admire her for that now…
She arrived in San Francisco, California in July 1969. Just eighteen years old. She caught several rides until she made it to the campus at Berkeley. She walked into the admissions office and began her new life.
Things were hard for her. Scholarships covered her tuition and dorm room. She worked in the cafeteria on campus to help cover other expenses. She was alone—no friends, no family. She didn’t have time to engage in social life with the other students, which earned her the reputation of being stuck up. Being from a very religious family, she had never worn makeup. Her wardrobe consisted of skirts and blouses. She had never really had a haircut, to speak of, so her hair was well past her hips. But she was a natural beauty inside and out, with sandy blonde hair and pale hazel-green eyes. She really was beautiful. She turned down dates regularly, so most of the guys on campus assumed that she thought she was too good for them and called her a bitch. But she was too busy to care. She had scholarships that required an above-average GPA to keep. She was a born writer and was pursuing a degree in literature and creative writing with hopes of becoming a journalist. Maybe later in life, she would write her novel. She had it all planned. Then she met him, my father.
* * * * *
Professor Liam O’Brien. He was brilliant, and she was captivated. His lectures were passionate. He had a way of bringing politics and poetry together that made her burn for both. It was fascinating to hear him talk about the war in Vietnam. He reminded her of Shakespeare, causing feelings in her to rise that she didn’t know she had. He began to take notice of her after reading the papers she wrote on the war and the current state of the country. He frequented the cafeteria, smiling at her as she inquired on whether he wanted gravy on his mashed potatoes. His sparkling green eyes were made more intense by his strawberry blonde hair. Then one day, after she had finished her shift, he met her at the door of the cafeteria holding a single white rose and a proposal for coffee.
She fell in love quickly, and he was taken by her innocence, her intelligence. She was wonderfully naive. He stared at her as he lectured. She could feel her cheeks burn red under his intense gaze as butterflies churned in her stomach. He would meet her at the cafeteria door at the end of her shifts and take her for long drives through the scenic hills and valleys of Northern California. They would stop and gaze up at the stars, and she would tell him of her plans and dreams. He would stare at her longingly with those unusually green eyes. And she would feel a burning need for him. When he began to touch her, she did not stop him. She welcomed him, needed him. Being in his arms made her feel safe. She had never been kissed like he kissed her, never felt the wave of excitement over her body that came with his touch. Each time he would retreat and hold back, she would feel deeply disappointed that he had not continued his exploration.
One day, after she had finished her shift, he wasn’t at the door waiting. In a panic, she looked around the building and walked up and down the sidewalk searching for him. But he was not to be found. She decided to try his office. And that is where she found him. She entered the room more forcefully than she meant to, causing the door to bang hard against the wall behind it. Startled, he rose from his desk. “Miss Foster, what can I do for you?”
She couldn’t speak. She went to him, caressing his face in her hands. She kissed him hard, driven by the passion that she felt for him. He did not stop her, and she could not stop herself. Her clothes came off easily, she stood before his gaze, shy and embarrassed, naked. He arranged her long hair over her body, then stood back, observing what was before him. “Beautiful, you are so beautiful.”
At that moment, she felt beautiful. He made love to her there in his office. She held him until they fell asleep on his leather sofa. She woke to the first rays of the sunrise coming through the window. He looked like a golden god lying in her arms as the sun illuminated his fiery hair. She gently wiggled her way from beneath him and reached for her clothes. She felt his arms embrace her waist. Once again, his lips were warm against her body. She turned to face him, looking into his eyes. She felt no need to stop him, and again he made love to her.
My mother was floating on air. She arrived early for Professor O’Brien’s lecture, hoping to catch him alone. But he brushed her off. He did not make eye contact with her during his lecture as he had done before. The butterflies that she had once felt in her stomach had now been replaced by a feeling of dread. She waited outside his office, but he did not show. She searched for his car in the faculty parking lot. It was not there. She had no choice but to return to her dorm room. She lay on her bed and cried, asking herself repeatedly, “How could you be so stupid?”
Days turned into weeks. Professor O’Brien continued to avoid her. She felt physically sick. She couldn’t eat or drink. She began missing classes and turning assignments in late. She could not pull herself together. Finally, when she couldn’t take it any longer, she located his address in the phone book and called a cab. She arrived at his apartment building sometime after midnight. It had started to rain heavily. By the time she entered the hallway and stood before his door, she was soaked. She pounded on the door as hard as she could. She had made up her mind that she wasn’t leaving until he opened the door. But after fifteen minutes in the hallway, the only one who opened the door was the old woman down the hall.
“Quiet down, or I will call security!”
My mother slid down to the floor with her back resting against Professor O’Brien’s apartment door and cried herself to sleep.
She felt herself being lifted from the floor, opening her eyes to find Liam carrying her into his apartment. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his chest. Once inside, he began to remove her wet clothes. She consumed him with passionate kisses. She held on to him like he was life itself, fearing that if she let him go, he would disappear. He pulled her away, and she began to cry.
“You shouldn’t be here, Mary.”
“Please, Liam, please don’t make me go.”
He looked down at her. She was so young, so beautiful. He could not resist her. He kissed and groped her violently. He was hurting her. She didn’t care. She was lost in the need for him. Again, they came together and made love more passionately than before. This was the night I was conceived, and her life was forever changed.
My mother was now nineteen and pregnant, although she would not be aware of that for some weeks to come. She was sure that she and Liam would be together forever. Liam said that they would need to wait until finals were over before seeing each other again. She protested, and he insisted. In the end, she could see his logic and agreed to concentrate on her studies. Besides, she really did need to redeem her grades from the last couple of weeks. Classes would be breaking for the holidays, and she would be able to spend every day with Liam until they resumed. This would be the first time that she would not be spending the holidays with her family. But that didn’t matter—now she had Liam.
She couldn’t stop thinking about their new life together. Maybe her parents would forgive her and come to the wedding. Her dad could walk her down the aisle. Maybe she and Liam could get a little house together. She could finish her degree and take a local job. That way, she could be home every evening to make him dinner. She would take good care of him, and he would love her for it. She tried again to focus on her studies.
Finals’ week came and went. She didn’t feel very confident about how she did. But she was excited that now she could be with Liam. So while everyone else paced the hallways waiting for their final grades to be posted, my mother caught a cab to Liam’s.
She stood outside his apartment, once again knocking on the door, feeling more and more uneasy with each passing minute. Once again, a door opened, but it was not Liam’s door. It was the old woman. “He’s not home, young lady. He went out of town for the holiday,” she yelled.
