ain't seen nothing yet!'"
"No, sweetheart, I have seen everything, and we just about did everything tonight – and I do mean everything, even stuff we wouldn't have tried while we were dating."
"I was waiting until tonight for that," said Peter. "I would only do that with the one woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And that's you, Ruthie Camden."
"I love you so much, Peter Petrovsky!" said Ruthie. She wanted to roll over to Peter and make love with him yet again, but even he was spent by this time.
Ruthie thought about her dream the previous night. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him about it or not, because she didn't want to ruin the most perfect day of her entire life. But one look in his drowsy eyes told her he must have had pretty much the same feelings too. At least they were both friends and lovers before they had gotten engaged, and were even more in love the moment Lucy recited the vows that they then repeated. But would have it made much difference, would have it been better, if they waited – really waited – for tonight, this night, to lose their innocence?
Someone once sarcastically referred to non-virgins as "used merchandise," but Ruthie certainly didn't feel she was a slut – and Peter absolutely wasn't a gigolo. Still, she almost wished ... no, she didn't. Her thoughts immediately returned to their first night as lovers at that summer camp. It was after they surrendered their inexperience to each other that they had found out they were at the tip of the iceberg of a huge sex scandal, one that implicated a very distorted man with most of their friends, themselves and even Lucy – not to mention the man's sisters, son and daughter. Had they not done what they did, they might never have stumbled onto the scandal. Then again, the man might still be alive, still able to get away with his perversion.
Ruthie checked the alarm clock. It was now almost 4:15. Their ride to the airport would be coming at nine. She decided to try to get a few winks – but knew that after a night like she had, she'd never be able to get any sleep.
After a quick shower together a few hours later – something both really enjoyed because this had been their favorite way of having sex during their pre-courtship – Ruthie and Peter gathered their luggage, and took the ride to the airport. During the six hours over to Honolulu, the couple finally got the sleep they had missed out on the night before.
They arrived ahead of schedule, and as per local custom, each were greeted with a bright yellow lei around their necks, the official color of the island of Oahu. (Each of the other islands of Hawaii was distinguished by different colors as well.) In honor of Ruthie's late grandfather, the Colonel, and their friends Rod and Shelby, they made their first stop the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor. They marveled at the numerous memorial plaques donated by units from across America and around the world. Then a film about the attack on December 7, 1941, which had been remade several years before and made clear that the assault was not totally unprovoked after all; that an American oil embargo against Japan was just as much to blame, and that the Americans were the ones who fired the first shot. Ruthie knew this, of course, but had never dared to speak of it while her grandfather was still alive so as not to embarrass him.
Then, a silent Navy sentry piloted Ruthie, Peter and a couple dozen other people by boat to the monument itself. The floating white memorial, placed perpendicular over the wreck, had seven windows on each of its sides and the top – representing a silent twenty-gun salute. On one wall were the names of the thousands of victims that horrid day. What really took the newlyweds aback, however, were three things. One: the Arizona was still leaking oil, after all these years. Two: while twenty-one Navy ships were sunk that day, eighteen were salvaged and sent back out to sea. Three: the "day of infamy" could have been much worse; for right next door were a line of oil storage containers. Each one large enough to hold a million and a half barrels of oil, pressurized at 350 pounds per square inch. Had the bombers remembered to hit just one of those upside-down bowls, the explosion – as the escort put it – would have been equal to twenty Hiroshima bombs. Honolulu, and even perhaps the neighboring islands of Lanai and Molokai, would have been flattened.
That really made Ruthie and Peter shudder. It was worrisome enough to think that had the Japanese succeeded in making their foothold in the middle of the Pacific, the mainland of the United States and Canada would have been within strike range. But to think that Paradise itself had come that close to being blown to kingdom come was mind-boggling.
Their feet back on terra firma once more – such that it was on an island – they hired a taxi and took the long drive through downtown and into the Waikiki district. It seemed like any other major bustling city on the West Coast, with several exceptions. One, they were actually 2500 miles away from the nearest cities, Los Angeles and San Francisco, separated totally by water – at least a three day trip by commercial freighter. Second, all the malls were open air, so rare was rain on this, the leeward side of the island. Third, they didn't hear a single honking horn anywhere – the taxi driver explained that it was illegal to do that in Hawaii except in case of an emergency. Fourth, explained the driver, the newlyweds were warned to stick to the restaurants, as food at the supermarkets were double the price or more than on the mainland since everything had to be shipped in from California by freighter.
"Anything else?" asked Ruthie.
"Yeah, two more things," said the driver. "Five: if you're looking to buy lottery tickets here, forget it. Like in Utah, gambling is illegal. You won't find a bingo hall, either. In fact, whenever a passenger ship comes within one hundred miles of Hawaiian waters, Customs boards the ship and seals up the slot machines."
"You're kidding," said Peter flatly.
"No, I'm not. Obviously, you're 'haoles,'" said the driver, pronouncing the word 'how-lee,' "what we call mainlanders, and if the 5-0 caught you with a ticket you carried over here, they wouldn't bother you. But if I or anyone else in this state went over to the Mainland, got a ticket, and brought it back here, and we got caught, we'd be in HUGE trouble."
"And six?" asked Ruthie, as the driver slowed down along the main drag in Waikiki as she and Peter reached their hotel.
"Beer and booze is pretty cheap here, more or less the same price as the mainland. And it tastes better too, because we brew it here with water from artesian wells we're right on top of. But if you're going to the stores for that, make sure you get it before 5 before midnight, because that's when they have to stop selling it. Not one minute later."
Having stopped in front of the hotel, Ruthie and Peter were helped out by the driver, who then retrieved their luggage from the trunk. Giving him an extra tip for the local knowledge he imparted to the couple, Ruthie and Peter said "Mahalo," the Hawaiian word for "thank you."
As soon as they hit their room, Peter and Ruthie were at it all over again. This time, the feelings Ruthie experienced were so intense that at one point, she felt a familiar gnawing feeling in her abdomen, the scratching sensation she often had when she was just about to start that time of the month every woman experiences – the two or three day period ideal to conceive a child. Ruthie knew instantly when that happened that they had just gotten pregnant. She could ask for no better husband or a better father to her child, than Peter. Peter had a feeling something was up with his wife when she drew him in even closer, but couldn't quite place it.
They fell asleep just after midnight, but were awoken by screams next door. Must be newlyweds too, they thought, and they would have been correct in that presumption: this was the honeymoon floor, all with double size suites, extra large saunas, showers, and everything else a freshly minted couple would want. Shrugging, they fell asleep, still naked but now in each other's arms.
They awoke the next morning when room service knocked on their door. Ruthie put on her housecoat, yawning a little and grumbling that their wakeup call should have come first; then remembering that breakfast was served early too. As she tipped the porter, she looked next door where the screaming had come from. Her eyes widened.
"PETER!?!" Ruthie screamed.
Peter scrambled out of the bed, slipped on his housecoat, and joined his wife. He saw it too. There was yellow tape across the front of the door, totally covered in blood. Under it, two stretchers were being pulled out, white sheets over each of the bodies: one male, one female.
Ruthie Camden and Peter Petrovsky looked at each other nervously. They had hoped to have breakfast in bed, then a bout of "morning glory" before going on a tour round the island of Oahu. Now, their appetite for nutrition, and each other, had totally dissipated.
If one had walked by room 709 of the Glen Oak Suites Hotel at four in the morning the next day, he or she could have sworn that they had heard muffled screaming and moaning coming from inside.
Ruthie and Peter had just tied the knot sixteen hours before, and after a memorable reception dinner, found their way to the honeymoon suite. They were catching up for the lost time they had been apart these last two years, and were now entering their fifth straight hour of making love.
Inside, the new husband and wife finally drew apart and lay on their backs, totally exhausted but also in absolute ecstasy. It was a full five minutes before Ruthie firstly spoke.
"You're so unbelievable, Peter!" she said. "If this is our first night as a married couple, I can't even imagine what the honeymoon will be like!"
"Ruthie, honey," Peter replied, "like BTO once said, 'You ain't seen nothing yet!'"
"No, sweetheart, I have seen everything, and we just about did everything tonight – and I do mean everything, even stuff we wouldn't have tried while we were dating."
"I was waiting until tonight for that," said Peter. "I would only do that with the one woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And that's you, Ruthie Camden."
"I love you so much, Peter Petrovsky!" said Ruthie. She wanted to roll over to Peter and make love with him yet again, but even he was spent by this time.
Ruthie thought about her dream the previous night. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him about it or not, because she didn't want to ruin the most perfect day of her entire life. But one look in his drowsy eyes told her he must have had pretty much the same feelings too. At least they were both friends and lovers before they had gotten engaged, and were even more in love the moment Lucy recited the vows that they then repeated. But would have it made much difference, would have it been better, if they waited – really waited – for tonight, this night, to lose their innocence?
Someone once sarcastically referred to non-virgins as "used merchandise," but Ruthie certainly didn't feel she was a slut – and Peter absolutely wasn't a gigolo. Still, she almost wished ... no, she didn't. Her thoughts immediately returned to their first night as lovers at that summer camp. It was after they surrendered their inexperience to each other that they had found out they were at the tip of the iceberg of a huge sex scandal, one that implicated a very distorted man with most of their friends, themselves and even Lucy – not to mention the man's sisters, son and daughter. Had they not done what they did, they might never have stumbled onto the scandal. Then again, the man might still be alive, still able to get away with his perversion.
Ruthie checked the alarm clock. It was now almost 4:15. Their ride to the airport would be coming at nine. She decided to try to get a few winks – but knew that after a night like she had, she'd never be able to get any sleep.
After a quick shower together a few hours later – something both really enjoyed because this had been their favorite way of having sex during their pre-courtship – Ruthie and Peter gathered their luggage, and took the ride to the airport. During the six hours over to Honolulu, the couple finally got the sleep they had missed out on the night before.
They arrived ahead of schedule, and as per local custom, each were greeted with a bright yellow lei around their necks, the official color of the island of Oahu. (Each of the other islands of Hawaii was distinguished by different colors as well.) In honor of Ruthie's late grandfather, the Colonel, and their friends Rod and Shelby, they made their first stop the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor. They marveled at the numerous memorial plaques donated by units from across America and around the world. Then a film about the attack on December 7, 1941, which had been remade several years before and made clear that the assault was not totally unprovoked after all; that an American oil embargo against Japan was just as much to blame, and that the Americans were the ones who fired the first shot. Ruthie knew this, of course, but had never dared to speak of it while her grandfather was still alive so as not to embarrass him.
Then, a silent Navy sentry piloted Ruthie, Peter and a couple dozen other people by boat to the monument itself. The floating white memorial, placed perpendicular over the wreck, had seven windows on each of its sides and the top – representing a silent twenty-gun salute. On one wall were the names of the thousands of victims that horrid day. What really took the newlyweds aback, however, were three things. One: the Arizona was still leaking oil, after all these years. Two: while twenty-one Navy ships were sunk that day, eighteen were salvaged and sent back out to sea. Three: the "day of infamy" could have been much worse; for right next door were a line of oil storage containers. Each one large enough to hold a million and a half barrels of oil, pressurized at 350 pounds per square inch. Had the bombers remembered to hit just one of those upside-down bowls, the explosion – as the escort put it – would have been equal to twenty Hiroshima bombs. Honolulu, and even perhaps the neighboring islands of Lanai and Molokai, would have been flattened.
That really made Ruthie and Peter shudder. It was worrisome enough to think that had the Japanese succeeded in making their foothold in the middle of the Pacific, the mainland of the United States and Canada would have been within strike range. But to think that Paradise itself had come that close to being blown to kingdom come was mind-boggling.
Their feet back on terra firma once more – such that it was on an island – they hired a taxi and took the long drive through downtown and into the Waikiki district. It seemed like any other major bustling city on the West Coast, with several exceptions. One, they were actually 2500 miles away from the nearest cities, Los Angeles and San Francisco, separated totally by water – at least a three day trip by commercial freighter. Second, all the malls were open air, so rare was rain on this, the leeward side of the island. Third, they didn't hear a single honking horn anywhere – the taxi driver explained that it was illegal to do that in Hawaii except in case of an emergency. Fourth, explained the driver, the newlyweds were warned to stick to the restaurants, as food at the supermarkets were double the price or more than on the mainland since everything had to be shipped in from California by freighter.
"Anything else?" asked Ruthie.
"Yeah, two more things," said the driver. "Five: if you're looking to buy lottery tickets here, forget it. Like in Utah, gambling is illegal. You won't find a bingo hall, either. In fact, whenever a passenger ship comes within one hundred miles of Hawaiian waters, Customs boards the ship and seals up the slot machines."
"You're kidding," said Peter flatly.
"No, I'm not. Obviously, you're 'haoles,'" said the driver, pronouncing the word 'how-lee,' "what we call mainlanders, and if the 5-0 caught you with a ticket you carried over here, they wouldn't bother you. But if I or anyone else in this state went over to the Mainland, got a ticket, and brought it back here, and we got caught, we'd be in HUGE trouble."
"And six?" asked Ruthie, as the driver slowed down along the main drag in Waikiki as she and Peter reached their hotel.
"Beer and booze is pretty cheap here, more or less the same price as the mainland. And it tastes better too, because we brew it here with water from artesian wells we're right on top of. But if you're going to the stores for that, make sure you get it before 5 before midnight, because that's when they have to stop selling it. Not one minute later."
Having stopped in front of the hotel, Ruthie and Peter were helped out by the driver, who then retrieved their luggage from the trunk. Giving him an extra tip for the local knowledge he imparted to the couple, Ruthie and Peter said "Mahalo," the Hawaiian word for "thank you."
As soon as they hit their room, Peter and Ruthie were at it all over again. This time, the feelings Ruthie experienced were so intense that at one point, she felt a familiar gnawing feeling in her abdomen, the scratching sensation she often had when she was just about to start that time of the month every woman experiences – the two or three day period ideal to conceive a child. Ruthie knew instantly when that happened that they had just gotten pregnant. She could ask for no better husband or a better father to her child, than Peter. Peter had a feeling something was up with his wife when she drew him in even closer, but couldn't quite place it.
They fell asleep just after midnight, but were awoken by screams next door. Must be newlyweds too, they thought, and they would have been correct in that presumption: this was the honeymoon floor, all with double size suites, extra large saunas, showers, and everything else a freshly minted couple would want. Shrugging, they fell asleep, still naked but now in each other's arms.
They awoke the next morning when room service knocked on their door. Ruthie put on her housecoat, yawning a little and grumbling that their wakeup call should have come first; then remembering that breakfast was served early too. As she tipped the porter, she looked next door where the screaming had come from. Her eyes widened.
"PETER!?!" Ruthie screamed.
Peter scrambled out of the bed, slipped on his housecoat, and joined his wife. He saw it too. There was yellow tape across the front of the door, totally covered in blood. Under it, two stretchers were being pulled out, white sheets over each of the bodies: one male, one female.
Ruthie Camden and Peter Petrovsky looked at each other nervously. They had hoped to have breakfast in bed, then a bout of "morning glory" before going on a tour round the island of Oahu. Now, their appetite for nutrition, and each other, had totally dissipated.