Elizabeth's Statement: Meeting Charles

"Elizabeth, I've made a decision," Polly Cronin declared. "I'm finally moving on and regaining my independence. It's been seven years since your father left, and it's time for me to be my own woman."

Elizabeth glanced up from the book she was reading and looked at her mother, who was standing across the kitchen at the counter. Polly had one hand on her hip, and the other was holding her cup of coffee. Elizabeth picked up her own cup of coffee and quietly took a small sip. She thought carefully of what to say in response to her mother. She put down her coffee cup, folded a corner of a page, and closed her book to give her mother her full attention.

"That's great, Mother," she said, giving Polly a warm smile. "Do you have a date planned? Are you changing your last name back to your maiden name?"

"It's always somewhere crazy with you, isn't it?" Polly said, rolling her eyes. "No, Elizabeth. I'm going to buy a car."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise. "A car? What's wrong with the one you have now?"

"It's old, Elizabeth," said Polly. "And I bought it when I was still with your father. It's registered to both of our names. I want something new, fresh, and all my own. And with the alimony your father has been paying up until now, I'm able to buy something really special. I'm going to buy a Jaguar."

"A Jaguar?" asked Elizabeth. "Those are really luxurious. Aren't those made in…"

"England." Her mother completed, flatly. Tension filled the kitchen as Polly and Elizabeth looked each other in the eye.

A heavy moment passed before Elizabeth spoke. "All right, Mother. I think that's a great idea! Would you like me to come with you to help? We can have a nice day together."

Polly sighed. "I suppose you can come along. I'm going to get dressed. Have yourself pulled together in 20 minutes." She turned around to exit the kitchen.

"Mother," Elizabeth said. "I was thinking…what are you going to do with your old car? Mine is about to fall apart…and yours is still running great. Maybe I could…."

Polly snapped back to look at her daughter sitting at the table by the window. "Don't even think about it," she said. "I'm using that old thing for trade in." She left the kitchen and started up the stairs.

Elizabeth exhaled and looked out the window. She enjoyed the silent crisp air of an early Saturday morning in June. She shuffled her socked feet on the floor for a few minutes before finishing her coffee, and heading upstairs to get dressed.

Polly and Elizabeth entered the Jaguar Dealership and looked around. Elizabeth was surprised by how upscale the facility was. The floor was marble, there was a fountain in the center, and the cars inside were posed very intentionally. The whole scene was very seductive. Polly seemed unfazed by the scene as she got down to business and began looking at different cars. Elizabeth half listened as her mother complained about and praised certain vehicles. She gazed up at the ceiling, then down at the floor, and then looked past her mother, and over to two salesmen watching Polly and her from across the dealership floor. One man about 50, the other nearing 40. She was immediately struck by the younger man's piercing blue eyes in contrast to his dark wavy hair. Ever since she was a little girl, she was intrigued by older men with blue eyes…

"Well look at these birds, Charlie," the older of the two men said, nudging his co-worker in the ribs with his elbow. His grin widened as he saw Elizabeth glance over at the two of them, and hurry to keep up with her mother as she charged around the dealership.

"Yeah, I see them, Rob," Charles replied, smiling. "And it's a good thing it's my turn to make a sale, because I smell commission coming my way."

"Maybe even more than that," Rob said, leering at the young woman. "She's a cute little number, eyeing you."

"That kid? She looks about 25. And she's pretty mousy." Charles said, chuckling.

He observed Elizabeth. She had long black hair, down to her waist. Parts of it were stringy, crooked, and in her face. She wore a long matronly skirt; it too was crooked with part of her slip peeking out. Her sweater completely hid her shape and she was wearing running shoes with bunched socks. At 39 years old, Charles had reached the point in his life where he cared about how a woman carried herself and how she presented herself in public.

At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder what was hiding underneath that baggy sweater. And behind her shyness, he could see some fire in her eyes when she peeked over at him. A smile drew slowly over his lips.

Rob glanced over at Charles and observed the slow smile, which he'd become accustomed to seeing on his colleague when female customers came in. He smiled back.

"Or," Rob started, "You can always go for Mom over there. "She probably wouldn't mind having her blinds dusted off."

Charles laughed loudly at his co-worker's sleazy expression. Polly and Elizabeth looked over at the two men directly. Charles smiled at them and waved.

"I guess that's my cue," he said, running a hand through his short black hair. He walked up to the two women. The daughter was peering over at him again and the mother was bent over a car, reading the tag.

"Ladies, good afternoon," he said, gently touching the small of Elizabeth's back. "My name is Charles. I'll be taking care of you both today. Are there any questions I can answer for you right now?"

Polly spun around to look at the salesman. "I want to buy this car. I'll pay cash for it."

"Absolutely, ma'am," he started.

"Polly Cronin." she replied. "And this is my daughter, Elizabeth."

Charles smiled at the two women. Elizabeth blushed. She found his twinkling eyes and crows feet very sexy.

"Then absolutely, Mrs. Cronin."

"Please, Charles. It's Ms. Cronin." Polly interjected, putting up her hand.

Charles maintained his composure by thinking about his commission on the vehicle she was eyeing.

"I'll tell you what, Ms. Cronin," he said. "The only thing better than knowing that this car is about to come home with you is taking it for its first test drive. If you let me make a copy of your drivers' license, I'll have you dancing with it in no time. And if you'd be more comfortable, why don't you take it out by yourself?' He glanced over at Elizabeth and winked at her. She gave him a secret smile.

"I'd like that," said Polly. "Elizabeth, you stay here and tell them to appraise my old car. I'll finish the sales paperwork when I come back."

Once Polly was out on her test drive, Elizabeth exhaled and leaned against the reception counter at the dealership. Charles chuckled, handed her a bottle of water, and leaned with her. They enjoyed a moment of silence.

"Thank you, Charles," Elizabeth said, taking a drink from her water bottle. "Sorry about my mother being so…forward. She doesn't mean to be…that is…she's not always quite so…"

"Oh, don't even worry about it, Elizabeth" Charles said, taking a drink. "This is Jaguar. She's no worse than anyone else. I like that she's all business. And she did leave me with some attractive company."

"Lizzie, please. Call me Lizzie." she said. "And I can definitely say the same!"

She was surprised by her boldness with this man. He was so handsome, in a traditional way. She was usually so shy and meek. But something about his blue eyes stirred something in her. A power that she thought had been locked up inside. Something that she'd thought she'd lost after her father left. And after Polly had taken away…

Drop Dead Fred.

Elizabeth stomach did a summersault of excitement before she realized that Charles had been talking to her while she was drifting away. She looked directly into his eyes.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" she interrupted him.

Charles was pleasantly caught off guard. He grinned.

"Absolutely." he said.

Charles leaned Lizzie against the door and kissed her frantically as he dug into his pocket for the keys to his apartment. She crushed herself against his lean, muscled body and pulled his face to her lips, smothering him in hot, wet, desperate kisses. She felt an excitement pulsing, tingling through her that had been with her all day since she'd asked Charles out at the dealership. He found his keys.

He fought with the lock to get the door open. Her hands found their way up his shirt. She began touching his back. She loved the light layer of sweat forming on his aroused body. She nuzzled her face into his neck. She loved the way his skin smelled, the way his light stubble felt against her cheek. She wondered if he would someday let her shave his handsome face.

The cologne he wore smelled so masculine, familiar. Like when she and Fred would use her father's shaving products and pretend to shave, and then go outside and spend hours running around, sweating, and then laying down in the dirt together, out of breath and exhausted; they could hardly breathe. She remembered the feeling of Fred's hand intertwined with hers; she always loved the few tender moments they had. Drop Dead Fred was such a goof-ball. He held her small hand when she was a child, and he promised her that they would be best friends forever. When she'd lost him, she wrote to him promising that one day they would run away together once they found each other.

She was still waiting for that day.

She gasped as she and Charles tumbled onto his bed together. Her eyes had been closed and she didn't even remember entering the apartment. She moaned as his arms circled her small waist, and his tongue gently licked up and down her pale neck. He lay on his back and pulled Lizzie on top of him. He unbuttoned the conservative blue cardigan she wore and pushed the article off; her creamy skin shone in the dim light of his room. He smiled approvingly when he saw her petite shape and taut figure. Together, they quickly removed her skirt and the rest of his clothes.

He sat up and held her close; she stayed on top of him. She draped her arms around his neck as they built a rhythm in their movements. Faster and faster, both of them panting together. He saw fire in this girl, one he never would have expected when he saw her at the dealership this morning. This mousy young woman came to life in their love making. He wondered if this was their plan since the start of dinner. At this point, he didn't even remember what they ate.

And while he pondered, Elizabeth held his face steady, and looked deeply into his blue, blue eyes, and reclaimed the panting, the sweat, the breathlessness of the her childhood, her lost days when she was filled with love,

with hope,

with excitement,

life,

spirit,

family,

father,

Fred.

And in a whirlwind, she came, and she felt the power coursing through her end with as much a crescendo as it began. She shuddered and slumped against this man she barely knew. She began to laugh until tears ran down her face. Charles kissed her hand, and fell asleep soon after. And in the silence, she found she was no longer laughing…but the tears on her face were still hot.

Dr. Ryland finished the last of his notes quietly. He cleared his throat and patted his forehead with a light blue handkerchief he had in his pocket.

"Very good, Elizabeth," he said. "Thank you for recounting when you met Charles. For my notes…what began as a one night stand ended up being a two year marriage?"

Elizabeth sighed. "It was three years," she said. "In June."

The doctor smiled. "My apologies, Ms. Cronin." he replied.

Elizabeth looked away from him, her eyes wet. She mumbled something and glanced over at the empty seat on the couch next to her. Dr. Ryland could see that she was starting to get frustrated and impatient.

"I think what we have here is a case of replacement, Elizabeth," the doctor started. "Drop Dead Fred was initially a way that you repressed your emotions and fear from your parents' fighting as a child. Later, once your father left, you continued to look for a figure that could replace his role, and likely Drop Dead Fred's. Once you met Charles, a confident and older gentleman, you projected your needs onto him, making him man in your life to fulfill the now empty piece.

"When Charles then left," Dr. Ryland continued. "Your mind recreated Drop Dead Fred and generated the chaos necessary to help distract you from your pain. Your mother discussed these incidents with me during the appointment when I prescribed the neutralizing pills; smearing feces on her carpet, sinking your friend's house boat, disrupting a restaurant during its lunch hour, and beating a mall violinist with your purse."

The doctor exhaled – he wasn't used to examining adult needs and motivation. It was much easier to work with children. Fortunately, Elizabeth was compliant, and she nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Dr. Ryland," she said. "I agree with you; you're probably correct about all of your diagnoses. It must all stem from my relationship with my parents, and connections with men."

He smiled. "But you are dating someone right now, aren't you? I believe your mother mentioned that as well?"

Elizabeth smiled lightly. "Somewhat, yes," she said. "Mickey Bunce. He's a very friendly and gentle man. I've known him since we were little kids."

"Let's talk about him a little," Dr. Ryland suggested. "Do you remember when you met him? Try to go back to your childhood, and we can talk about his role back then and your relationship with him today."

"All right," Elizabeth said, glancing at her watch. She placed her hand on the empty seat next to her. "I remember. Drop Dead Fred didn't like it when I played with Mickey. He would always become jealous and cause trouble. But Mickey was such a sweet kid; he didn't let anything bother him…"