CIRCLE OF FRIENDS


Susan felt tense; the seventy-mile drive
from Montgomery had knotted her shoulders,
cramped her legs, and she longed for a good
jog. The small car, an Accord, was a 
gas-saver, but left much to be desired in
the way of comfort. She stared at the
bleak interstate highway ahead, a steady
stream of late afternoon traffic heading
home from the city.

As the miles slipped past, she found herself
in a lovely area of rural countryside, the
trees brilliant-colored in autumn sunlight.
When the sign for a small town appeared at
the next exit, she impulsively took the
off-ramp.

The two-lane was narrow, skirting through
rolling acreage of open fields, light
traffic. When she saw a sign for the turnoff
to a nearby park, she didn't hesitate to 
take it -- maybe she could get in a quick
jog to relax her tense muscles. Afterward,
maybe a meal at a local restaurant, a motel
room for the night before continuing her
trip.

Thick loblolly pines surrounded the small
rustic park, shadows falling with the approach
of sunset...but it looked inviting, almost
deserted except for a few boys halfheartedly
playing on a basketball court. She got out,
went around to the trunk and unlatched it,
grabbing her Reeboks. The jeans and pullover
had been comfortable for the drive, and
now she slipped on the shoes, then locked
up the car.

At a nearby cement picnic table, Susan
looked off at the park, noticing the pond
where a few ducks and swans were lazily
swimming along the shoreline. A dim trail
circled the pond, the path leading
into the pines. A good two-mile jog, she
estimated, stretching and beginning her
warm-up exercise, groaning with relief
as she felt her body unwinding.

"Hello."

Startled, Susan swung around to see a man
in sweats staring at her.

"Oh, you surprised me!" She was suddenly
aware she was in a strange place, not her
small home town -- where she'd always felt
utterly secure. Porter, Alabama was much
like what she'd seen of this town though,
and she tried to remain calm.

"I'm sorry. I saw your car pull in, thought
you might have car trouble?"

Susan sighed, feeling relieved that indeed
it seemed all small towns had helpful
citizens. Smiling, she said, "No, actually...
I'd been driving a long while, and wanted
to take a break, get a little fresh air
and exercise."

"A jog?" He lifted his eyebrows quizzically,
a slight grin of amusement on his face.

She shrugged. "I guess it seems odd, but yes,
I usually run at home and...thought this
looked like an ideal spot to unwind." 

He nodded, still staring -- and Susan found
herself studying him intently, aware that he
was a handsome man in the classical sense:
Tall, with the muscular leanness of a runner,
a strong-featured face, reminiscent of Indian
heritage, broad forehead, deep-set brown eyes,
square chin. Only a tiny dusting of gray in his
black hair near the temples.

He smiled slowly, said, "You chose a good
place, this is where I run every afternoon."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I come here on my way home from work."

"So, you do live in...?" She'd forgotten the
name of the small town on the sign.

He said quickly, "Foxglove. And you? Where
do you live?"

"Porter, about eighty miles north..."

"Yes, I'm familiar with Porter."

Susan saw the young boys leaving the
basketball court, laughing and joking
around as they headed off along the highway.
She said, "Looks like we have it all to
ourselves now."

"Well, shall we start?"

"Yes...uh...?"

"Oliver Scott."

They started off along the straw-littered
path, jogging slowly as a chill wind swept
through the pines. "I'm Susan Brown," she
said, outdistancing him as they entered
the wooded copse.

              * * * * * *

And that's how they met: Susan Brown, a 
thirty-five year old divorcee, owner of
a health club in Porter, Alabama -- and
Oliver Scott, a married man of forty-five
who was the principal owner of a small
successful business in Foxglove.

Neither of them particularly wanted a romantic
involvement -- but there was an undeniable
attraction from that first moment. And because
of it, Oliver purposefully neglected to mention
his wife and thirteen-year-old son.

Thus Susan agreed to dinner with him that
evening, after which he got her phone number
and address.

            * * * * * *

Resuming her trip the next morning, Susan
was confused; she knew she didn't need this
kind of involvement, no way!

For the past five years since her painful
divorce from the high school sweetheart
who left her because she couldn't give him
a child, she had avoided men, period. Coming
from a family of merchants in Porter, she'd
had the resources available to start her
own small health club, Body World. It was
thriving, mainly due to her fitness
programs -- aerobic sessions, and classes
on healthy eating/nutrition.

It had come naturally for her -- she'd been
a sport's enthusiast since high school.
Won medals in swimming, track and field
events and even invaded the all-male baseball
team of the local church. Known for her 
sunny good-looks, tall, trim with auburn
hair and flashing green eyes, she exuded
good health.

Yes, she'd built a business out of her own
fitness passion, and was proud of her
independent success. Though there had been
no man in her life, she had close, good
women friends: Marie Cross and Louise
Printer, both working with her at Body
World. She valued their friendship, enjoyed
their company...and didn't miss having
a man in her life. Yet her mother never
failed to point out this glaring absence
with disgusting regularity.

With a toss of her head, she tried to
put Oliver Scott out of her mind. Who
needed all the heartache anyway?

        * * * * * *

Indeed, she'd successfully dismissed the
man from her mind until Wednesday afternoon
when she found a letter from him in her
mailbox. Noting the return P.O. Box address,
she wondered why not his home...until, back
inside the house, she tore open the 
envelope to read the most tender, beautiful
romantic letter she'd ever received. Old-
fashioned it seemed, and she held it to her
heart, thinking: "He's getting to me, darn it!"

Much to her dismay, the letters continued to 
arrive almost daily. And every time, she
swore she'd not get so emotional over the
next one, but always did. By the second
weekend, she finally sat down and composed
a carefully guarded letter to him -- inviting
him for a visit to her home.

And when he arrived, she wondered why on earth
she'd been so slow to accept her feelings
for him. Emerging from his Volvo, dressed
in a three-piece charcoal suit, he was incredibly
handsome, very attractive.

As arranged, she took him on a tour of the
fitness center, noticing how both of her
friends gave him admiring looks. He seemed
impressed by her business, chatting with a
few customers about to start a class of
aerobics.

Back outside in the brisk fall air, they
got in his Volvo and he said, "You are an
impressive woman. I admire your ambition,
your success."

"Thank you," Susan replied, feeling a dreaded
blush (something she hasn't felt since high
school!) heating her face.

"You are intelligent, as well as beautiful,"
he added, starting the car. "Where to now?"

"There's a very nice restaurant north of 
town, I'll give directions..."

Normally, Susan knew she would be wary;
but somehow, as they drive along, she
found herself at ease, somewhat surprised
at her easy acceptance of him.

During the meal, they talked intimately. 
He told her about his childhood on a
farm outside Mobile, his devoutly religious
parents, six brothers, his time in the
Air Force, his attendance at Georgia Tech,
the degree in electrical engineering,
starting his own business -- omitting
only his marriage.

Susan was charmed, captivated; she vaguely
wondered why he never married, but decided
not to ask right now.

Afterward, they went back to her house for
a drink. And when he took her in his
arms, she was astonished by the overwhelming
erotic feelings that had her tremble with
passion. It had been so long since she'd
been kissed, thoroughly kissed, that it
spun her into a state of ecstasy, rendering
her vulnerable, willing.

Inevitably, they made love -- over and over,
and she was delirious with renewed ardor,
thinking he'd spend the night.

       * * * * * *

So she was shocked when, around midnight,
Oliver insisted he must leave, head back
to Foxglove.

She had prepared wine and cheese; they
were sitting before the crackling, 
glittering fireplace, watching the flames
twist, the logs burn.

"But you're welcome to say here," Susan
insisted, snuggling closer to him beneath
the shared afghan.

"Believe me, I'd like to." Oliver kissed
her lightly on the forehead. "But I have
unfinished projects I must work on
tomorrow."

"Sunday? Don't you ever take time off?"

"Sure, I came here today. It's just that
one of my recent designs on a transformer
is giving me headaches."

"And you can't get it off your mind?" She
laughed, touching his face. "I'm the same
way when I dream up a new idea for my club."

The firelight shadowed his face, his 
deceptive smile; he removed her wineglass,
slowly lowering her to the floor, pulling
away her silky robe.

Susan allowed herself to believe she had
stumbled upon a man she could easily fall
in love with.

             * * * * * *

Monday morning, Marie and Louise pumped
her for explicit details about this new
man in her life. Sitting in the office, 
going over account books, Susan tried to
joke about it, hoping for a light-hearted
approach.

But Marie, with her uncanny knack of 
intuition, asked, "And he's only a friend?
Come on, you're falling for him, I can
see that little sparkle in your eyes.
A dead giveaway!"

"And why not?" Louise asked, sighing.
"He seems perfect for you, Susie."

"Maybe. But if he's such a perfect
catch, how come he's never been married?"

Both women, who resembled one another 
with their pert, pretty blonde tanned
appearances, widened their baby-blue eyes,
mock surprise on their faces.

"That right. Apparently never married.
I mean, at 45 that strikes me as strange."

Louise shook her head. "So what? He's a
bachelor...but a very eligible bachelor
I bet. Maybe he just never found the right
woman?"

Susan closed the ledger with a loud clap.
"Even so, he might want children -- and that
lets me out." She got up, went through the
door to the gym.

"Poor Susie," Marie said, "she really got
burnt when Jeff split."

           * * * * * *

November arrived with a blustery wind that
swept the dry, fallen tree leaves across
the yards, down the street, the trees
soon shedding their colorful cloaks to 
reveal stark, naked limbs etched against 
a leaden sky.

The love affair caught fire; Susan and
Oliver spent at least one evening a week
together, always in Porter.

Susan finally let down her guard, she'd
opened her heart to Oliver's gentle ways,
his clever wit and stimulating conversations.
The more time they spent together, the 
better she liked him as a man. He was 
intelligent, well-read, a sensual lover
and had a streak of playfulness -- even
enjoyed sports, having won medals in 
earlier running marathons.

However, Susan did worry about telling
him of her first marriage; but once she
confided in him, he was amazingly empathetic.
Yet when pressed for his feelings about
having children, he became guarded. This
caused her anxiety -- and abruptly she told 
him she didn't wish to see him for two weeks.

           * * * * * *

The day before Thanksgiving, Susan impulsively
drove to Foxglove; she hoped to surprise 
Oliver, invite him to spend the holiday
with her, meet her parents -- who were eager
to see this mysterious man in her life.

She found Foxglove to be smaller than 
Porter, by only about 5,000 less in
population; but the town was quaint,
picturesque.

As she drove along the streets, searching
for SCOTT ELECTRICAL DESIGN, she was 
frustrated not to locate the building 
Oliver had often described. She could have
phoned his office in advance, but had
wanted to surprise him by her arrival.

She pulled in at a service station, told
the young attendant her problem, and
he gave her quick directions, which
she followed easily to find the faded
brick building with a canopy over the
aging sidewalk.

Pulling into the parking space, she
shut off the engine, hesitating. Would
Oliver be happy to see her, she wondered?
Was this a mistake? She nervously
rummaged in her purse, took out her
compact, gazing at herself in the tiny
mirror, applying fresh lipstick.

When she looked up, she saw the wide
wooden doors opening, and Oliver emerge
from his office; she reached for the
door handle, but suddenly saw an older
woman right behind him, then a teenage
boy. They started off down the street
in the opposite direction, Oliver placing
an arm across the woman's shoulders...the
boy saying something...

She rolled down the window, could hear
the boy's laughter, then his voice as
he exclaimed, "Mom! I already asked
and dad said it's fine, right dad?"

Oliver was nodding, the dark-haired
woman shaking her head as the boy dodged
ahead, hurrying along and urging, "Hurry!
Or we'll be late!"

Susan was shocked into a trancelike
state, unable to move, watching as
they disappeared around the street
corner, unable to fathom what she'd just
witnessed. Married? Oliver was married?
Or was he divorced, merely having a visit
with his ex-wife and son?

She saw his familiar Volvo at the
stoplight down the street, and waited
until it was out of sight, then
got out and went into the office.
It only took a few casual questions
for the young, pretty secretary at the
front desk to explain that yes, Oliver
was married, that was his wife and son
who'd just left the building... 

The drive back to Porter was passed
in a daze of disbelief and growing
embarrassment at her stupidity...
the first shock wearing off, and her
anger, outrage surfacing as she 
arrived home, thinking of what kind of
story she'd have to tell her parents
now that she'd learned this information.

          * * * * * *

The day after Thanksgiving (which Susan
had spent alone and miserable) Oliver
phoned, all warmth and tenderness.

Hearing his voice, she started crying,
but managed to firmly say good-bye,
slamming down the phone savagely.

He called back immediately, but she
didn't answer the phone.

When the ringing continued relentlessly,
she unplugged the phone.

Monday she got a long letter from him,
his bewilderment at her withdrawal only
making her realize what a great actor 
he'd been during their time together.

She cried buckets over the next week,
tearing up each letter unopened as it
arrive daily, burning the earlier ones
in the fireplace.

At last though, she squarely faced a
painful, wrenching question: WHY? Why 
didn't he tell her he was married? And 
the answer was very obvious: He had 
no plans to leave his wife.

            * * * * * *

The next Monday afternoon she wasn't 
surprised to see Oliver's Volvo parked
outside the health club when she came
out the door; there had to be a
confrontation eventually.

She walked directly to his car, got in
and silently stared at him.

He moved to touch her, but she flinched,
edged back. "Don't!"

"Please darling, you've got to tell me
why you won't see me! What has happened?"
He loosened his tie, adding, "You know
I love you, Susan."

She swallowed, pressing her lips together
firmly, then said with quiet calm, "As
much as you love your wife and son?"

His face flushed, he stammered, "How...
did...you...?"

"I drove to Foxglove the day before
Thanksgiving. I...I...I saw you all
as you left the office together."

"Darling, let me explain..."

She held up her hand. "No. There's no
need for lies. Or explanations."

"But it's not what you think! Ellen
and I stay together only because of
our son, Kenny. We..."

"Please stop." Susan looked at him
sadly, wisely. "Whatever your current
situation, you are married, living with
your wife."

"Yes but..."

"Let me finish. I've done a lot of soul-
searching about this, Oliver. Don't think
I don't love you, I do."

She paused, took a deep breath, feeling
the tears in her eyes. "You see, no
matter how I feel about you, I cannot
continue to knowingly be involved with
a married man."

He clenched his fists, grimacing.

"My decision has more to do with my
loyalty to women, all women...than
anything else. I'd feel like a traitor
to my own sex, a backstabbing hypocrite.
I respect a wife's position, and I 
cannot break up a home."

"But we're not happy! We may divorce..."

Susan slowly opened the door, looking
at him seriously. "If you ever do,
then I might reconsider. But not now."

He made a futile gesture with his hand,
watching helplessly, hopelessly as she
got out and turned away, never glancing
back as she walked out of his life forever.

          * * * * * *

It wasn't easy, by any means, and Susan
cried herself to sleep many nights after
the loss of Oliver. She suffered
depression, sorrow, grief at what she'd
felt only beginning to happen between them,
a beautiful romance, love. Yet it was all
based on a false premise, and that soured 
it somehow in her memory.

She knew that someday she'd consider it
an experience that made her emotionally
stronger -- but more importantly, it had
given her insight into how women could
refuse to participate in hurting one another
by honoring each other as sisters.

It had been, Susan knew, a profound lesson
about why women had struggled so hard for
sisterhood in the feminist movement: Women
needed to be a circle of friends, not
enemies.


             THE END