Holes in the Firmament

Part IV

Janine Stantz and Kathleen Spengler

Janine Stantz

We eventually managed to get everything together and make it to the President's house on time, although I think the cabby set a new record for number of wheels in the air going around some of the corners. Sliding out of the back seat and giving my skirt a good tug back into place, I wished not for the first time that Winston was going with us, but with his wife expecting their third any day I could understand why he'd rather be at home. Still, I had a really bad feeling about the dinner tonight, and like it or not I was usually very psychic about things that concerned my family and friends.

Mrs. Halstad met us at the door and waved us in to where the rest of the organizers were meeting. Mr. Halstad, President of the University, was talking to Dean Yeager by the bar, Mrs.Yeager nowhere in sight. Dr. and Mr. Borshinski were deep in conversation with Egon and his mother Kathleen. I saw Dr. Borshinski studying Egon intently while talking to Kathleen Spengler.

I patted Ray's arm and indicated with my head to show him I was going to stand by Egon, and gave him a nudge towards Halstad and Yeager. I knew the Dean made him uneasy, but they were equals in the eyes of the Board and sometimes Ray forgot that. Dean Yeager had, after all, been one of his professors years before, and had been one of the ones that tried to get him and Egon expelled for cheating.

We were all gathered in the first of six formal parlors that lined the front hallway of the President's House, and all of them had been thrown open. The one we were in was called the White Room, done all in white materials, including the pink veined marble fireplace lit against the chill, and the sideboard was done in pale woods and white granite. In all a room that was very expensive to look at as well as maintain.

Beyond was the Greek Room, and the double doors adjoining the two had been thrown open. When I peeked in, I noted that the memorabilia of decades of frats and sororities has been cleaned and straightened, the breakables taken down and tucked elsewhere. Past the Greek Room was the Red Room, a near mirror reflection of the White Room, done in rose and burgundy.

Across the hall from the White Room was the Gold Room, all done in pale yellows and golden oak. The room looked warm and inviting, but was rarely used. Ray said by legend it was haunted, but nobody I'd ever met had seen anything.  Still, it would explain why nobody liked to use it. Beyond the Gold Room and opposite the Greek Room was the Chinese Room, done up in replica of some of the old Victorian mansions when Chinese and Eastern art had been popular. Beyond the Chinese Room was the Green Room, the parlor most often used for informal receptions, and my personal favorite.

The doors between each room, and each room and the hallway had all been thrown open to hold the 50 or so people invited to the dinner tonight. There was to be a semi-formal reception beforehand, then dinner in the Staff Hall in the west wing, then dancing and socializing in the Grand Ballroom in the east wing afterwards.

Egon was looking distinguished in light gray formal wear with his trademark pale pink shirt and red- rimmed glasses. His mother, Kathleen Spengler, was in a light blue watered silk suit, and looked barely old enough to be his sister. I knew that the Spenglers came from money, but sometimes it just hit me.

Soon the rest of the guests began arriving, and the conversation became more general, which meant that Mrs. Spengler, Mr. Borshinski, and I could join in without having a physics seminar shoved down our throats. I love Egon like a brother, but I swear sometimes I just want to bounce his reality check and get him on the same level as the rest of us.

An occurrence, I suddenly realized, that had been happening more and more lately.

That was when I saw that my Ray was right about Egon. He had been withdrawing from the people around him, so slowly that I think only Raymond could have noticed it. It was Ray's particular gift, to see into people's hearts to the best in them, and make them want to give it. But even Ray's encouragement could only do so much and the, well, flatness of Egon's conversation went a long ways towards explaining the anxious looks Kathleen was shooting his way.

It was a few minutes before seven when every hair on the back of my neck stood straight up, and I felt a weird electrical shiver run down my spine. I reached my hand out to Ray but stopped just before I touched him, half afraid I might see sparks.  For a second I had the strangest urge to run across the hallway and slam the doors to the Gold Room shut, certain that whatever haunted it had spread.

The wave of electricity moved across the room, but what struck me was that it wasn't from the Gold Room, it was from further inside the house and moving towards us like a thunderstorm, which ruled out any kind of ghost from the opposite parlor, but since I was facing the door waiting to greet late arrivals with Ray, I didn't get to see Egon's immediate reaction.

I did see Dr. Borshinski and a half dozen other women suddenly change, and a half second later realized I probably had the same look on my face. I glanced back to see what they were looking at, at the same moment Ray tugged on my arm.

"Look," Ray breathed in my ear. "Look at Egon. She was right. Wow! Isn't it great!"

So I turned my head and looked up at Dr. Spengler, and to anybody who didn't know him he looked much the same, but to those of us that loved him he was literally glowing with quiet delight, his whole face, no, his whole body lit up and focused on the source of the feeling that flowed across us.

I wanted to cry when it occurred to me how far away Egon had gone from us, and I'd never even noticed.  It was worse when I got my first look at the man that made him light up, that brought him back from wherever he'd wandered.

Peter Venkman was a heartbreaker. His dark brown hair shined in the lights and contrasted with his fair skin. He wore a black silk tux and a collarless, black silk shirt. The all black background made the discreet emerald cufflinks and single green-jeweled button cover stand out. He had a glass of champagne in his hand, and with the other hand was gesturing in time to his words while he spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Halstad. The President, somebody I knew as highly independent minded was hanging on every word the man spoke, while his wife blushed furiously.

Finally Venkman moved on, but instead of heading over to the reception line we'd made, he moved back into the crowd. I could feel Egon practically collapse back into himself, even though his face showed nothing, and I could see my Ray's upset clearly in his body language. A pair of latecomers showed up then, and we turned back to exchanging hello's, how are you?s and congratulations. Ten minutes later and everybody I was sure would be there had arrived. I caught Mrs. Halstad's eye and gave her a discreet high sign, so she could cue the staff to begin dinner in the next quarter hour.

"Mrs. Spengler, you look more beautiful every time I see you."

Kathleen Spengler

Peter Venkman was a charmer.

He surprised me by approaching from behind just when I'd turned to make sure Egon was doing all right. His complement, made while bowing over my hand and kissing the back of it alerted the rest of the receiving line to his approach. He was as gorgeous as always, and the look in his eyes said that while his flirtation with me was only half serious, it was still half serious.

I heard Janine Stantz's gasp, and realized that the other couple had never met Dr. Venkman, or experienced the force of his personality in the past. But a response was called for in the ongoing outrageous flirtation we'd been engaged in for the better part of the last two years.

I had a sudden urge to rap the miscreant across the knuckles with my fan. Now if I'd only been carrying one.

So I settled for a verbal riposte instead. "Dr. Venkman, I'm so glad you could join us. No fathers in hot pursuit I hope?" I arched an eyebrow and gave him a smile to show I meant no harm. Oddly, I thought I saw something move behind his green eyes, perhaps a slight tightening at the corners.

The shadow passed before I could identify it, and the rascal grinned at me in delight. "Not a one, although there may be a mother looking for me shortly. Can I count on your protection?" He leaned towards me and fluttered his eyelashes.

I could only sniff in mock hauteur, which seemed to delight the brat no end. He turned from me then to Egon, who waited patiently at my right. I was amazed to watch Dr. Venkman's entire body change in an instant when he grasped my son's hand.

"Congratulations again, Dr. Spengler. It's about time you received the recognition you deserve." He seemed to be speaking almost absently, his eyes narrowed and his whole body leaning forward, a scientist suddenly intrigued by a unique turn of events.

Or rather, I realized, a predator spotting potential prey. I looked up at Egon's face, his person held tense in fight-or-flight mode, but his face showed a trace of fascinated fear. Egon had told me years ago about his infatuation with this man as well as Dr. Venkman's rejection of his overtures.  Fortunately, before Egon could do more than nod his thanks Mrs. Halstad announced dinner.

That the President's House had once been a dormitory was clearly in evidence in the grand dining room. In an effort to allow some semblance of intimacy, the party was broken into five groups, each at a large round table covered in fine linens and china. I had helped with both the menu and the seating arrangements, so I was greatly surprised when Dr. Venkman, after ceremoniously escorting me to my seat at the center table, moved to the place on Egon's left. I knew quite well that Dean Yeager and his wife were to have that spot, as the Dean headed the Physical Science department where Egon taught his classes. The Stantz's were still to my right, and the Halstad’s beyond them, but Dr. Venkman and his non-existent companion were now between the Yeagers and us.

I caught Dean Yeager's glare at the psychologist, and his pointed glance at the empty spot between himself and the younger man. "No charming companion on your arm tonight Venkman? Pity, I was hoping for some fresh conversation."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Dean," he responded cheerfully, leaning slightly right for the rather large waiter to take the extra setting. "But the night is still young, after all, and in the meantime I have this blond lovely to make eyes at." Dr. Venkman raised his glass of champagne, barely touched I noticed, to me with a smile. At the last moment, his eyes flicked away from mine, and I know he was looking for my son's reaction.

Oddly enough, I noticed Dean Yeager also had his eyes fixed on Egon, and the barely hidden lust I saw in them set off a cascade of alarms in my mind. Almost instantly it was gone, hidden behind the look of either irritation or indigestion that usually sat there. I couldn't see Egon's face clearly from this angle, but patient amusement was in his voice, and I knew well the mild look that went with it.

"Really, Dr. Venkman, if you insist on courting my mother then I insist on knowing your intentions towards her."

"My intentions, sir, are strictly disreputable," he half-bowed in my direction again.

Fortunately for the conversation and my composure, the large young man returned bearing soup. Dinner followed a leisurely course from there, the conversation turning more general. I caught both the doctor and the dean casting glances at Egon as well as each other, and each time their eyes met the dean seemed to become more hostile, while the doctor became more coldly amused.

Finally the last course was cleared, coffee was served, and the President moved to the podium with a smattering of applause. Dr. Venkman moved his chair back slightly to afford himself a better view, and perforce out of my line of sight.

But not, it seemed, out of my son's. Only moments after the lights had dimmed I felt him stiffen at my side, and well before the President summoned him forward to accept his award I felt the slightest tremor begin in his muscles. When Mr. Halstad beckoned him, he sprang from his chair with amazing alacrity, and I realized what his difficulty was; Dr. Venkman had not only moved his chair, he had positioned himself so that if Egon relaxed in the slightest, he would brush against one or another of the psychologist's parts. Whether it was good or bad that Egon had been able to hold himself away from him was still a matter of debate for me.

When my son had come to me in his college years, confessing both his infatuation and his homosexuality I'd been stunned. Beyond stunned, to be honest; I was devastated. I was repulsed by the concept, but this was my child. Horrified, that I'd failed so miserably to raise a person of value, but he was my first and only baby. Relieved, that his father had died not knowing his heir was a perversion of nature, but this was Egon. And in the end, that is what reconciled me; he was still Egon.

I still prayed nightly that he never knew into what depths he'd thrown me.

Janine Stantz

Dinner was the most fascinating social function I'd ever attended at Columbia. I wish I could remember if I liked the food.

Mrs. Spengler, it turns out, knew Dr. Venkman well enough to be on a first name basis, and their flirtation war was obviously of long standing. He escorted her to her chair and seated her, toasted her with his champagne, and made sure she had everything she needed to perfection.

I was in the perfect spot to watch Egon's reactions to everything the other man did, and Egon had a good portion of his attention on Dr. Venkman. I was also in the perfect spot to realize that Dr. Venkman and Dean Yeager hated each other with a passion.

After the presentation dinner broke up and people started drifting towards the other end of the house for the socializing part of the evening, where Mrs. Halstad had arranged for a small local band to play for those who wanted to dance.

The group started a waltz, and Dr. Venkman immediately rose and walked around Egon to his mother. "I believe, my dear, they're playing our song," he said, cheerfully. "I'm certain I signed for it on your dance card." He held out a hand in invitation, and then swept Kathleen onto the floor.

Close to the same height, they moved together perfectly. I began to wonder whether his mother would break Egon’s heart. Movement from our friend’s far side snagged my attention, and I watched the dancing while keeping a sharp ear tuned on Dean Yeager when he settled into Venkman's vacated chair.

"Have you considered my latest offer Dr. Spengler?"

So. The Dean was taking the opportunity press for Egon to join the teaching staff, something he'd been hounding Egon about ever since he graduated from Columbia. Tonight there was something ugly about the Dean, like he wasn't going to accept a refusal, no matter how graciously phrased.

"No."

Okay, not so graciously phrased. Maybe blunt was better, since Yeager had never been one to waste tact on anybody not in a position to make him look good.

"Why not? It's an excellent chance to devote yourself to your true calling, to expand on the work you've already done without having to worry about the pressures of the private sector. We have a number of alumni interested in donating to construct an entire wing for the physics department, you could design your lab to your own taste; and as for your teaching duties, a handful of seminars on whatever subject you want to address, not to mention tenure."

Dean Yeager had moved closer and closer as he gained momentum, and Egon had begun to lean away from him. Tenure, I knew from my time as a university wage slave, was the Dean's own personal rainbow, given only occasionally and using a merit system only he understood.  Egon moved to stand up, and I nearly gave the game away when I saw Yeager grab Egon's arm and try to hold him there, but Egon was the stronger, and the older man rose with him clumsily.

"Dean Yeager, while I can appreciate the offer, I assure you it would be better going to somebody interested in remaining in academia. I am perfectly content working where I am now." I could see Egon trying to pull his arm away from the Dean without drawing attention to himself.

"What, saying your goodbyes already Dean?" The cheerful tenor was followed up by Peter Venkman's return to the table without Kathleen. A quick look around and I spotted her by a particularly obnoxious potted plant, an odd frown on her face.

The standing trio was beginning to attract casual glances, especially when Dr. Venkman succeeded in breaking Dean Yeager's hold by throwing an arm around each of the men and then leaning. The pressure moved the two men apart, Venkman slid into the gap and grabbed Yeager's hand in turn, shaking it firmly and clapping his shoulder with the other. From the academic's wince, the younger man had done it with enthusiasm.

I couldn't see the psychologist's face, but the Dean's reaction was clear for all to see when Dr. Venkman asked, "I wanted to ask, have you been to see Alex lately?"

Something about that simple question, whoever Alex was, made Peter Venkman an enemy for life. If looks could kill, Dr. Venkman would have been pushing up daisies from China. Yeager’s eyes bugged out and he started snorting like an overworked pug; I made sure my napkin was handy in case he started frothing.

“You...Venkman...what have you got to do with it? This is a private conversation you’re interrupting.”

Smoothly the younger man turned the head of the physics department towards the door, one arm wrapped solicitously around the dean’s shoulders. “What, you didn’t realize I’m handling his case now? I thought you’d been notified.”

Unfortunately the conversation left my hearing. Egon sighed and sat down next to me. “You okay Egon?” I asked, letting him know by touching his hand I was there if he needed me.

It was several minutes before he shook his head, but any other answer he wanted to give was interrupted by Dr. Venkman’s return. “Dr. Spengler,” he said gently, a hand on Egon’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Egon turned. “Of course, Dr. Venkman, although I appreciate you asking. Dr. Yeager can be difficult at times, especially when he’s thwarted.”

Venkman snorted and muttered something I couldn’t make out. “Never mind. I’ve been trying to find the time to call your office all week. There’s something I’d like your opinion on, perhaps we could talk over lunch?” He cocked his head in a question, and the smooth charmer was back in his eyes.

I felt Egon stiffen next to me. “Certainly, Dr. Venkman. I’ll be in the City all next week doing a seminar on campus. Perhaps Tuesday?”

“Tuesday’s good, I’ll call you Monday to confirm. You still have the same office? Of course you do, why would Yeager move you from the office next to his?” His smile suddenly went from charming to blazing, and with an odd gesture he suddenly reached up and pushed Egon’s glasses up his long nose. Then with a deep bow to Kathleen who’d made her way over he turned and left as abruptly as he’d arrived.