Joseph Wambaugh - Echoes in the Darkness

Susan Reinert made several calls to the dorm that summer and Chris Pappas received them. Bill Bradfield told Chris that he’d made a horrible mistake by offering advice to the troubled woman during the last school year, and now she wouldn’t leave him alone. The weekend after Chris took the first call from Susan Reinert, Bill Bradfield made a sudden overnight trip to Baltimore.

And on a balmy summer evening Bill Bradfield felt he had to explain Rachel in light of his views on chastity and celibacy. He confessed to Chris that no matter how much he believed in obedience to Gods law, he could not himself obey at all times.

On that occasion he said, “Because of a weakness in my character, I have an itch and I know that no matter how resolute I try to be, that itch will eventually need scratching. That’s why I’ve never formally converted to Catholicism. But I pray that one day I’ll be a better man.”

About little Shelly, he informed Chris that he’d decided to “send” her to a Catholic college in California. He was very pleased that she was going to convert to Catholicism. He hoped she’d go on to an advanced degree at some Catholic university.

That summer, Bill Bradfield also confessed to Chris Pappas that his life had not turned out as he’d dreamed it in this, his forty-fifth year. He hinted to the young man that perhaps one day he would marry Shelly when she was finished with her education, and that he could then develop the character and lifestyle he’d always wanted and couldn’t manage thus far.

Bill Bradfield told Chris Pappas that he looked upon him as a younger brother, not just a friend, and that he was confessing things that he’d told no other. He swore that he would not be physically intimate with Shelly and that he did love the girl whom he saw as something good and real in his life. His relationship with her had inspired him to want to finish a poem he’d begun ten years earlier. It was called “Bloodroot.”

It seemed that “Bloodroot” had to do with Maria, a girl he’d once loved in Baltimore. One day when he went to visit her, Maria’s parents gave him the terrible news that she’d died suddenly. He had begun the poem in memory of their love, but could never finish it. Now that he’d found this young and fresh and unsullied girl to remind him of the purity of Maria, he was determined to complete the poem.

Bloodroot, the lovely white poppy that grows wild in Pennsylvania, is so vulnerable that it dies at the mere touch of a human being, according to folklore. Apparently, he was implying that he would never “touch” Shelly in that sense.

During the summer Bill Bradfield and Chris had occasion to spend two days on a rented sailboat with two visitors, Jenny and Shelly. Chris Pappas overheard Bill Bradfield telling Shelly about the “Bloodroot” inspiration, and at first Chris thought he must be mistaken. This time Bill Bradfield said that Maria had been in an iron lung and he told how he had held her hand as she expired. And before his relationship with Bill Bradfield had gone much further, Chris heard it yet a third time, with a different ending.

It was the same when Bill Bradfield told him of traveling to Cuba at the behest of the Central Intelligence Agency. In Chris’s version, Bill Bradfield was ordered to count ships for the CIA. During that mission he was forced to creep up and kill a Cuban guard during an intelligence-gathering mission. He killed the Cuban with a knife.

So Chris got a knife killing and Vince Valaitis a garroting. Sue Myers secretly did not believe that he’d even been there at all. She heard that Fran Bradfield had accused Bill of running off to New Orleans for two weeks with Tom, their homosexual lodger. And Sue wondered if it was in a New Orleans brothel that he’d “resisted” all those hussies.

Bill Bradfield once said something about Shelly that Chris Pappas would never forget.

“That girl is my ticket to heaven ,” he said.

Chris Pappas also spent considerable time that summer hearing that Susan Reinert was the “second-worst teacher at Upper Merion.” He was never sure who was number one.

“I don’t know why she bothers me like this,” Bill Bradfield told Chris. “I’m just a casual friend. I wish she’d find somebody else for advice and money loans. Sure, I pity her, the poor neurotic creature, but it’s too much being her friend!”

During the middle of August, Bill Bradfield received a letter from Susan Reinert at St. John’s. As was his custom, he couldn’t bear to part with it and so tried to hide it away when he got home, but as was her custom Sue Myers dug in every nook until she found evidence that he’d been juggling Rachel and Susan Reinert and even little Shelly.

The letter was postmarked August 13, 1978.

Sunday morning

Dear Bill,

Hi honey. I have been uncomfortable since yesterday’s phone call, so this is an attempt to straighten it out. First, you said some very nice things. Thank you. My missing you is what I’m most aware of. It’s awful. That was why I called you Friday night. Chris was very congenial on the phone, although I’m sure he was wondering why I would be calling you.

He did say you’ve been working very hard on your papers, but he said a couple of things that made me wonder if you’d been seeing Rachel. When I admitted jealousy yesterday you said it was good. I assume you meant it was good that I care. I HATE it, a waste of time and energy. So do I have any reason to be jealous? If I do, I might as well know. I don’t mind that she’s typing your paper if she wants to. It’s nice that she could help.

Karen and Michael had a great time while I was visiting you. Everyone was complimentary about what a pleasure they were. That really made me feel good. I’m glad I went. I also got to know Rachel better.

Glad you went to a party. We have a tendency to give fun the lowest priority. Hope that, overall, the summer has been worth the agony.

I know you miss me, but I fear that in your loneliness you might turn to someone else who’s there. I’ve never understood the dynamics of our relationship anyhow. When I went to Pat’s to pick up Karen and Michael I discovered that Sue Myers had shown some people a very nasty reaction at the mention of my name. I wish Sue would leave Upper Merion or that you would finally leave her. I don’t know what I can do. I do not want to go back to that same scene. This summer has been great without it, which explains my present mood. But I still have lots of feelings and worries I don’t like. I’d like to talk to you.

Am taking Karen and Michael to a baseball game with Parents Without Partners, so must close. Write or call. Thanks for the previous calls. They help. I love you.

Sus

From everything Roslyn Weinberger was told, Susan Reinert’s sexual needs were about normal for a single woman of thirty-six years with a proper upbringing.

“She was interested in sex,” the therapist said, “but only when she was emotionally involved with the person. I could never picture her going to a singles bar to pick someone up.”

To Pat Schnure, who would probably become Susan Reinert’s best friend, she confessed that the only thing she had learned sexually from Bill Bradfield was that physical sex could be acceptable during menstruation. There was never an indication from Susan Reinert or any other woman that Bill Bradfield was some sort of stud. Rather, there were indications he was more of a snuggler and cuddler than a sexual athlete.

It was also his custom to tell each of his close friends about his former friend Tom, the gay lodger in his first “common-law” marriage. He always assured his pals that he’d never succumbed to gay overtures, but, clearly, Tom meant something in his life.