I was very close to a Quaker family known as the Clarks.  Many times during my childhood, Polly and Allen had taken me under their wing during times of trouble.  Polly realized I was a good kid underneath my sad, moody nature.  Polly wished she could have found a way to take me off my mother's hands, but there was no graceful way to do so.  Allen agreed with her.  So they offered to take me on summer trips.  Oh, how I looked forward to those trips!  Over time I became a part of their family.  For that reason, when I was thrown out of graduate school, I asked if I could stay with them for a week or two while I tried to recover from the worst failure of my life.  They were very kind to say yes.  As it turned out, I stayed throughout June.  Thankfully, they did not seem to mind.

Allen and Polly were saints.  Not once in that entire month did they say a harsh word.  Not once.  Here was this miserable blob who laid on their living room couch for hours on end.  I barely spoke, I barely interacted, I showed little sign of mental activity, I displayed no signs of leaving.  Surely they wondered if there was any hope for me.  However they never said a word.  They simply let me be.  No doubt there was a precise clinical description for my condition, but let's keep it simple.  I was much worse than 'walking wounded', so let's refer to my condition as 'barely moving' or 'semi-catatonic'.  That speaks volumes for Allen and Polly.  Who lets a disturbed mental patient stay in their home for an entire month without any end in sight?  Their patience was incredible.

The only time I showed signs of life was in the early evening.  The Clarks lived next door to the Jewish Community Center.  After spending the entire day on the couch feeling sorry for myself, one night it crossed my mind that maybe the JCC had a gym.  I had never been there before, so why not take a look?  Using Allen's membership card, I was thrilled to find a pickup basketball game. 

It was such a relief, I returned the following night.  This time I was keenly disappointed to find there was no basketball.  Apparently the gym was reserved on Thursday for men's volleyball.  I was really upset.  Playing basketball was going to be the highlight of my day.  I fumed as I watched a bunch of old Jewish men play volleyball.  Didn't these old guys know volleyball was a girl's sport?  Despite my contempt, I watched for lack of anything better to do.  One of the players, a man named Buddy, 60, noticed me standing there.  He came over and invited me to join them.  Buddy said they had an opening for an extra player, but I hesitated.  Volleyball might be a big sport out in California, but not in Texas.  Here in this football-crazed state, volleyball was seen as a game for sissies.  However, anything beat returning to my lonely couch, so I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Sure, why not?"  I went out and asked what the rules were. 

Since very few guys my age played volleyball back in the Seventies, I was the youngest person by a wide margin.  Considering the age range was 45-75, I was young enough to be their son.  Although I lacked skill, my quick reactions and jumping ability allowed me to contribute.  Seeing how frustrated some of the men were at their age-related inability to make plays that had once been automatic, I made sure to show respect.  I think the men appreciated that I stayed modest.  Rather than resent my youth, the men were very nice to me and showed me how to improve.  When the night was over, Buddy and several others encouraged me to come back.  I could tell their warmth was genuine.  Still reeling from Fujimoto's dismissal, their warmth came as a much-needed tonic for a beaten down kid like me.  So I returned on Sunday morning for the next scheduled event.  My second visit was just as special.  The men were pleased to see me and welcomed me back.  The power of their kindness was amazing.  That was all it took to get me hooked on volleyball. 

These older men became the foundation of my deep respect for the Jewish people.  They acted as role models with their sportsmanship and camaraderie.  I also liked their sarcasm and the way they teased each other.  It did not hurt that a couple of them treated me like a son.  Since I never had much of a father, I loved every second of my time spent with these older men. 

My favorite player was Buddy, the most active 60 year old I had ever met.  Buddy hustled for every ball.  He also complimented me a lot, even when I was on the other team.  Every time I made a clever play such as looking one way, then dropping the ball in another direction to an uncovered area, Buddy would exclaim, "There you go, Rick, that's using your tuckus!" 

I knew this phrase was Buddy's way of saying I had made a head's up play, but what the heck is a 'tuckus'?  One day I asked someone what a 'tuckus' was.  The man grinned and said it was my butt.  My butt?  Good grief.  In all the time I played volleyball there, I never quite figured out how using my butt made me smarter.  Maybe I had to be Jewish to understand.

I enjoyed playing with these men so much, when I moved to my apartment in July, I bought a membership at the JCC so I could continue to see them.  Alternating between volleyball and basketball, I played one sport or the other six times out of seven.  I would have been there on Friday too, but the JCC was closed in the evening for religious reasons.  I really liked volleyball.  I played pick-up volleyball on Tuesday and Thursday and I joined the volleyball league on Sunday morning.  Due to my height, I was a spiker.  Pounding the volleyball was exactly the kind of cathartic experience I needed.  I loved to crush that ball.  I thought of Vanessa every time I smashed it.

It was Thursday night in early November at the Jewish Community Center.  When I walked in I was astonished to see a stunning woman warming up on the volleyball court.  My heart stopped.  What on earth is a girl my age doing here?  In five months, not one woman had ever joined us. 

Ever since the weird events that surrounded the Dance Class from Hell, I had become more superstitious than ever before.  For example, the situation with Gloria had put me on instant Supernatural Alert.  Now the same thing happened again.  The moment I saw Rachel, five alarm bells began ringing.  I was scared to death because Rachel represented the Ideal Woman I hoped to pursue someday.  The key word is 'Someday'.  In the fearful muddled state I was in, I had no business tackling a woman of Rachel's magnitude.  However, my intuition warned me I probably had no choice in the matter.  There is no other way to describe it.  I knew I was in trouble the moment I saw Rachel.  My intuition would prove correct.  It was Rachel's job to tie me to a tree and torture me for my own good.  And so she did. 

As I stood there gaping at her beauty, Rachel noticed me.  To my surprise, she walked over to introduce herself.  I was stunned.  Rachel had totally bypassed my fear of rejection by making the first move.  Rachel reminded me of the time Vanessa had stopped me in the hallway of the Psychology Department one year ago.  Although I was bewildered, I was grateful Rachel had initiated the conversation.  Otherwise in my condition I would have never made a move with a woman as beautiful as her.  What a woman!  I was in love the moment I saw Rachel.

Previously I had pegged my odds at one in a million that a woman comparable to an SJS girl would take an interest in me.  Now such a woman had shown interest me.  Although I was flabbergasted a woman of Rachel's caliber would approach, I tried not to let it show.  I assumed Rachel had greeted me in such a friendly way because I was the only person her age.

Rachel was tall, 5' 10".  Given where we met, I assumed she was Jewish.  She definitely had the look.  Rachel had long, dark brown hair tied back in a pony tail.  And what a figure!  Rachel was built along the hourglass dimensions of a Playboy Centerfold.  Noting that Rachel moved like a jaguar, she seemed unusually athletic.  Another thing that struck me was her poise.  Rachel had a regal, dignified air about her.  This woman could rule the world.  She was a true princess.  Standing before me was a clone of a St. John's classmate if there ever was one.

Rachel struck me as sophisticated and highly intelligent.  This young woman was both dream girl and worst nightmare.  I felt totally intimidated.  The last time I had pursued a woman of Rachel's caliber was Vanessa.  Need I say more?  And the strange thing is that Rachel had approached me the exact same way as Vanessa, direct, friendly, confident.  With a nod to irony, maybe I should hum the tune to 'Exodus' and see where it gets me. 

I had no business pursuing a woman like Rachel, but at least I could be polite.  Hiding my insecurity as best I could, I asked Rachel what she was doing here.  Rachel replied she liked to play volleyball and wanted to join us tonight.  I frowned.  There was something unusual going on here.  No woman had ever asked to play with us.  For that matter I had never seen a woman down here period.  Sure enough, the band began warming up the Twilight Zone theme.

I wondered what the older men would say.  The official title of the evening was 'Men's Recreational Volleyball'.  By definition, that excluded Rachel because she was a girl.  Or maybe not.  Rachel was not a girl, she was a Goddess.  Rachel was Athena, Artemis and Aphrodite rolled into one.  Rachel was living proof that volleyball was the sport of choice on Mount Olympus.  Maybe the men would recognize her Wonder Woman status and offer to exempt her.

Even though Rachel was so far out of my league it was ridiculous, by an odd coincidence... a VERY odd coincidence... she had met me at the only place on earth where I shined.  Although I had only been playing volleyball for five months, I had become the star player.  Playing with older men, I was the only guy who could jump.  In addition, I had quite an advantage since volleyball rewarded height.  These days, I was used to being the center of attention.  Whoever had me on their team usually won.  Furthermore, since I was careful to show respect, the older men didn't seem to mind my star status.  Consequently, I was greeted warmly by everyone as Rachel and I warmed up.  Rachel took note of my special standing and smiled. 

I was in a very weird mood.  The fact that Rachel had made the first move reminded me far too much of Vanessa, a woman whose beauty and intelligence placed her on equal footing with the Volleyball Goddess.  Upset by the obvious déjà vu vibes, my anxiety was off the charts.  Given that Vanessa had ruined my life, I was beyond paranoid with fear that Rachel was the latest manifestation of my Epic Losing Streak.  And since I felt like I had no control in the matter, I began to tremble.  What will go wrong this time?

As I guessed, the older men had no idea what to do with Rachel.  If the decision had been mine, I would have told Rachel that she was more than welcome to participate.  However, since I was young and new to the group, when it came to decisions, I had no authority.  Rachel's fate was the call of the veteran players.  I had mixed feelings as six men moved to the side to discuss the problem.  I sidled up to them and listened with keen interest.  Half of me wanted the men to send Rachel packing, thereby sparing me whatever misery Fate had in mind.  My other half was curious to see how my latest Cosmic challenge would play out.  I suppose deep down I wanted her to stay, so my heart plummeted when two men grumbled loudly that this girl had no business being here.  I winced when Rachel appeared to overhear them.  I glanced at her, but she didn't react.  Hmm.  Rachel had to have heard, but chose to ignore the argument.  The two grouches complained her presence was against the rules.  If they let her play, then no doubt a bunch of other women were sure to notice and join too.  This made me snicker because there was hardly a legion of women clamoring to play.  Thank goodness Buddy took over.  Since Buddy was a born leader, his word commanded a lot of respect.  Buddy took one look at Rachel and whistled in appreciation. 

"What is wrong with you alter kockers?  Are you men out of your minds?  Have you taken a good look at that woman?  Maybe you old farts should get your glasses checked.  I don't know about you, but I would pay money just to stand next to her and gaze.  Maybe she will bump into me and give an old man a thrill."

The two grouches turned red at being teased by Buddy while the three undecided men chuckled.  The grouches lost the argument 4-2 and they weren't happy about it.  As for me, I had the sense to stay out of it, but I agreed with Buddy.  I would do anything to have this beauty bump into me too.  I longed for the chance to see Rachel in action.  I had a hunch she was pretty good. 

The two grouches grumbled that having a girl on their team was an enormous disadvantage.  So they stuck Rachel on my team since I was the best player.  In their opinion, having Rachel on my side would seriously handicap me.  I smiled.  Having Rachel next to me was the kind of handicap I would accept any day of the week.  However, I wasn't happy when they sent the four weakest players over to my side of the net.  I had not anticipated this.  Using craft and cunning born of age, the masterminds had pitted the best six players against two youngsters and whoever was left. 

So they decided to stack the sides, eh?  Team Grouch versus the Kid, the Babe, and the Afterthoughts.  Clearly they were determined to put Rachel in her place.  This could be interesting.  Rachel was hiding something, I was sure of it.  I was right.  Rachel turned out to be better than every man on the court, me included.  Rachel was a sight to behold.  I had never seen a female athlete like her up close.  Although the other four men on our team weren't very good, it didn't matter.  What we did was similar to beach volleyball where there are two players instead of six. 

Between the two of us, we touched 90% of the volleys and kept them in play.  Not only could Rachel set the ball to perfection, she could spike the ball as well.  I marveled at her leaping ability.  Until now, I had no idea a woman could spike on a man's net, much less hit a volleyball that hard.   Rachel timed every leap perfectly and smashed the ball every bit as hard as me.  We quickly learned to work together.  Rachel set me, I hit a rocket.  I set Rachel, she hit a rocket.  The old guys never knew what hit them.

Watching Rachel serve was another treat.  At one point she reeled off 5 points in a row with her bullet overhand serve.  Team Grouch was lucky just to get a hand on the ball.  However, when the score reached 10-0, Rachel did something odd.  First she sent her next serve out of bounds.  Then she flubbed an easy play.  Point to Team Grouch.  When I stared at her quizzically, Rachel winked.  She was letting the other team save face.  A couple plays later I decided to flub a ball as well.  The final score was 15-2.  So much for Dream Team Grouch.  They were so shocked, it took every ounce of my self-control not to laugh at their contorted expressions.  These guys were old school.  They had no idea a woman athlete could be this good.  Actually, I didn't think so either, but I was open to the possibility.  Rachel had taught us a lesson. 

Buddy was the only man on Team Grouch who took the crushing defeat with dignity.  He came over and congratulated me on the big victory, then looked around for Rachel.  She was gone at the moment.  After the victory, she had turned her back and walked to the farthest corner of the gym to drink water.  I had a hunch she left deliberately to avoid rubbing it in.  Interesting.  The girl knew politics.

While Rachel was gone, I listened to the men bitch and moan.  I grinned when I heard the chauvinists complain that the teams weren't fair.  No kidding.  What was their first clue?  Curious to know what moves they would make, I was not surprised when Team Grouch demanded I come over to their side.  Buddy, bless his soul, volunteered to play for the Weaklings.  It was Rachel and the Five Dwarfs against Team Grouch and Ricky Superstar.  Team Grouch was determined to teach this upstart girl a lesson.   Well aware that Rachel was a formidable opponent, I was curious to see what would happen.  After observing her skill, I was not remotely in Rachel's league.  However, since they had stacked the sides, I still expected to win.  So did Team Grouch.  The men were embarrassed at their skullduggery, so when Rachel returned, they made me reveal the bad news to her.  Rachel just shrugged.

Knowing how weak her teammates were, Rachel had her work cut out for her.  However, she did not seem worried.  Seeing her confidence, I had a bad feeling about this.  Sure enough, Rachel was a one-woman wave of destruction.  She was so fast, she got to practically every ball by herself.  I had never seen anything like it.  Rachel had been playing at half-speed in the previous game.  Now that she had some competition, she played harder.  Here was the neat thing about Rachel.  She encouraged her five men to simply get a hand on the ball and bop it up in the air, anything to keep the ball in play.  Rachel would race to retrieve the ball and slug it back over the net.  She encouraged those guys in a special way.  Rachel got those old men so fired up they played better than I had ever seen them.  I think that is what impressed me the most.  Rachel was a leader who made the people around her better.

Since Rachel's team had no offense, she got most of her team's points using her serve.  No one could get a hand on her bullet serve, including me.  I had never seen anyone hit the ball so hard, male or female.  To my dismay, Rachel blocked two of my spikes, a feat which ruffled my feathers considerably.  I stared at her in consternation.  Who is this woman??  Rachel had made her point... girls have athletic ability too.  I was not the only one who was in awe.  Buddy decided to speak up.  He pulled Rachel aside. 

"Young lady, I have never seen a woman play like you do.  You are amazing.  Would you mind explaining where you learned to play like that?"

With everyone watching, Rachel blushed a little.  "I played volleyball on a team in Israel."  Rachel left it at that. 

Instantly the men's faces changed.  The moment they realized Rachel was an Israeli Jew, the transformation was fascinating.  Suddenly the men didn't care anymore that they had been shown up by a girl.  The Yom Kippur War of 1973 had taken place one year earlier.  2 million against 70 million.  Badly outnumbered by hostile neighbors, the conflict had shown that a small nation working as a team could hold its own against the half-dozen Arab countries determined to annihilate them.  The men here at the JCC had taken great pride in Israel's victory, so they showed infinite respect to Rachel.  I was pleased to see them act like the nice guys I knew them to be.  They welcomed Rachel and praised her talent.  In turn, Rachel dropped her sabra warrior demeanor and became charming.  She started to tease the guys in a fun way.  Rachel took advantage of her youth to flirt shamelessly with all the guys, making them laugh.  Even the two grouches warmed up.  By evening's end, Rachel had everyone in a good mood.  Buddy asked Rachel to marry him and she promised to seriously consider it.  I considered asking her to marry me too.  What a woman.

Rachel eased up and played at half-speed for the rest of the night.  In so doing, Rachel avoided embarrassing anyone.  She even served underhand to keep from showing off.  After the last game, I was determined to find out why Rachel was so good.  Certain that Rachel was hiding something, I wasted no time walking over.  "So, Rachel, how did you come to be here tonight?"

Rachel pointed to the bleachers, so we went and sat down.  After the men walked by to say goodbye, we were alone.

"I am an Israeli citizen, but my parents are of German descent.  German is spoken in my home as well as Hebrew, so I consider myself half-German, half-Israeli.  My parents insisted I go to college in Germany, partly because the universities are so good and partly for my safety.  It is very dangerous to live in Israel.  With terrorism, a person can die at any moment.  At the moment, I am taking a half-year off from college in Stuttgart to travel through America.  My father has relatives and business contacts in America, so I never lack for a place to stay.  Here in Houston I am staying with one of my uncles."

"Du bist ein student von Deutschland?"  (You are a student in Germany?)

Rachel broke out in a wide grin.  "Sprechen sie Deutsch?"  (You speak German?)

"Ja, ein bisschen (a little)."  Mixing German with English, I added, "I won a German award in hochschule (high school), aber ich vergesse alles (but I forget everything)."

Rachel laughed.  "Other than my uncle, that's the first German I've heard since coming to America."

"That's probably true.  Winston Churchill once said the Atlantic Ocean is the greatest moat in history.  We are so isolated, Americans have little use for foreign language.  How long will you be here?"

"I will be in America till Weihnachten (Christmas).  However I will only be in Houston for ten more days.  After that, I leave for Austin."

When Rachel said that, I did a double-take.  Her reply reminded me of the time Vanessa said she would be leaving for Portland soon.  In addition to the forwardness with which Rachel had approached me earlier, this unexpected time limit was another reason she reminded me of Vanessa.  I had to suppress my fear.  This was shaping up way too close to the start of my Vanessa romance for my comfort.  But then I told myself to calm down.  What was I worried about?  I expected Rachel to leave at this point and that would be that.  However, I did not want her to go until I learned her secret.  Curious about her amazing athletic ability, I peppered her with questions.  Rachel laughed mischievously and repeated her line that volleyball was her favorite sport back in high school. 

Frowning, I said, "Come on, Rachel, you are the finest female athlete I have ever met.  Your superiority is a dead giveaway.  Now tell me how you became so good at volleyball."

"There's no secret, Rick, I played a lot in high school and I was good at it."

I gave her a dirty look and Rachel laughed.  She was still playing 'I've got a secret'.  Since Rachel seemed more than happy to talk to me, I continued my interrogation.  Rachel was evasive, but I finally got her to spill the beans.  

"Okay, okay, if you really want to know, I tried out for the Israeli national team.  Although I did not make the team, I was immersed daily in a great deal of advanced training."

Finally her ability made sense.  Rachel was an Olympic-caliber athlete.  No wonder she was so good.  Here in 1974, women athletes in America received only lukewarm support to play sports.  Consequently our American women were routinely dominated by superior Russian female athletes at every Olympics.  However, that was about to change thanks to progressive 1972 legislation known as 'Title IX'.  In years to come, American women would emerge as the finest female athletes on the planet.  Our girls would rule the world in sports such as basketball, volleyball, soccer, softball and gymnastics.  Thanks to Rachel, I had been given my first-ever look at what top-flight female athletes were capable of thanks to proper training. 

With one curiosity satisfied, now I had another.  I asked Rachel why she was here tonight. 

"While I have been traveling in America, I make it a point to play volleyball when I can.  When I dropped by the JCC earlier today to find the exercise room, I saw a schedule that said 'Men's open volleyball play'.  I couldn't pass up the chance to play my favorite sport, so I decided to ignore the word 'men' and drop by tonight. 

"Rachel, why do I get the impression you have played this trick before?"

Rachel grinned mischievously. 

"How did you guess?  I have done this twice on my trip, once in Chicago and once in New York.  It is a game with me.  I am always curious to see how men will react.  I love to destroy their expectations.  Women athletes in America are given little respect.  Everyone expects me to 'play like a girl'.  So I check out the local JCC to see if there is a volleyball game I can join.  I get a kick out of watching the men's bewildered reactions."

I asked Rachel if she resented the chauvinist attitude of tonight's men. 

Rachel laughed.  "Are you kidding?  That's what I live for.  Actually, your friends aren't so bad.  I've seen some real jerks.  Some of the younger Jewish guys are so arrogant.  They think God made Man in His image, then took the rest of the day off when it came to women.  Sometimes I deliberately play poorly just to set them up.  Eventually a ball comes floating over the net that I can hit.  I smack the ball so hard they never knew what hit them.  You should see the shock on their faces."

"You said the young guys are the worst.  How did my attitude check out?"

"You are an exception.  I could tell from the start that you were on my side and I appreciate that.  Listen, give me your phone number and I'll give you mine.  Let's get together while I am in town."

Rachel's request was so totally unexpected it took me by surprise.  Her request sent shockwaves through my nervous system.  Although getting together had crossed my mind, there was no way in hell I was ever going to suggest it.  Now that she offered, of course I wanted to exchange numbers, but I felt very anxious.  I am mortal, Rachel is immortal.  Don't mortals automatically go up in smoke if they kiss a Goddess?  I was so nervous, I was reluctant to give her my number.  In fact, I deliberately gave Rachel the wrong number.  Then at the last second, I changed my mind.  Pulling the paper back, I exclaimed, "Oops, let me check that," and corrected the mistake.

Rachel made nothing of it.  She handed me her number, smiled, then said, "Shalom!"

THE COSMIC TEST

The appearance of Rachel coincided with a serious turning point in my life.  Prior to the Dance Class from Hell, I lived my life just like everyone else.  I assumed I had the free will to make my own decisions.  That changed following my Leap of Faith.  Now I lived my life looking over my shoulder for the next Supernatural Event.  In addition, I gave considerable daily thought to God's Will. 

During my spiritual journey back in college, I spent a year and a half thinking about Fate and Free Will.  However, those thoughts disappeared after my disillusionment at the camp counselor job.  Realizing the spiritual path to Enlightenment described in Autobiography of a Yogi was so totally beyond my reach, I gave up.  Maybe a better use of my time would be spent on improving my batting average here in the Material World.  Assuming I would rise and fall on my own merits, I saw no reason to ask for God's help.  I did not need God's help to study.  I did not need God's help to apply for graduate school.  Although my belief in God remained completely intact, over the ensuing three years, thoughts of God and Fate were few and far between.  When I received my walking papers at Colorado State, not once did I blame Fate for my demise.  I blamed myself and left God out of it. 

That attitude changed the moment I saw Vanessa's name in the Mistress Book dedication.  This was God's way of saying "Hey, Rick, remember me?"  I was totally convinced the Hidden Hand of God had led me to that book.  Any remaining doubt was erased by the Dance Class from Hell.  I was so certain that God had personally arranged that ordeal, I concluded it had been a Fated Event.  Ever since, thoughts of God were prominent in my mind.  When I practiced dancing in the Magic Mirror, I wondered endlessly why God had guided me to this odd Dance Project.  Thanks to my shift in consciousness, I began to reinterpret my entire life in terms of Destiny.  Vanessa was no longer an accident, Vanessa was Fate.  Fujimoto was no longer bad luck, Fujimoto was Fate.  The Mistress Book was Fate.  The Stalled Car was Fate.  Drag Queen Lynn was Fate.  The Dance Class from Hell was Fate.  The Magic Mirror was Fate.  And now there was Rachel.  The moment she asked for my phone number, all remaining doubt was removed.  Rachel was Fate.  She had to be.   

I cannot emphasize this enough.  Ever since the Dance Class from Hell and my subsequent Leap of Faith, I felt like my life was no longer under my own control.  Caught in the grip of a river's swift current, I felt like I was being taken on the wildest ride of my life.  Look no further than the weird situation involving Gay Siberia and the uncanny appearance of Gloria on my doorstep.  One crazy thing after another!  And now Rachel showed up at the exact moment when the River Oaks Seven situation had revealed my long-suppressed desire to be equal to the young men and women I had graduated with at St. John's.  To me, it was like God was handing me a pop quiz.

"Okay, Rick, you did not handle Vanessa very well.  Now that you have had a chance to think about Vanessa for a year, I am sending you a new challenge.  You have expressed a desire to meet a woman who is the equivalent of the young women you admired back at St. John's, so here she is.  Rachel is your chance to see how far you have progressed.  Your friend, God"

Unbelievable.  Rachel's appearance was the final key in the dramatic shift taking place in my consciousness.  Ever since the day I found the Mistress Book, there had been one strange event after another.  When these incidents were grouped together, there was little doubt in my mind that the Force of Fate was intervening in my life.  Unless I was badly mistaken, I felt I was being guided under God's watchful eye.  I did not choose dancing, dancing chose me.  I did not know what I had done to deserve this or where I was headed, but I was definitely paying attention.  This line of thought explains why the moment Rachel asked me for my phone number, I was convinced of two things.  First, I was NOT 'badly mistaken'.  Yes, the Hidden Hand of God is REAL!   Second, Rachel is my latest Karmic Test of Fire. 

Burn me once, shame on you.  Burn me twice, shame on me.  Would things have turned out better if I had viewed Vanessa from the perspective of Fate right from the start?  Absolutely.  I would have had my guard up.  I would have confronted her lies.  Okay, so how should I handle Rachel?  I should have my guard up.  Better yet, I should avoid her altogether.  But did I have a choice in the matter?  I was not sure.  The uncanny parallels between Vanessa and Rachel reinforced my fear that I had no choice in the matter.  I was not at all happy about this dilemma.  Okay, check that.  I yearned to see Rachel again, but at the same time I was certain this would not end well.  Knowing what I knew about myself, this remarkable young woman had no business showing so much interest in me.  Be that as it may, Rachel seemed determined to see me again.  And so the mysterious appearance of Rachel posed an unprecedented challenge.

Rachel was sent by the Universe, I was sure of it.  Her appearance was just as strange and unsettling as the appearance of the River Oaks Seven in my class.  At the exact moment I was avoiding women like the plague, out of nowhere the most superior woman I have ever met has appeared out of thin air and shown considerable interest in me.  With a frown, I concluded there had to be a miraculous element at work.  I apologize for putting myself down all the time, but let's call a spade a spade.  At this stage of my life, I was a crippled human being.  There is no way to sugarcoat or spin this.  Based on the principles of Reality, a woman of Rachel's magnitude had no business pursuing me.  However, WHEN FATE IS INVOLVED, ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.  In my opinion, this situation was so unusual, it was further proof that the Hidden Hand of God was directly involved in guiding my life at the moment. 

I doubt I am the only person who has ever suspected there is something very fishy about the way our lives unfold.  Sometimes things happen that feel like Fate, but a person just doesn't have enough evidence to be sure.  Take for example the events leading up to my Leap of Faith.  The Mistress Book, the Stalled Car, the River Oaks Seven, the Magic Mirror and so on.  These highly unusual events had persuaded me to undertake a Dance Project more or less against my objections.  But I will be honest with you.  Due to my slow progress, my Faith was wavering.  Lately I had begun questioning my commitment to a Dance Project that just as easily could be the pipe dream of a mentally disturbed young man.  Maybe this whole "God wants me to take dance lessons" idea was nothing more than a delusion cooked up by a troubled mind.  And then Rachel appeared.

Oh shit, maybe I've been right all along!  

It helped that Rachel had been friendly throughout the night.  She complimented me on my play.  Feeling her respect, I was able to speak to Rachel like a normal guy, not the quivering milquetoast one would expect given my tormented past.  I had been supportive throughout, letting her know I was on her side in spite of the grouchy men.  Now Rachel wanted to see me again.  What should I do?  Do I dare ask Rachel out?  Under ordinary circumstances, no red-blooded man would think twice.  However, I was spooked.  To me, Rachel's appearance felt like another 'tie me to a tree' test reminiscent of the River Oaks Seven.  Rachel reminded me of Vanessa so much it scared me.  If that was the case, then I was certain to end up getting hurt!  Considering the anguish caused by Vanessa and the River Oaks Seven, why should I voluntarily put my head in another noose?  On the other hand, if I walked away from this Goddess, would I ever forgive myself?

Perhaps the Reader wonders if I am overdoing this description of my dilemma.  Incredulous as it might seem, from the moment I left the Jewish Community Center on Thursday night, I spent the next day and a half worrying over what to do about Rachel.  Did I really think about Fate night and day?  Yes, I did.  Maybe it was the mental illness, I don't know, but Rachel symbolized everything that was important to me.  If I could stand tall in her presence, maybe I could regain a semblance of confidence.  But then again there was this Epic Losing Streak where I had failed time after time.  Convinced I was certain to be hurt, did I dare risk what little self-esteem I had left on a woman who would be leaving town in ten days?  Keep in mind I was two people, the 90-pound weakling and Hercules Unchained.  I was the struggling young man with myriad problems and I was also the person I had the potential to be.  In the past, I had dated Cheryl, Emily, Carol and Vanessa, four women close to Rachel's caliber.  I had done well with all four at first.  However, once my demons kicked in, I folded badly each time.  That is what bothered me the most.  It was like walking a tightrope.  As long as I did not look down, I could handle myself with Rachel.  But once my Phobia intruded, I fully expected to fold again.  Something was bound to go wrong, I just didn't know what.  All I knew was that I was bound to get hurt.  But what if I was wrong?  What if I was overly pessimistic?  I experienced a roller-coaster of emotions as my poor little heart seesawed between intense fear and powerful temptation.  Rachel's confidence was intimidating to say the least.  I had a sickening feeling that this young woman was light years beyond my dating skill. 

As I drove to work on Friday morning, the debate continued.  I was in a quandary.   I was powerfully tempted to call her, but I could not make myself do it.  Like Vanessa, Rachel was sure to expose my weaknesses.  Certain that Rachel was way over my head, Phobia was having a field day.  "Rick, you have no business dating an Olympic-level athlete, much less a woman with Rachel's looks and intelligence."  To me, this was some sort of made-for-TV farce, The Princess and the Pauper. 

My biggest fear was getting attached.  If things did work out, did I have the power to let myself be close to this exquisite woman and remain intact once she left?  I remembered how seriously attached I had gotten to Vanessa.  If I lost my heart to Rachel in a similar way, I was looking at some serious heartache.  I did not feel like I had the ability to guard my heart.  No matter how things went, I would lose Rachel in ten days.  Even if things did work out, I doubted I had the ability to let go gracefully when it was time to leave.  I was faced with the age-old question... Better to love and lose than never to love at all?  

Of course my buddy Chip offered his opinion... 'He who hesitates is lost' and 'Faint heart never won fair maiden.'  Phobia had choice words as well.  'This woman will break your heart.'  Phobia held the upper hand.  Convinced I was looking at a repeat of the Vanessa debacle, I hesitated.  Since Rachel was only going to be here for ten days, why bother?  Why get attached only to see her move on?  It was so much easier to avoid Rachel than risk a repeat of the Vanessa tragedy.  There was just too much similarity in these women. 

I made a huge decision.  I decided to outwit Fate.  I refused to take the bait. 

As usual, I had second thoughts.  Or should I say third thoughts, fourth thoughts, and so on?  I began to rally.  Chip was coming on strong.  'All you ever do is complain about how lonely you are.  Take a risk for a change.  Isn't that what you tell your Child Welfare clients to do?  Follow your own advice.  You know you have the ability to hang with this woman, so step up to the plate and take a swing.  You might surprise yourself and connect.' 

Nice try, Chip, but I could not make myself do it.  I was disgusted with my cowardice.  I had never hated myself more than I did now.  The Universe had just answered my prayers by dropping this stunning woman into my lap.  Did I say 'thank you'?  Hell no!  Instead I sat there trembling at my desk afraid of getting hurt again.  Try as I might, as I stared at the phone on Friday morning, my hands could not make the move.  As usual, I procrastinated.  I decided it was too early in the day.  I will call Rachel later on.  Chip had come close, but Phobia had won Round One.  However, the die was not yet cast.  Unsure what to do, I decided to go see Mark. 

"Hello, is this Rick?  Rick, I am so glad I caught you!  Good morning, this is Rachel!  I have nothing to do today and hoped you and I could get together."

"No!!!!!!" Phobia screamed, "Hang up the phone!" 

This is not happening.  This is the stuff of Twilight Zone.  I am dreaming.  This is too unbelievable.  It was beyond comprehension.  My heart pounded with fear. 

I was so dizzy due to the perfect timing of this call that I experienced something close to Vertigo.  The most beautiful girl on earth had just called me at the exact moment I had told myself to avoid her at all costs.  I knew what this meant.

Fate refused to let me off the hook!!  

It was too late to walk away.  This was my dream girl calling, how could I resist?  Now that Chip held the upper hand, Phobia would have to stand down.  With a heavy heart, I overcame my fears and told Rachel about the beach plan.  I made sure to give her every reason to back out.  I warned her about the distance.  I warned her about the weird gay people.  I warned her she would be stuck with me all day.  Rachel was impossible to discourage.  She enthusiastically accepted on the spot.  Not only that, to save time, she offered to drive to my apartment.  Please tell me this is not happening!  The most superior woman I have ever met in my life is DEMANDING to see me.  I had to be dreaming.  Almost against my will, I gave Rachel directions to my apartment.  I ached the moment I put down the phone.  Was Rachel completely fearless??  The most confident woman on the planet was coming to see the most insecure man on the planet.

So many nights my tears fell harder than rain
Scared I would take my broken heart to the grave
I'd rather die than have to live in a storm like before
But, goddamn, you got me in love again
   
     -- Love Again, Dua Lipa

One part of me was thrilled Rachel was coming, but mostly I was overwhelmingly intimidated.  I was in so much trouble.   Even if things went well, how would I ever avoid falling in love and die of misery when she left?   Ain't no sunshine when she's gone.  More likely I would make a fool myself.  If so, how long would it take to recover this time?  I risked at least another year of withering self-criticism. Filled with foreboding, I could not shake the strangest sense that I was being sent to the executioner's block.  Full of dread as I awaited Rachel's arrival, Chip tried to cheer me up.  'Come on, Rick, don't be so gloomy.  Look how perfectly this is working out.  This girl is your fondest dream come true!' 

Indeed, it was perfect.  But it was also surrealistic.  My intense fear prevented me from enjoying it.  Convinced Rachel would end up hurting me the same way Vanessa had, Fate refused to let me avoid this opportunity.  This was meant to be.  No matter how big a screw up I was, this woman had been sent here by Fate to drag me kicking and screaming over my barriers.  There is no escape.  I was tied to a tree.  The craziest thing of all is that I had a premonition something like this was going to happen the moment I first saw her.  There would be no escape because this connection was Fate and I had no choice in the matter.  I knew I was going to fall in love.  I knew I could not resist her.  I knew I was going to get hurt.  I was totally ashamed of myself as I awaited Rachel's arrival.  I shook my head in disgust.  I did not deserve this woman, not after fleeing in terror at the thought of calling her.  If Rachel knew the truth about me, she would have never been this interested.  How I had fooled her was beyond understanding. 

Oh well.  Que sera, sera.  Maybe I was wrong to worry.  Maybe things will work out.

Twenty minutes after her call, Rachel knocked on my door.  I smiled and welcomed her in.  When Rachel saw the pool table, her eyes lit up.  "Oh, Rick, a pool table!  I love billiards!  Let's play while we wait for your friends!"

Shades of Yolanda, Rachel immediately began trouncing me.  I had to laugh in spite of myself.  Since I practiced shooting pool endlessly due to my non-existent love life, I had hoped to impress Rachel.  Now she was beating me just like Yolanda had.  I had a sneaking suspicion Rachel would beat me at any game we tried.  Welcome to my life.

I was thrilled when Mark knocked on the door.  His arrival spared me any further billiards embarrassment at this woman's hands.  Now it was time to go.  If I wasn't so nervous, I would have laughed at my predicament.  My dignity was being assaulted at every turn.  I had a date with Athena and I was miserable. 

I thought of the ancient gladiator who knew today would be the day.  As the trumpets of the Roman Arena blared in my mind, I whispered the Gladiator Salute in Latin, 'Morituri te salutamus!' 

"We who are about to die salute you!"

Rachel heard me whispering.  "Did you say something, Rick?"

"No, Rachel, it was nothing.  Let's go."

GALVESTON

Galveston is an island 50 miles southeast of Houston.  However, our trip was 85 miles because Mark drove us to a hidden location at the farthest end.  The island is thin, 3 miles at its widest point.  It is also very long with 50 miles of beach.  At the far end, there are privately-owned stretches of beach.  Access is protected by locked gates which guard narrow openings between tall sand dunes.  Mark was headed to one of these spots.  A friend had given him the key. 

There were five of us in Mark's car with a second car behind us holding five more.  Mark drove with his common-law wife Mariah sitting beside him.  I had never met Mariah before, but I had heard about her.  I was surprised to see Mariah was unusually attractive.  Good grief, Mariah was almost as good-looking as Rachel.  What is a gay guy doing with a wife, moreover a wife who looked like Mariah?  I made a mental note to ask Mark later what the story was with Mariah. 

Sharing the back was Rachel, Rick and Randy, Mark's best friend.  Randy was really big.  So was I.  Sitting in the middle, Rachel was going to have to sit very close to one of us.  Rachel chose to snuggle up against me.  I didn't mind a bit.  Neither did Rachel.  I put my arm around her and she smiled.  I was almost certain I was dreaming.  But then I remembered the last time I had my arm around a woman in a car.  The memory of the Debbie Denver fiasco sent a huge bolt of anxiety through my body.  This was just too weird, Rick's Greatest Hits Day!  Every single screw-up from my past year... Vanessa, Debbie, Yolanda... was being replayed before my eyes.  This was further evidence that I was living out a script spelled Doom. 

Or, as they say in Latin, Morituri te salutamus.

Feeling overwhelmingly morbid, I barely said a word.  Does a man headed to his execution have much to say?  Besides, the longer I kept my mouth shut, the longer it would take Rachel to realize how anxious I was.  Fortunately, she never noticed.  That is because Mark and Rachel did all the talking.  They really hit it off.  Rachel was such an extrovert!  Of course Mark was outgoing as well, so the two of them got along famously.  While I trembled, Rachel laughed and smiled the entire trip.  I quietly noted Rachel was completely at ease around Mark and his gay friends.  This woman isn't afraid of anything, is she?  We were quite the well-matched couple... Fearless and Fearful. 

Mark pulled up to a gate.  He got out and used his key to open it.   A short road took us to an ultra-secluded section of the beach.  The beach was deserted.  Not a person in sight as far as I could see.  Mark pointed to an elevated beach house on stilts.  "My friend owns that house."  Then he pointed to a small adjacent cabana we could use to change or visit the restroom.  To my surprise Mark did not take a step towards the cabin.  Instead he began to strip.  Uh oh.  I had a bad feeling about this.  Sure enough, there was no swimsuit underneath.  Apparently Mark and his friends had played this game before.   Uh, Mark, did you forget to mention this feature?  Too late now.  Without discussion, Mark, Mariah, Randy and four people from the other car removed their clothes.

With my mouth open wide enough for a seagull to lay eggs, seven people headed out naked to the Gulf of Mexico, leaving three of us behind.  A girl from the other car looked just as surprised as me at the sight of everyone stripping.  She entered the water with her swimsuit on.  That left Rachel and me.  Surely Rachel would be freaking out.  Wrong.  Without the slightest bit of inhibition, she casually shed her clothes as well.  

"Are you coming, Rick?"

I was in shock.  Rachel had the most beautiful body I had ever seen.  Not just that, her boldness had a further chilling effect on me.  I was terrified of falling for her.  What am I doing here?  I have no business hanging with a woman like this.  No doubt she would expose my shortcomings in short order.  In fact, she had already begun with her unabashed nudity.  Trying not to stare too much, I needed to buy time.  Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to point to the restroom.  "Go ahead, Rachel, I will join you in a minute." 

As Rachel went ahead, I pretended to go to the cabana.  With her back turned, I stood there frozen and tried to catch my breath.  Rachel had reawakened every Vanessa-inspired insecurity in my psyche.  I told myself to settle down.  Now that I was alone, I was able to calm down enough to make a decision on the bathing suit.  The irony overwhelmed me... I could strip naked for those goofy gay men at my apartment project, but I was terrified of being naked in front of Rachel.  Not that I had anything to be ashamed of.  My face might be ripped to shreds, but my athlete's body was every bit as sculpted as Rachel's.  Unfortunately, my modesty had me tied in knots. 

It took a while, but I finally overcame my cowardice.  I stripped naked and headed out to the water.  Where is that girl?  I finally spotted Rachel waving to me.  She was down the beach far from the rest of the group.  Despite feeling self-conscious about my nudity, I walked 50 yards, then plunged into the water to meet her.  I was instantly rewarded when Rachel impatiently leapt into my arms.  We began kissing immediately.  My hands were given the delicious privilege of exploring every curve of the most beautiful body I had ever touched.  In a flash, we were both turned on.  Moments later I was treated to the most exquisite passion of my life.