» Giant Steps; Book of Dawn - 1
Giant Steps; Book of Dawn - 1
Giant Steps Chapter Segments
Chapter One: The Book of Dawn
The winding road edged past antique colonial structures, carefully preserved remnants of another century. An old woman, dressed in gray overalls and workboots, raked the ground beside the stone wall. Down a steep incline on the opposite side of the street, people gathered around a large duck pond. The sound of sea gulls and geese splintered through the air.
Since our jeep towered above neighboring cars, driving it always provided me with a special panorama. In the distance, brake lights glared, igniting the red beacons in back of every vehicle like an endless series of falling dominos. The traffic came to a complete halt. Trapped in this log-jam of metallic dinosaurs steaming and hissing in place, I jumped from our truck, then sat atop the front fender. The sun solarized halos around the edges of the trees as it descended over a rooftop.
A group of high school students, busily chattering to each other, passed by. A tall, thin girl separated from her friends and walked directly toward me. Her electric-blue eyes danced in their sockets.
"Hi, it's me," she said. A slight challenge filtered through the matter-of-fact declaration. I smiled, remembering a telephone conversation of almost two years ago which began with those exact same words.
"Hi, it's me," the voice barked at the other end of the phone.
"Well, hello, 'me.' I don't recognize your voice, so would you like to tell me who you are?"
"Come off it. My mother told me to call at five."
The clock indicated five forty-five. I flipped through a small pile of papers, chuckling to myself, amused by my own lack of organization and my caller's demand for instant recognition. After leafing through a collection of torn pages and folded notes, I quit the search and asked: "Can I help you?"
"No." Her voice seemed less self-assured.
"Do you want to help me?" I asked, aware my question sounded comical though my intent was serious.
"No," she replied.
"Oh, then why are you calling?"
"Because I have to!"
"What do you mean by 'have to'?" I asked.
"It's very simple," she lectured. "If I didn't call you, my mother was going to turn me over to my uncle who threatened to ship me off to some shrink. So I had no choice."
"Oh," I said, realizing the identity of the caller. "I guess you could have decided to be 'shipped' off to a shrink."
"I didn't want that, obviously," she said. "That's precisely why I'm calling you."
"Then did you 'have to' call me or did you want to call me?"
No immediate answer to my question. I could hear her swallowing; then she cleared her throat. "I guess I wanted to," she whispered.
"Okay ... what now?" I inquired.
"sh*t! This is stupid. You know damn well why I called."
"Do you really think so? I know why your mother wanted you to call. She had her reasons, but what are yours?"
"I'm supposed to make an appointment," she said.
"Are you asking for one?"
"Yes, damn it!"
"Okay," I answered. "Knowing and asking for what we want can be a beautiful experience."
"Sure, sure!" she said. "Before we set a time, let's talk about something. My mom called you very accepting. I want to see how true that is! I don't intend to sit in any room staring into somebody's face for an hour. Can we meet at the duck pond in the old town?"
I had had many sessions with some of my students in that same park. My response came easily. "Sure, if you'd like."
"On my terms," she continued.
"It's your session."
"Good," she said.
"Wednesday, at four," I suggested. "Is that okay for you?"
"Uh-huh. what do you look like?"
"Six feet, three inches tall, stocky, bearded, longish brown hair, large nose." I found myself laughing at my own description.
"Are you that funny-looking?" she said.
"To some people, perhaps. And you, how will I know you?"
"Well, now," she teased. "I will wear a black jacket with a lily-white collar."
"Fine. I'll be sitting on a bench just beside the lower pond."
"Is that all?"
"Yes," I said. "Unless you want to ask or say something else."
"No."
"Okay, then, I'll see you Wednesday."
"Wait," she said. A long pause. "My name is Dawn."
"Hi, Dawn. Many people call me 'Bears,' a nickname my wife and children gave me."
"I'll call you Kaufman, or do I have to call you Mr. Kaufman?"
"Whatever you'd like," I said.
"Okay, Kaufman. I'll see you Wednesday."
Entry in Dawn's Diary, May 3
Called the f*ck yesterday. He sounded much softer than I expected, but I won't like him. His wife and kids call him Bears - how touching. Maybe he was the head keeper at the Bronx Zoo. I hate this! I hate this! I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't need to talk to anyone. Nothing's wrong with me. Damn her. My father was willing to forget it, but she had to keep pushing. Between her and Mr. Potter, you'd think I use the needle. Tina and I must've looked pretty stupid sitting together on the john puffing away - we couldn't stop laughing all the way to the principal's office. All I could think of was ice cream and Goober's Chocolate Covered Peanuts. Noah asked me out Friday, I sure know what he wants. Chubby Dawn or is it fat Dawn. I don't really look at myself in the mirror any more. Only Allen's my real friend. I think. The lecher, Mr. Thomas, keeps looking at Jill's tits, he's afraid to stare at Lisa since she told him to buzz off. Someone ought to cut off his prick and hand it back to him in a shoe-box. I passed Karen in the hall after gym. I couldn't look at her. I made believe I didn't see her, but I know she knew I did. I'm so mixed up about Karen.
