CHAPTER 16

GONE WILDE

I left. I took off to D.C. and booked a room at the Sheraton. The next morning I found Professor Perkins' home phone number. He had given to me to use if I had any questions about the scholarship.

"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 likethat. She was sure that he had done this on purpose, to push me out the door. I hadto 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 feltlike 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.

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 16th. I had come into Heathrow and had to take the train to Victoria Station. I waited in the queue (I discovered this was a line) 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. There was a light brick building that turned out to be Addenbrookes Hospital and "The Rosey" – the maternity hospital. We pulled into the station 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 iron fireplace and ample furnishings. There were heavy drapes with lace curtains underneath so that I could have privacy from the traffic outside.

Mrs. Lincoln showed me to my room, "Well luv, you share the bedsit with five others, all male. I have them all upstairs so that if they pop out to the loo at night in just their pants you won't get a fright! You know pet, you are rather young to be a graduate.'

"I just tend to do well in school...an overachiever." I smiled as warmly as I could. She showed my little refrigerator and other appliances and the fact that each outlet had an off-on switch. I liked mrs. Lincoln. She had a kind laugh and she had a lovely head of gray curls that made you feel like she was your grandmother. After she left, 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 indoor and outdoor 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 outdoor 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 Fitzwilliam 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 started taking long walks 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 lofty language of history and romance.

The first time I saw Hawkings in his automatic 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 Baron of Beef, my favorite pub when I went in for some pub food. They gave me a quick nod and I nodded back. I also saw a Downing College alumni, John Cleese, in a restaurant having dinner with friends. When he saw that I was eating alone I smiled and sat in the table next to his. It worked, we struck up an conversation and he actually invited me over to sit with him. I met his friends, who were late, 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. I used it to buy drinks for my two buddies and 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 of losing Greg and the baby, 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. I missed him with every fiber of my body. Had I still been in the States, I think I would have thrown my self respect to the dogs and run straight into his arms, begging him not to throw us away.

In April, during the spring break, Professor Perkins arrived in Cambridge. "Your chair just told me you're one of the more promising pupils. Coming from Sheffield, that's quite the compliment. He's not very enthusiastic when it comes to students. Since I'm here, why don't we have dinner? I'll pick you up at 7:00 pm?"

"Fine, I'll wear my best plain skirt, and best plain white blouse–just for you!"

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 at the Baron of Beef 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.

After some rather heavy kissing, he chuckled,"There's a woman and man who just 'tsk,tsked' us, why don't you come back to my room with me?"

"That would be nice." I smiled and he put his arm around my shoulders and escorted me to his room. Gerry was probably twelve years older than me, but we had a lot in common and it didn't seem to be a problem. 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 very satisfying. He would sometimes give me a quote from some forgotten novel and I would laugh.

"I didn't expect that to be funny."

"Oh, I'm just laughing because I had someone quote the preamble to the Constitution to me as foreplay!" We both laughed.

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 is your flight to Washington D.C.?" I asked on his last night in England.

He pulled me over to him and rubbed my bare back, "Tomorrow at 11:00 am. I should leave fairly early. When are you coming home to the States? You could come and stay with me until you get settled and find a job."

"I don't think I'm coming home, not yet. Too much to do and see over here."

He was clearly disappointed, "When you get back, you'll give me a call, right?"

"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, an Italian glass vase of the most exquisite blue, the blue of Greg's eyes. 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 world experiences 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 impeccable 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, the Delicate Flower, in Covent Gardens singing. The owner of the café really took a liking to me. He was very chubby, balding, 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.