Blue Beauty
Part III of the Dawnwalker Cycle


a novel by
Wes Boyd
©2004, ©2009, ©2012



Chapter 3

"Whenever you're ready," he said, going to the door and opening it for her. "We could head down to Dino's. It's just down the street."

"Fine," she said, heading out the door as he followed. "I should appreciate a brief walk, now that I'm out of those high heels."

"Not a bad night for it," he said as she locked the door after he had closed it. "Anyway, you said that this evening was going to cause some kind of a problem for you."

"Not a problem, I think, but a puzzle, a quandary, an uncomfortable question that it appears I shall soon have to answer," she replied as they started for the stairs. "Trey, if I'm going to talk this out with you, I shall have to give you a bit of background." She let out a sigh. "Where to begin? It's all rather complicated. Perhaps it's best to say that I discovered I enjoyed old English novels even before I began to play Blue Beauty."

"You're saying fifth, sixth grade, something like that, right?"

"Along about that time, yes," she admitted. "I picked up David Copperfield in the fifth grade, I think. I found it fascinating. My teacher at the time said it would be a hard book to read at that age, but I did not find it so. I will admit, my earlier attempts had been easier books, more appropriate for a youngster, things like Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver's Travels, but I soon discovered the Brontes."

"So you've been reading this stuff so long you sound like you just stepped out of one of those old English doorstoppers," he laughed.

"To a degree," she said coolly. "There are other reasons which we need not get into just now. Suffice to say; by the time I was in the seventh grade, I knew that somehow I had to make my life revolve around those old novels. Upon considering it, I realized that the only way to really learn about them would be in a college. Then I realized that someone had to teach the students in the college."

"So you decided right then and there you wanted to be an English literature professor?"

"Essentially," she agreed. "However it wasn't that simple. I soon discovered that it would take many years of study, both undergraduate and graduate, to be able to accomplish that goal. And I knew from that point it was going to be a problem." She let out a sigh, and went on. "Trey, I dislike discussing my parents, but I must. They both have the firm belief that college is a waste of time for a woman, especially a woman who should be producing as many grandchildren as possible, as soon as possible."

"So they didn't like the idea of you going to college?"

"That is not strong enough a statement," she said. "In fact, they were utterly opposed, and everything I've accomplished has been in the face of that opposition. I could not have managed it at all were it not for the fact that I've been mostly estranged from them since my high school graduation." She snickered and went on, "I only managed it because one of my undergraduate friends was nice enough for some years to help me provide the illusion of a romance serious enough that it might eventually produce the grandchildren they so desire. That, and the fact that I rarely saw them."

"So what do they think now?" he couldn't help but wonder.

"Frankly, I do not know and I do not care," she replied, with an edge in her voice. "Toward the end of my doctorate work, the illusion began to break down, and I was forced to undertake desperate measures to keep them at arm's length."

"Karate?"

"No, not that," she laughed. "Something even more devastating." Myleigh laughed. "I invited them to dinner, along with Olivia, my roommate, while I was doing my doctorate. I should explain that Olivia and I were not terribly close, but she was willing to assist me. She was an extremely active feminist and enjoyed the opportunity to take a man, any man, down a notch. Since it was my father we were talking about I was quite willing to cooperate with her idea."

"This had to be some dinner," Trey smiled.

"It was nothing fancy, just a small, intimate affair," Myleigh smiled. "I should possibly also explain that Olivia is black and a lesbian, and rather forward about both. All it took was one long, deep, passionate kiss between Olivia and me. When I opened my eyes, my parents were gone, and I have not heard from them since, to my great relief."

Trey shook his head. Yeah, that would do the job all right. "I probably shouldn't say this," he said, "But the betting around campus is about six, two and pick that you're a lesbian."

"I'm aware of that," she laughed again. "It is rather useful. Come, Trey, I'm a single woman, living alone, and not desirous of unwelcome advances, so it makes a useful fiction. Living with Olivia for two years, I did pick up a few of her mannerisms, I suppose."

"You're not, then?"

"I got to know several, through Olivia, while I was doing my doctorate work. Some were very interesting people. The truth be told, I would be happy to be a lesbian if I enjoyed the sex, which I do not. No, the truth is that I'm quite heterosexual. However, we're drifting far from the topic I wished to discuss, and we are but a short distance from Dino's, where I would not wish anyone to hear our discussing my sexual preferences."

"I can understand," he smiled as they walked up to the pizzeria. "Anyway, your parents were difficult about your going to college at all," he continued, trying to get the topic back on track.

"Very difficult," she agreed. "In fact, I received no support from them whatsoever. Trey, I worked my way through college on a combination of scholarships, grants, and a series of jobs, which included running a floor buffer in the summer months, along with moral support from my undergraduate roommate, Crystal, and our mutual boyfriend Randy. It was through their agency that I took up surfing, I might add."

"That's the couple in the picture on your desk, right?"

"I suppose you must have seen it," she said as he opened the door for her. "Yes, that's them. I confess, getting through undergraduate school and later graduate school would not have been possible without their moral support. But the root of my problem comes from the fact that the other way I got through my years of study was through a vast array of student loans, sometimes at usurious rates."

"I know how that works," he said, surveying the room. It was fairly full; probably there were a number of people here who had been at the concert. "How do you want your pizza?" he asked.

"No meat, just vegetables," she replied. "I'm afraid I'm a vegetarian, although mostly through habit, and not principle."

"I can do veggies," he smiled. "You hungry?"

"Yes, but if you get a large you shall wind up eating most of it yourself as I am normally quite a light eater," she said. "I confess I didn't have any dinner as I was a little nervous about the performance, but that still will not add much to my appetite."

"I'll get a medium and we'll see how far it goes. What do you want to drink?"

"They do have beer here, don't they? Trey, if you're over 21 I'll have a draft, but if you're not, a small Coke will be fine."

"I'm actually 25," he smiled. "And I could hack a beer myself. Looks like Bud or Miller."

"It does not matter," she smiled. "After drinking English beer, both seem rather dull. I'm surprised at your age, although I must admit that I did think you were rather mature for an undergraduate."

"I spent four years in the Army before I started college," he explained. "I didn't want to get involved with the student loan hassle."

"That was very wise of you," she grinned. "I shall find us a table."

It took a few minutes to get the pizza ordered. When he turned to look for the table Dr. Harris -- er, Myleigh -- had chosen, he found her surrounded by several people who had been at the concert. Have to call them fans, he thought. Well, he couldn't blame them -- it had been a darn good performance. It took until after the pizza was delivered and eaten to get back to their discussion; in fact, the place was emptying out.

"To get back to it," he said finally. "I still don't see this puzzle you were talking about."

"You just saw a piece of it," she said. "I've been on this campus for over a year, and I hardly am noticed except as a slightly odd professor of English literature. Yet, I sit down and play Blue Beauty for a couple of hours and somehow I'm a folk hero."

"That should make you feel good," he commented.

"Oh it does, but it also adds to the confusion I feel," she said. "The point I was wishing to make earlier is that for many years, I worked very hard with a single goal in mind, to be a professor of English literature. I endured many privations, studied very hard, lived quite frugally, put much else to the side and amassed a huge debt along the way in pursuit of the successful accomplishment of that goal. All that time, Trey, Blue Beauty was nothing more than a solace, a relaxation, a diversion. I only wound up playing Blue Beauty with Jennifer by pure accident, and I confess, I didn't think much of it. It was nothing more than a way to increase my skills in something I enjoyed. When the opportunity arose for me to stay with Randy's parents for the summer several years ago, I mostly saw it as a chance to learn more from Jennifer and Blake. Then not quite three years ago I was given an opportunity to spend the summer in England doing research for my doctoral thesis. I was able to get a grant to cover part of the cost, but by then my savings were nearly exhausted, and I had never anticipated receiving this chance to study abroad. But what an opportunity! Randy, to his credit, offered to cover the balance of the expense, on a promise to pay him back sometime in the distant future. I came close to accepting his offer though it bothered me considerably."

"You didn't want to get tied down by a loan from a boyfriend with the strings that might be attached?" he asked.

"Essentially," she said. "Though, by then, Randy was just a mere friend, not a boyfriend or a lover any longer. I digress, but it could have been awkward. You see, Randy is tied very tightly to a family business in his home town. There is a great deal of money involved, but the result is that we both knew he was unlikely to ever leave." She sighed. "There had been times I thought Randy and I might marry, but after the summer I spent living with his family -- which do not take to mean that I was living with him -- we both knew it would never work. Not that we cared any less for each other, but there is little to attract me to the area except for my friendship with him, and with Jennifer and Blake. The prospect of my teaching English literature would have been impossible for example, and in other ways my life would have been much different than I had worked toward or wanted it to be."

"So you broke it off, right?"

"No nothing that simple," she said. "Randy also realized that we had the problem, so it never got that far. We are still friends, very close friends, to the point where I usually stay with him and his wife when I visit Jennifer and Blake. In fact, I stayed with them for several weeks last summer, at her insistence, and somewhat over my protests. And, Randy and I also play in the band together."

"So he married this Crystal, right?"

"No," she laughed. "Crystal proved to be just as obstinate as I. She's now a raft guide in the Grand Canyon, but I shall refrain from telling that story since it would take half the night. No, Randy and I taught his high school girlfriend to surf, and last winter I played Blue Beauty at their wedding."

"She must be pretty tolerant to have you in and out of his life like that."

"She is, but that's another long story I need not get into. I realized I have digressed, but the cognizant fact in this whole story is that I passed up the opportunity to marry the only man I've ever really had a desire to marry in pursuit of my goal of teaching English literature."

Trey shook his head. "Now you're having second thoughts, right?"

"Might have beens, mayhaps," she smiled. "In any case, I was right on the verge of accepting Randy's loan which could have possibly led places I did not wish to go, when all of a sudden I received a check out of nowhere from Jennifer and Blake for my first share of At Home."

"Enough to go to England?"

"More than enough," she smiled. "Ten times what I expected, and it was only a partial quarter. I continue to get checks quarterly. They were starting to tail off a little, but were enhanced again by the share from Back Porch, which we subsequently recorded. In a couple of months, I should receive a quite large check for my share of Saturday Night as Jennifer assures me that early sales have been strong."

"A lot of money?"

"It has made a difference," she said. "Trey, perhaps you will understand that financially speaking Marienthal is not all that substantial a place to teach, especially without tenure. I would not want to say that my pay is penurious, but it could be more liberal. It would be nearly impossible to service the debt on my student loans and provide provender for the pantry without the checks from Jennifer. As it is, the debt has been substantially reduced."

"Good deal," he said.

"It has been a very good deal," she agreed. "In fact, in some ways, too good a deal. Trey, to be very simplistic about it, in my lifetime I've earned significantly more money accidentally with my hobby than I have on purpose with all the other jobs I've held, including running a floor buffer."

"Uh-oh," he said. "I think I begin to see it, now. The grass is beginning to look greener on the other side of the fence, but climbing over it means that you have to give up what you've spent years working toward."

"Yes," she admitted. "Along with seeing opportunities I've missed along the way. And, to be honest, trying to teach an appreciation of old English literature to thickheaded undergraduates isn't quite the bed of roses I once thought it might be."

He shook his head and took a sip of his beer, more to give himself a moment to think rather than anything else. "I can see why you would have a problem," he smiled, "But how does tonight figure in?"

"Most devastatingly," she smiled. "I've known for a couple of years that the other option is open to me. I can continue to work with Jennifer and the band the way I have done in recent years since it only takes a limited amount of time, and as I intimated the extra income is welcome. As long as I could delude myself that I was a studio musician at best, one who mostly played for herself, or perhaps for one or two people, and at most, for a handful of friends, I could maintain the status quo. Trey, after that audience tonight, I don't know that I can delude myself any longer."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Don't be," she said. "It would have been someone else had it not been you. As it was, Dr. Hamilton couldn't get too carried away. But Trey, that audience . . ." she shook her head. "Except for viewing Great Performances, no one there realized an inkling of the potential of the harp. To go out there and be received that well . . . do you remember the opening lines of American Pie?"

"You mean the part that goes, 'And I knew that if I had my chance, I could make those people dance, and maybe they'd be happy for a while?'"

"Yes, that's it, exactly what I'm thinking of. Trey, tonight I realized that I have the chance."

Trey took another sip of his beer. Oh, God, the poor woman, he thought. What do I say? An idea crossed his mind. "Have you ever discussed this with Jennifer and Blake?"

"Only obliquely," she replied. "I admit I know little about the music business, but I feel I could have a pair of excellent mentors if I were to but ask."

"Christmas break isn't far off," he said. "Maybe you should have a long talk with them."

"I expect to see them," she replied. "I plan on spending a few days with them before some other friends and I take off to Florida for a while. It might be a good chance to discuss it."

"I think it would be a good idea," he said. "And I'd point out that you don't have to jump in with both feet, at least right away. While the opportunity is lying there, it isn't one that you have to grab right this minute."

"I suppose," she said dubiously.

"In fact you'd be a damn fool to jump on it that hard while you're still paying off those student loan debts. Teaching leaves you a fallback position so to speak."

"It could be you're right," she shrugged. "It's just that tonight . . . Trey, can you imagine how egotistical it makes me feel to be that adulated? It's a fearsome feeling, and I can see that the potential for addiction could be enormous. Jennifer somehow has managed to avoid the addiction, although Jenny has it rather badly."

"Huh?" he said. "You lost me on that one."

"I don't know the whole story and doubt if I should be telling you in any case," she said. "But what I've picked up in bits and pieces is that Jennifer and Jenny are nearly separate personalities. Jennifer is quite shy, private, and businesslike. When she gets up on stage, she puts on the Jenny personality, and yes, Jenny loves the cheers of the crowd. But as I understand without it having been said in so many words, apparently when she was younger Jenny nearly drove Jennifer to a breakdown of some sort."

"I never knew that," he said.

"It's not likely you have," she replied. "As I said, I've never been told as much in so many words. But Jennifer Evachevski and Jenny Easton are two far different people. Most fans are only allowed to see Jenny, but really, they don't see her very often since Jennifer only lets Jenny out of her cage to work the crowds. I know this sounds strange, but when you get to know her, you can tell quite clearly who's who, if for no more reason than they often refer to each other in the third person. But, Jennifer usually runs things."

"That sounds a little nutty," he frowned.

"It is rather strange," she smiled. "I suppose that it's an accommodation that she had to make with herself to handle the stress. But I dare say, I cannot help but wonder if I'm not opening myself up for a double life where I'm Dr. Harris, the shy, unassuming, dykish, literature professor by day, and Myleigh, the babe with the jazzy blue harp who thrills audiences by night? I guarantee you, I had more than an inkling of it tonight."

"I don't know," he said. "I really have problems imagining it."

She shook her head. "Perhaps you should remember that you're talking to Myleigh tonight. Tomorrow you'll be listening to Dr. Harris again, and she wouldn't have had a discussion like this with you."

"OK," he sighed. "I guess I see what you mean. I still think you should talk with Jennifer, though."

"Oh, I shall. What's more, I shall have a long talk with Blake, who understands both Jennifer and Jenny better than I ever could. And, you are correct. It is not a decision that needs to be made tonight, or even over the holiday. It may, in fact, take some years."

"I'll be interested in how it comes out," he said.

They finished their beer and headed back up the street toward her apartment, talking gently, mostly about the show and the songs, not about Myleigh's fears and feelings. As they came to the steps to her apartment, they stopped, and the discussion continued for a moment. "Trey, thank you," she said. "I really appreciate your listening to my troubles and trying to understand them, even though I do not understand them myself. At least trying to explain them to you may have given me an insight or two, and I thank you for that."

"Sure thing," he smiled. "Feel free to ask any time you want to."

"Probably not again, at least not this semester," she said. "But it will be good to know that I could if I have to. But thank you again for listening and for the pizza."

"Look, Myleigh," he said, still feeling uncomfortable with using her first name. "Whatever happens, best of luck. You take care of yourself."

"You take care of yourself, too," she smiled. "See you in class, Mr. Hartwell," she said as she began to climb the stairs.

"Looking forward to it, Dr. Harris," he said as he watched her go.

Feeling a little confused, Trey began the walk back to his dorm. He crossed the street, and looked back toward her apartment, noticing as the light came on inside. As he stood there, a fantasy came to mind . . . but quickly imploded on itself. No, in fact, no way. She was easily the most talented, most intelligent, most awesome, most complex woman that he'd ever had the chance to spend time with. Too much woman for him for sure, perhaps too much woman for anyone. If any man ever did wind up with her, he'd have his hands full, and without even contemplating it, he knew that he didn't want to be the one to try. But still . . . what a woman.

"Good night, Dr. Harris," he whispered, so low only he could have heard it.



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