Too Soon Gone

By John L. Brown

Glenda Miller grew up in a rural background, the only child of austere parents. She wanted nothing more than escape to experience the delights of the world beyond.

Glenda saw escape in exploiting her innate brilliance. She blossomed into a star student at the University of Saskatchewan. A world famous biologist recognized her genius and set her on the road to potential scientific fame when he introduced her to a potential Nobel Prize candidate who invited her to join his lab at the University of British Columbia.

Glenda arrives at UBC with a husband in tow and the demanding life of a graduate student with the expected initial success. She is soon introduced to the temptations of a male and female lover and a diversity of exotic drugs. Glenda finds herself juggling a love quadrangle that forms the basis for lethal jealousy.

The distraction of her lovers and exotic substances replaces her scientific work sending her star into burnout. She faces the possibility of being turned out by a likely Nobel Prize winner. A once promising future hurtles into a void she my not escape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Nov 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490750392

John L. Brown

JOHN BROWN is Professor Emeritus, University of Alberta, his working home of twenty-six years as Professor, PhD program director and Associate Dean. Prior to that time he observed the academic world from the other side of the podium as a student at the University of Saskatchewan, University of Washington and Cornell. He also enjoyed international opportunities in Nairobi, Paris, London, Edinburgh and China to stretch his familiarity of the academic world beyond North America. His inside view of university life gives him ample opportunity to delve into the challenges a young and brilliant graduate student faces in the pressure cooker world of a demanding graduate program while juggling the many licit and illicit pleasures the fascinating city of Vancouver offers on a silver plate. Too Soon Gone is his fifth book since leaving the halls of academe and he now lives in Vancouver.

Book preview

First

G us wheeled his jeep into the parking lot, the left fender long gone and the right headlight saved from bouncing off the pavement by a strip of failing duct tape. He swung out of the jeep, patted the right fender and murmured over his shoulder, Hortense, me old gal, you desperately need a face lift. I wonder if there is any way to wheedle an advance on my first paycheck from the university. I’ll plead a family medical emerg ency.

Before heading into his office for day one in his new job as Chief of Campus Security, Gus stole a glance in the jeep’s side mirror to confirm he looked almost as good as he felt.

The thatch of reddish brown curls inclined the curious to guess his age below the date stamped on his passport confessing a chronological milepost of forty-nine. If interrogated by nosy questioners he claimed a felt age closer to thirty-nine. He thought his brand new olive green uniform an acceptable match to his rusty locks. Rusty was his hated nickname from a former life. It reminded him of a neighbour’s Irish Setter. Now he made sure everyone called him Gus. A smaller mouthful than Augustus, thanks to Angela his Italian mother. She said he should carry the name of the first emperor of Rome with pride. His father, Hamish, had campaigned for Wallace or Robert after equally renowned kings of his native Scotland. But as in all things domestic mother won and his birth certificate recorded Augustus Wallace Fraser. Nowadays, simply Gus Fraser.

Gus turned up the path at the same time as a young woman in her early twenties. Ever the gentleman Gus let her go ahead but stayed close enough to open the door of the Campus Security office. She thanked him and continued on to the counter beneath a large sign, Information. My name’s Glenda Miller. I’m new here and I’m lost. Could you please give me directions to the Graduate Faculty? A platinum blonde woman behind the counter, round in every way and everywhere, not unlike a well fed Dolly Parton, produced a map from under the counter, joined two buildings with a red line and drew a large circle at the end of the line and stabbed sharply in the center. Right there, she said. And better hurry, they close for lunch and it’s past 11:30.

Gus gave her a quick up and down as Glenda hurried past, thanking him on the way. His eyes followed her out for a customary quick assessment. His personal circuitry was hard wired to evaluate any female form that passed in view, especially in retreat. He guessed a typical student in backpack, blue jeans, stained running shoes and a blue work shirt flapping over a maternal set of hips and backside. A bit on the husky side he thought but a little less weight and a little more make-up could turn an almost forgettable face into a pleasant permanent memory. If she lost the wire rimmed glasses that too would help. As she turned the corner and disappeared Gus noted a determined and purposeful gait, kind of like someone herding cows into the barn for milking.

But enough fantasy fun for one day. Time to get on the job. He turned to introduce himself to the Information lady, who now sported a tiny smirk knowing full well where his mind had just wandered. Before he could get his mouth in gear she held out a chubby red palm and announced, Welcome, name’s Marley.

Is that a first or last name, Gus asked?

First, my father loved the Christmas Carol. The full handle is Marley O’Toole. and you’re Augustus Fraser. I don’t know how I offended the deity that I’m committed to share my work space with a carrot top Scot.

Hey, I have to share mine with a lippy Irish leprechaun. Maybe we can learn to share our burden. And we’ll get along a lot better if you remember the name is Gus. Now where do I hang my hat?

Try behind that door with the sign, Chief of Security, Marley jerked her head over her right shoulder at the corner door.

Thanks, Gus said, I see we’re going to get along real well. I already feel like I’ve been married to you all my life.

As he disappeared into the sanctuary called his office he heard Marley growl, Glad we have it settled who’s in charge around here.

Glenda found the Graduate Faculty at about 11:45 and made herself immediately unpopular with Shirley, the waif like girl at the front desk who had been carefully watching the hands of the wall clock creep too slowly to vertical. She had agreed to give the Spanish graduate student who registered yesterday a guided tour around campus, including her favorite secluded luncheon nook. A peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich was wedged into her handbag waiting for her to scurry out the door. Now a determined young woman blocked her getaway and threatened to derail the romantic dream she had conjured all morning.

Glenda held out a hand, introduced herself and asked what she had to do to become a registered doctoral student, and could she get information on inexpensive places to live.

Shirley’s spirits jumped back to euphoric as she saw her escape. She smiled sweetly at Glenda and crammed a sheaf of papers into her hands, including the official listing of accommodation from the housing office. As she rose from her chair and walked around the counter she told Glenda to fill out the forms and leave them on her desk. Shirley knew she should have stayed in case Glenda had questions but she was determined to make her luncheon assignation. That had become a favorite word of hers ever since she read it in a Harlequin novel.

Shirley needn’t have worried. Glenda rapidly filled in the forms and what she didn’t know she guessed, or made up. Her interest lay more in meeting her husband Harold at the Student Union cafeteria. Glenda needed to escape from their seedy motel right now.

Although cheap it cost more than Glenda wanted to pay and who knows what dreaded bugs invaded the bathroom or threatened to attack from the depths of the mattress.

Two weeks of tranquility remained before the start of term and the cafeteria slumbered in the swelter of a summer day. The staff too slumbered, well more like slept standing up.

They reminded Glenda of the horses on her parent’s farm, up on all fours but dead to the world. She found a self-serve salad bar, which allowed her to fill a plate with a mix of lettuce, radishes, carrots, tomatoes, green onion, red pepper and a healthy dollop of guacamole without disruption to any of the staff. An extra large glass of whole milk and an all-grain bagel completed her lunch fare. As a toddler she never missed milking time when her father would shoot a stream of milk direct from the cow’s teat into her open mouth. No matter the nutrionist’s admonitions, she could never stomach the idea, never mind the thin blandness of skim milk.

Harold welcomed Glenda to the table with a cheek kiss and helped remove her backpack.

A few ketchup drenched french fries testified to his usual lunch of a burger, fries and super size coke. There was enough ice and coke left to slurp on while Glenda picked at her plate of greenery. She envied Harold’s lunch but had resolved a few new beginnings as she moved on from her rural roots near the town of Grande, Saskatchewan to Vancouver and a Ph D program at UBC.

Harold apologized for starting and finishing before Glenda came but pleaded uncertainty of her arrival time. Apologizing came easy to Harold. He had a lot of practice. But he didn’t mind. Being married to Glenda had too many advantages. She had removed the encumbrance of an independent life. No longer did he have to worry about major decisions, or if his socks matched. An added bonus was not long after Glenda came into his life he no longer had to make up hard to swallow stories to convince his male friends that he had lost his virginity.

One might have thought that a guy born and raised in the larger centre of Saskatoon would have an advantage over a farm girl from a small town. But at all times and in almost all things outside the world of computers, Glenda had the answer.

Harold first heard Glenda’s panic stricken voice while he sat on one end of the phone line at the University Computing Centre’s Help Desk and Glenda pleaded to be rescued from a frozen computer. If someone did not rush to her aid she could not finish a paper on time and a more miserable than usual professor, on the verge of retirement, might give her a low enough grade to jeopardize the prestige of a straight A average. Harold knew his job didn’t include home visitations but he couldn’t ignore the wail of distress pealing down the phone line. The repair was easy and because Glenda had to finish her paper Harold took an early departure, but only after accepting an invitation to dinner the next night. A few more dinners that ended in sleep overs and Glenda and Harold agreed to reduce their accommodation and food expenses by a life together.

Harold may not have been the Prince Charming of her dreams if she had the choice of her dreams but who ever does. His thinning sandy hair crowned an almost six foot frame and even the most generous scale refused to fess up to more than 150 pounds, even on humid days. An unexpected bonus turned up when he and Glenda found they could share the same owlish, wire rimmed glasses. And a less mentionable advantage is he proved to be teachable and ready on call for bedroom gymnastics. But above all he had agreed to marriage and saved her from a return to a waiting teaching job in her hometown.

Her Fundamentalist father would never force her to leave her husband behind in the city while she moved back to the farm. And she had fully briefed Harold to never give in to her father on that score.

Glenda ate quickly and in silence while Harold made ticks on the housing list. About half the salad seemed enough and she pushed the rest aside to spread out a map of Vancouver.

She relieved Harold of the list, noting he must have been making random ticks since none fit her criteria for price and location. She marked her choices with an X and stood up to start the search for their new home. She wanted to be settled in by tomorrow so she could check in with her Ph D mentor, the maybe Nobel laureate, Professor Charles Holmes. Harold fell in behind, relieved that he could never be accused of the mistake of picking the wrong place to live.

Second

G lenda sighted the bright morning sun through the bare bedroom window, her left eye first and slowly her right. The queen bed left barely enough room for a single wooden kitchen chair in one corner, now hidden by jeans and tee shirts and an upside down wooden box covered with a red checked table cloth, probably stolen from an Italian restaurant, that supported a cracked, fake Tiffany lamp. The white sheet that draped the wall opposite the bed covered a recess that served as a clothes closet. Glenda pushed back the bed covers and navigated through the boxes that littered the floor to find the bathroom for her first shower in their new home. The bathroom was next to the bedroom and she wondered if they could cut a door in the wall so she could walk directly from bed to toilet and shower. Something she might suggest to Harold if it looked like he had spare time on his hands. Although bitter experience reminded her it would be easier, quicker and more likely to happen if she wielded the hammer and saw he rself.

She stepped out of the shower and toweled herself off while she toured the two other rooms in their newly acquired furnished apartment. What little furniture they once owned had been left behind, turned over to the Salvation Army for donation or disposal.

The sitting room included a sofa, newly covered in a pattern of pink roses on a cream background. A coffee stain on one cushion made Glenda suspicious of how recently it had been recovered. A matching chair and foot stool, plus a cracked leather chair and two pole lamps completed the furniture.

By the time Glenda arrived at the kitchen Harold had moved from bed to table and sat with coffee and a bowl of muesli. Harold had found a tee shirt and pair of jogging shorts for his morning attire. Glenda sat down as she had left the shower. The two had developed a casual at home attitude to share each other’s company in varying stages of dress, or undress as the mood took them. A table and three wooden chairs occupied centre stage in the kitchen. The fourth now functioned as a coat rack in the bedroom. At least the owner had provided almost new, second hand appliances of stove, fridge and even a dishwasher.

A search of the drawers and cupboards revealed a place setting of four plates, cups, glasses and cutlery. Also enough pots and pans that Glenda and Harold could continue cooking their frugal home dinners. To Glenda’s delight Harold had taken on more of that workload. She valued the extra time for her research.

Glenda gave the muesli box a vigorous shake over a bowl and leaned across the table to grab the milk carton in front of Harold. Her right breast hung suspended over the table close enough for Harold to tweak her nipple. Ouch, that hurt, she yelped and rapped his knuckles with her spoon.

Serves you right for tantalizing me at this time of day. Want to help me make the bed?

Remind me tonight. I have to check in with the great Professor Charles Holmes this morning. You’ll have enough to do emptying those boxes and filling the fridge. And when it comes to the beer ration remember, we drink local and cheap, leave the foreign stuff on the shelf.

Yeah, sure, I know the routine. You driving or riding today?

Riding, it will help my war on fat and eliminate the grief of finding a parking spot on campus. Besides, you’ll need the car to schlep home the groceries.

Glenda and Harold call themselves a two vehicle family. One, a mountain bike they had bought on sale at Canadian Tire, mostly paid for with Canadian Tire dollars. The second, a twenty year old BMW 2002 Harold inherited from his lawyer brother after he made partner and moved up in the auto world to a racy M5. Despite his Beemer’s vintage he still feels cool behind the wheel with windows down and fingers rapping on the roof in time to the music. He especially likes the red color of the car, although Glenda says two tone, rust and red. Harold ignores that comment because he plans to do something about the rust. One day.

Third

O live Hanratty heard the outer office door click open and in a short second, thump shut. The click-thump announced the arrival of University Research Professor Charles Holmes. She glanced at the atomic clock over the fireplace mantle, last year’s graduate student birthday gift, and muttered, two minutes early, darn, I’m not quite ready for him.

Olive hated being rushed but wanted everything just so, when the Professor stepped into his fiefdom. She positioned the pot of French press coffee in the upper right corner of the teak coffee table and arranged two of her home made, apricot and pecan muffins on a white Limoges dessert plate. One of her own that she had donated several year ago. After all, the Professor should have plates appropriate to his station. She quickly unfolded today’s edition of the Financial Times and spread it out in the center of the coffee table. Holmes had acquired the habit while on sabbatical at Cambridge. Tomorrow it’s the Wall Street Journal for variety. His interest in the world of business has grown with his reputation and the awards he received to finance a growing stock portfolio.

Just as Olive finished smoothing the paper she heard behind her, Morning Olive, the usual? Fresh muffins.

Yes, Professor Holmes, I hope you enjoy them.

Always do but too bad only two. I’d love one right now while I check what’s up and what’s down in my portfolio. But I really need something to offer my new grad student who’ll be here in a half hour.

No problem Professor, I have another in my desk that I don’t really need. I saw a dress on sale that I’d like but I need to drop down one size.

Glad to help out Olive. You can bring the muffin in with more coffee when she arrives. Her name is Glenda Miller.

Glenda Miller. How is your wife, has she beaten back the flu?

I guess so but it’s hard to tell with Peggy, she always has some ailment. I can never keep up.

And the children’s school?

Donnie excels at underachievement. I hope he gets his finger out soon or he’ll be off to some second level state school. No one in the Ivy League would look at him with his current record. Marnie has been offered a tennis scholarship at a major U.S. state school. That will get her a degree at no cost to me but she’ll likely end up as a club pro since she doesn’t have the strength of character to survive on the tour. But she kicks my ass easily and has for some time.

Well, I’m sure it’s nice to have a loving family even if they do bring challenges to your life. I’ll give you some time with your paper before that Miller girl arrives.

Holmes flips open his newspaper while he tears off a chunk of muffin and crams it into his mouth. Over a mouthful of muffin he growls, Shit for brains broker, that mining stock he put me into has gone backwards.

Holmes flips through his paper, making occasional notes. When he turns over the last page he bundles up the paper and drops it into a wastebasket made from an elephant’s foot. He found it in a taxidermist’s shop on a trip to Kenya. Peggy called it gross and insulting, which left Holmes no option but to buy the offensive memento. The more others shared his wife’s opinion the more Holmes swore to keep it. Even Olive gave The Foot a wide berth when she passed by.

Holmes picked up the phone on his desk and dialed. Hey Barney. Yeah, it’s me. No, I’m not having a good day and it’s all your fault. Spot on Barney, what the fuck is up with that mining stock. You said it was safer than government bonds. Even a naïve scientist like me knows government bonds don’t drop thirty per cent in a day. You say the latest assay report was worse than expected but you have inside information the next one will be so good the stock will double over night. Well if that doesn’t happen by tomorrow sell the fucking loser and then you can buy me lunch to explain how you’re going to make up my loss. Yeah, you have a good day too Barney.

A gentle knock announces Glenda, wearing her new dress. The first time she has appeared in other than blue jeans and some sort of tee shirt since she waved good-bye to her mother. The dress was a gift from her mother. She told Glenda that it would come in handy one day. This felt like the day. Her mother had tried to make a multi-purpose selection since she knew Glenda wouldn’t look for many occasions to wear it. This particular number was blue cotton decorated with white daisies across the chest. Glenda had found a pair of white ballet slippers to complete the outfit.

Olive ushered Glenda into the presence of the great man. Miss Glenda Miller as you expected Professor Holmes. I’ll bring in the coffee and muffins.

Holmes remained seated and waved for Glenda to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the coffee table where Olive placed the coffee and muffins. Glenda preferred tea to coffee and she could have passed on the muffins since they were no longer on her allowable eats list. She thanked Holmes anyway and loaded her cup with milk and sugar to hide the bitter coffee taste.

Holmes took his coffee unadulterated from any foreign substance except to dip bits of muffin in the cup. Between slurps and munches he started to quiz Glenda about her health, recent comings and goings and if she had settled in yet. He finished the grilling with, So over to you young lady, what have you been doing since I attended your presentation at the annual meeting in New York. I hope pursuing vigorously that line of research you have embarked upon.

Glenda still couldn’t get over where she sat and who with, given her starting point.

Fourth

You were supposed to be Glen Michael but when you came into the world we noticed that you lacked some necessary bits and pieces to legitimate a boy’s name. So your father said we had no other choice than to christen you Glenda Michelle. That is what my mother told me at the age of three when I asked her about the source of my names. At the time she was trying to teach me how to peel potatoes without taking too thick a slice of peel. My father was determined that his first born would be a boy to proudly wear the name of his elder brother, Glen Michael who died on the beaches of Normandy, his body never recovered. For the longest time I felt it was my fault that my father had been denied his greatest wish. Every night thereafter I changed my prayers to:

"Now I lay me down to sleep.

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

And if I should die before I wake

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

But if I do not die before I wake

I pray the Lord a boy he makes."

It never worked and after awhile I gave up and began to question a generous and all caring God. Of course at the time I didn’t know what becoming a boy meant. When I did learn I was so astonished and disgusted that I thanked the Lord for ignoring my prayers and thought maybe my doubt was misplaced. I had learned by then that most boys were a pushover on anything that mattered.

Father expected potatoes every night for dinner and he insisted on mashed with gravy and no one else could transform them into a gooey mess than him. He liked to march around the kitchen in a great clatter, the metal masher ringing against the side of the iron pot. When he had everyone’s attention and thank yous it was time to be seated, three heads bowed as Father thanked the Lord for everything he could think of and slipped in a few requests of his own on what he wanted improved in the world, the government, the weather and his own state of grace.

Dinner always consisted of the ever present potatoes and gravy, meat, fried or roasted, usually off a cow, but sometimes pork or chicken, never fish or lamb. Vegetables provided the only real variety, always from the garden according to season and in the winter whatever was available in the root cellar. That meant mostly carrots, cabbage and turnip. Father preferred turnips or neaps as he called them according to his Scottish heritage. For him nothing beat well done roast beef and nappies. The meat also came from the farm. Father did not believe in enriching the local merchants anymore than absolutely necessary. In his opinion anyone engaged in commerce operated on the edge of the law and usually on the wrong side. He always said he’d vote for any party that introduced a usury law. Dessert was a rare event, most often a wedge of homemade cheddar made at the same time as the butter, unless there was home grown fruit available. The one exception being Sunday when Mother was allowed to make a pie, one of her favorite recreations. Much more than making bread but that could not be avoided with a store bought loaf.

Dinner was eaten in silence except for requests to pass something. Father saw little need to tarry over a basic fueling activity. After dinner Mother washed and Glenda dried. The division of labour was decided by height, Glenda couldn’t yet reach the sink without a stool and Mother thought standing on one too dangerous. Father settled in his chair with a pipe, which he considered a minor vice, and searched the bible for the evening’s reading. Nearly always it came from the Old Testament with a strong preference for heroic tales like those of Noah navigating the Flood, Jonah fighting to stay afloat in the belly of a whale and Joshua trumpeting down the walls of Jericho. On the days the world failed to meet Father’s expectations he sought solace in a reading from the trials of Job.

When Father finished the reading that signaled bedtime for Glenda. She gave her father a kiss on the cheek and in return he patted her softly on the head. It was Mother’s job to see Glenda was properly washed and night gowned with her prayers said before turning out the light and always the exchange of a good night kiss.

Father and Mother spent the shank end of the evening exchanging the day’s accomplishments, doing necessary bookwork and turning on the radio to hear the news and next day’s weather forecast. That was all Father said the radio should be used for except the mid-day farm report, listened to during lunch. According to Father the radio was a tool meant to contribute to knowledge and farm management. Not a source of trivial entertainment.

Upon arrival of the Sabbath the family followed biblical prescriptions. The morning at church and the afternoon studying the bible or other religious works. Only during harvest did Father allow an exception. He said that since God made the weather he would not mind if we took advantage of the good days he loaned us to bring in the