Free Imaginary Men by Enid Shomer Page B

in believing in him when no one else did, like Van Gogh's brother, Theo. They would be completely devoted to each other. Forever. It would take that long for her to finish loving him.
This blood , Riva wrote that night. This is the lifeblood. This blood belongs to Paul Auerbach. My wonderful, hardworking Paul who will never take me for granted .
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''I won't be going to college after all,'' Paul said. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand, turning it rapidly from left to right.
"What?"
He repeated himself. His voice was shaking.
"But it's all worked out, you'll get a loan, you might get a scholarship."
"Forget the scholarship. I never counted on the scholarship. That's just a fairy tale you believed in."
"I thought you had a chance."
"Maybe if I do well the first year. But they'd rather give it to an out-of-state student than to me."
"And the loan by itself isn't enough?"
"It might be if it were big enough."
"Well then what's the problem?" Riva asked, her voice rising against her will.
"My savings are gone as of tonight."
"Oh my God. You gave him the money?"
"I had to." He started to cry. "I had to," he said again. "That bastard. I hate him. I wish he'd die."
"I'm so sorry."
"He doesn't care about my life. I'm his son, and he doesn't care shit for me."
"You have to go to college. You have to. Even if it's part-time at first. Even if you have to go at night."

 

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"I'm so tired of fighting for every little thing."
Riva looked around. In the distance, past the train trestle, a few houselights glowed, smears of yellow and white beyond the windshield, blurred in the thick, low-hanging mist. The trees were fringed with little flaglets of leaves that shook in the evening air. They made a rustling sound, like something breathing out there. "You can't give up," she said.
"Yes I can. I can get that job at Hahn's. There's nothing wrong with selling shoes."
She took his head in her hands and kissed his forehead. "You deserve better. You're going to be a great lawyer. I believe in you." Riva's mind was already racing: how would he raise $1,500 in five months when it had taken him three years to save it up the first time? Maybe it was cruel to keep on encouraging him. After all, she had never been poor. Her closet was jammed full of clothes. She'd never ironed a shirt in her life. She didn't even pick up her dirty underpants off the floor if she didn't feel like it. "You'll get the money somehow."
"I don't care anymore," he said dully. He looked askance and nodded to himself. "I'm going to take you home now."
"No! I don't want to go home yet."
"I'm really tired," he said.
"This could be the most important night in your life."
"Just the worst," he said.
"This is the night you have to be very strong. I love you," she told him, pulling him toward her. She was going to make him believe in himself as much as she did. Couldn't he tell how much she loved him? "It would be like a betrayal if you gave up. What about our life together?"
"You should find somebody else."
"Come here," she said. She opened the door and got out of the car. "Let's take a walk." Within a few paces, she had disappeared into the ground fog.
"Riva?"
"I'm over here. Come on. Bring the blanket."
He got out of the car and walked toward her voice.
She kissed him all over after they lay down on the blanket. She traced his face with her fingertips and wrote "I adore you" on his

 

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brow. She could make him forget how bad he felt. She had that power over him.
"God, Riva," he said. "You're driving me crazy I love you so much."
"Do you have . . . protection?" she asked.
"I won't finish inside you."
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Paul had met lots of subtle people in San Antonio. That was his word"subtle." Cool, neat, hip. Sophisticated, though they were only kids. They came from New York City, Santa Barbara and Grosse Pointe, Lake Forest and New Canaan. They went to prep schools like Miss Porter's in Farmington and the Friends School in Shaker