Dilemma

I don't mean just a good person but someone like a young Mother Teresa. I didn't know a thing about saints, but I did know that they had something special and I was far from the only one who saw that Cindy was special.

When I went to Children's Hospital with her, you'd have thought she was a visiting rock star, only accessible. Whenever she'd stop moving, people would pop out of the woodwork to talk to her. Not just children, doctors and nurses would practically run down the halls to exchange a few words with her.

She had something special, but I couldn't figure what it was. Oh, I felt the same attraction but even though I prided myself on my cool analytical nature, its quality eluded me.

I also didn't understand how she always managed to make me feel like the center of her universe. Even when she was is earnest conversations with those who encircled her, I knew she was completely aware of me. I understood that part of it was that she would constantly make eye contact with me, gauging my mood, my level of comfort with whatever she was doing. Part of it was the little hand pats or squeezes she'd give me as she talked to others. Still, given the level of attention she gave others, it shouldn't have worked.

Then there were the things people talked about with her in my presence. Children talked about dying or living the rest of their lives with horrible disabilities. Doctors and nurses talked about the stress in their lives caused by treating those children and the affect on their private lives. I never knew how emotionally devastating it was on the medical professionals to lose one of those children, or how much they loved them, despite their attempts at "professional detachment." I know some of those professionals had never shared their deepest pain, even with their spouse, but they shared them with Cindy, in front of me, in open corridors!

I'll never forget the doctor who wept as he talked about cheating on his wife. There were three or four others encircling Cindy and me when he began pouring out his story and exposing his guilt. The others stood there in open-mouthed shock and I wondered how long it was going to take the rumor mill to grind this juicy morsel. He didn't care; he needed to confess. Cindy didn't let him off easily either. I don't mean that she berated him, but before he left he had a list of difficult steps he needed to take to try to atone for what he'd done to his family. Incredibly, he thanked her and any fool could see that he'd left a burden in that short talk.

As I sat on that bench, holding her on the day before my 26th birthday, I knew I needed to make a decision. If I didn't pull back from Cindy soon, I never would. Lorelei had hurt me more than I thought one human could hurt another without spilling blood, or maybe with it. Yet, if I continued with Cindy, I knew she would hurt me more. Oh, she'd never cheat. The Pope would convert to being a Baptist first. No, as I held her, I was unable to ignore just how sick she was, I knew that she'd leave me in a different way. I wondered if I could distance myself now so that if she died it wouldn't leave me an emotional cripple.

As I contemplated that probability I clutched her too me, I literally couldn't stand the thought that I might lose her an instant sooner than I had to. I'd been a bit too fierce and Cindy stirred in my embrace. She snuggled her cheek against my chest and said, "Mmmm, I love you."

If leaving hadn't been a forlorn hope before, I knew I knew it was impossible now. We'd never talked about love or our relationship that way. I looked down at her and she was still asleep. I felt tears trying to form; I had refused to acknowledge that I might be falling in love with her. How could I have been so blind? A solid wave of emotions roiled over me.

Incredibly, one of the more powerful was a sense that I was somehow being disloyal to Lorelei. That was quickly subsumed by rage at what she'd done to me. Cindy stirred again, almost as if she could feel my turmoil. My unconscious reflex to her discomfort was to suppress my anger and mentally force each of my muscles groups to relax. Preserving her peace was far more important than the satisfaction of yet another tired rant. It was only months later that I realized that my decision spoke silent volumes about the true state of my feelings.

At the time I just knew I really couldn't just walk away. I understood that the time to leave had passed unnoticed. This wonderfully strong woman's fragility had become interwoven in me. I felt Cindy relax back into that boneless, totally vulnerable state in my arms, and I felt a warmth suffuse gently to my core. She trusted me to protect her, and I'd do whatever I could to be worthy of that trust. But no sooner had I completed that thought that I realized I couldn't protect her from what was killing her.

Before I had time to brood on that depressing thought, Cindy awoke. Without a single word, she stood, flexed and started to drag me back to the energetic strolling she'd been putting me through before her collapse. I stood, caught her hand and gently drew her to me. We stood there, under a canopy of the old trees that lined the path. The river swirled and eddied and the clouds danced on a gentle breeze in an azure sky. Cindy looked up at me and I looked through eyes that perfectly matched the color of the sky, and into the soul behind them.

"I think you're becoming important to me. Cindy," I told her "I never thought I'd let anyone get close to me again. But we never really talk about your heart, and I can't pretend to ignore it any more. I've had nightmares where I used my key to walk into your apartment and I find you, and you're gone. I can't stand the thought of losing you and I won't without one hell of a fight. Temple University Hospital is just about the top heart transplant hospital in the world ..."

Cindy interrupted me, "I know Chris that's why I'm here..."

"But you haven't let them give you the status you deserve. What are you? Status 4, 5?"

She looked up at me, her eyes big, "I'm a status 7."

"Hellfire that's inactive! That has to change. I'm not sure how I'd deal with losing you, but I can't be a part of you if you're not willing to fight for there to be an us."

"How can I place my life ahead of others? Are they somehow less loved? Chris, I see them, I go to Temple and I visit with some who are waiting. There are so many who are so scared, who aren't in a good place. Chris ..."

"Cindy! This isn't open for discussion. You aren't the one assigning the priority, they are. YOU aren't jumping up the list; the people who control the list are the ones who want to move you up!"

She looked up into my eyes, hers pleading for my understanding or acceptance, "But Chris, those people know me, what if they're letting their emotions ..."

I let my feelings flood through me, "Cindy, what about children? Don't you want to give your children a chance to know their mother?"

She cracked, hugged herself to me and I felt her sob softly. We'd never talked about marriage, much less children, but I knew how she felt. After all we'd met at a fertility clinic ... a clinic where I had access to her most confidential records, and I was no saint. I knew that was her one real weakness. Although she was only four years older than me, her biological clock wasn't clicking, it was roaring.

So softly I could barely hear her, she said, "I know it's wrong, but I do so want to leave some of me behind. I've talked to Sandy, begged her really. She said she'd consider it, but Jim doesn't want any more children, and Sandy doesn't think she could carry a child and then just give it up for adoption."

I hadn't met Sandy, Cindy's big sister, yet, but I'd heard all about them. She is 12 years older than Cindy and Jim, her husband, was 47. I knew their two children were already high school. I suppose the idea of raising a child who wouldn't graduate high school until after you were on Social Security might not be attractive, but after all it would be Cindy's child ... and I had another epiphany. Cindy wasn't the only one who wanted to see a child of hers in this world.

I wasn't in love with her, yet, certainly not the way I loved Lorelei. A part of me knew I could never love anyone the way I'd loved Lorelei, I'd given her a large part of who I was, she took it, and I no longer had that to give.

But if I wasn't in love with Cindy, she was by any measure the most important person in my life right now. I also found her highly desirable. No, we hadn't made love, she hadn't said anything, but the message was clear that she reserved that for a wedding night. I wasn't much on prayers, but if I was, I'd thank God that my "saint" was of the Protestant variety. I'd had no interest in sex of any kind during and after my divorce. I'd never even been tempted to pick up someone just to see if casual sex might lift my spirits. That had changed recently. Cindy was a sensual woman, and for the first time in my life, I was getting to be on a first name basis with Ms. Thumb and her four daughters.

Nodding, I decided the world would be much poorer without something of Cindy in it, I couldn't let that happen. I would love to practice making babies with Cindy, but that didn't mean I was at all ready to contribute the DNA, much less volunteer to assume the role of daddy. With a start, I realized that if I wasn't ready to plan my future, at least I'd stopped looking back.

Until I'd met Cindy, I'd been living in the past, constantly trying to second guess what I might have done to keep Lorelei from doing what she'd done. Or worse, spending countless hours trying to figure out some way that I could wreak my vengeance upon them.

As I stood there holding a quiescent Cindy, I realized the poison Lorelei shat into my soul was still there, but now the tumor had been encapsulated. It hadn't consumed all of me and thanks to Cindy it never would. I don't know why this marvel had decided to get involved with me. I certainly didn't have a clue why she would fall in love with the broken vessel Lorelei had cast away, but if there was anyone in the universe that could mend my soul, I was holding her.

That might not be the love I'd understood a man was suppose to feel for his wife, but I suspected it was as close as my brokenness could come. I shook my head. No, deep in my heart I knew I could learn to love this woman, if not as completely as I had Lorelei, it would be more than I had now. I just needed time to heal. I needed time for her to work her miracles on me ... and I'd use whatever tools she gave me to make sure she lived long enough to do it.

"We're going to Temple Hospital on Monday, Cindy. You will let me do whatever I can to move you to the top of their list."

Everything I knew about her told me to expect an argument, perhaps a flat refusal. Instead she searched my eyes to see if I could be persuaded and simply said, "Okay, Chris."

** ** ** ** ** Chapter 3

Three weeks later my boss called me back into his office. "I'm going to give you a shot at that Sales Tech position, if you're interested. I'm going to break up our best team to allow you to get trained right. In a month or so I'll move you to the actual team you'll work on. I'm going to be making some other moves at the same time, so I can't tell you who your permanent partner will be."

I swallowed hard and asked, "If this doesn't work out can I have my old job back?"

"Sure, you'll have all your options open until the end of your training. If you decide sales aren't for you right now, it'll still be great training for where I think you'll want to grow with us."

As I left the office, I had maniacal butterflies battling in my stomach. I didn't mind the little buggers with knives; it was the ones with the war hammers that gave me fits. I'd read "Death of Salesman" in college and the idea of being a modern day Willy Loman terrified me.

On the way home that night I stopped by Barnes and Noble and bought the first two books of jokes I could find. When I actually tried to read them, I discovered that the newest was old when my granddad was a boy. Have you heard the one about the traveling salesman and the farmer's daughter? I'd yet to crack a smile when Cindy arrived. She had a key, "in case of emergencies" but never used it, always ringing the bell instead.

While I was fixing dinner for us I heard her trying to suppress a laugh. "Did you find one you hadn't heard?" I asked. One of the things I liked most about Cindy was her easy laugh. I've always been a bit on the serious side but Cindy makes me think I'm funny. She's not in the least silly, but because she's basically happy she will give a genuine laugh to almost any attempt at humor. Oh, there are exceptions. She never laughs a cruel jokes but even the corniest joke can get a laugh if it's told straight.

"I love this one, but it's too off-color for you to use. 'There was this very naïve couple on their honeymoon. They'd tried everything they could but her cherry just wouldn't break. Finally in desperation they agreed to go to opposite ends of the room, and run at each other. When the husband was about to make contact he closed his eyes and the next thing he knew, he was falling naked off their second story balcony. The fall didn't hurt him, but he was at a loss about how to get back to his room through the crowded lobby.

"'He was relieved to see a doorman with no one around him. He called and when the man came over he didn't want to explain why he was naked and he didn't want to send anyone to his room since his bride was equally nude. Instead, he tried a long involved story about being mugged and asked for some spare towels.

"The doorman replied, 'Hey, no problem just go on up to your room, no one will see you, everyone's on the second floor trying to get a naked lady off a doorknob!'"

Cindy chortled! I think great-grandfather heard that one in seventh grade but I was surprised that Cindy would tell it to me. As I said we'd had some pretty passionate sessions but she'd never even let me touch her between her legs. Some of what I was thinking must have showed on my face.

"Chris, you've never asked me about my past. What was it W. Bush said, 'When I was young and foolish, I was young and foolish?' I was very foolish, very very foolish. I haven't talked about it, but I guess now's the time we should. If you want names and dates I'll try, but it will take awhile."

I was shocked. I was certain she was a virgin. I mean she's a minister! As she sat there, with that familiar calm expression on her face I knew that I was ... "conflicted." I hate that psychobabble term, but it's what I was. I felt a surge of jealousy and I knew that details would just make it worse. I also knew that I needed to understand what made Cindy the person she was. Then, before I could make any sort of decision, she answered the question that I wanted to ask most.

"I haven't been foolish since early in my senior year in college. I haven't even been tempted until you came into my life, but if I've learned anything, it's that it's never too late to stop being a fool. I don't pretend to be anything but a constant sinner, but I do the best I can.

"Chris, I love sex and I enjoyed every minute of what I was doing, while I was doing it. It was only later when I counted the cost, that, by the tiniest of margins, I regret what I did. I wish I could come to you without any baggage, but I can't."

She searched my eyes, and it took me a few long seconds to realize that she was scared this would make a difference to me. It did, I hadn't been sure that Cindy wouldn't be one of those folks who thought sex was dirty or to be done only one way and in the dark.

"I suppose that means you can teach me a thing or two." I did my best imitation of a smiling leer.

For once she didn't laugh, "If I ever get married I promise that our wedding night will make my husband's head spin!"

An awkward silence followed, awkward for me, I'm not sure Cindy noticed. It had been said lightly, but after she'd murmured "I love you" on that Saturday, I'd been struck by the words "If I" and "my husband." I'd expected "When WE" and "make YOUR head." I had no right to expect it. I hadn't told her that I was interested in marriage. Frankly, I wasn't. What was bothering me was that I wanted HER to be ready.

With a bit of insight, I realized just how much I needed to be loved by someone. I still hadn't let my parents know where I was. Just before my divorce became final, I got so lonesome I bought a disposable cell phone. When my father answered he practically took my head off, yelling at me for not talking to my mother. Then he blurted something about needing to give Lorelei a chance to talk to me.

I'd hung up just before I'd puked all over my shoes. I knew, not suspect, but knew that both my parents had loved Lorelei more than they had me. She was more their daughter than I was their son. Still, to hear that in my dad's voice hurt. I'd written an angry e-mail, and then sat on it until I cooled down. I revised it, toned it down some, apologized for hanging up but once again tried to explain how even her name affected me. I sent it using one of the company's dummy accounts. It went out with no return address, and no one short of the NSA would be able to trace it, and I'm not sure they could.

I think that's when my pain began to morph into anger. At least I could let my anger convince me that it didn't matter, I didn't need them. I didn't need anyone. Anyone who's ever taken a stand like that knows it's not true. I'm not sure you can actually die physically of loneliness, but you certainly can spiritually. Spending time with Cindy let me recover, she saved me. I'd been in spiritual ICU and the end had been near.

Now, as I worked my way back, it was like any other recovery: you paid the price. If your leg goes to sleep, it will tingle painfully as you restore circulation. When you heart goes cold, you feel even more painful needles as it warms.

Always sensitive, Cindy wrapped her arms around me and her hug spoke volumes. I wasn't alone and even if she wasn't proclaiming love at every pause in the conversation, I was important to her. Perhaps even the most important person in her life. I wanted that, but I remembered something I'd heard long ago, "If you want to be fully loved, you have to love in return."

I kissed the top of her head, having to stand on my tiptoes to do it. Have I said that Cindy is an even six foot tall?

She looked up at me, "I love you. It's okay that you don't love me, you're not ready for that yet. For now, it's enough that I love you. Please don't let that scare you. I'm not going to push you."

I kissed the top of her head again. I tried to say the words, but if I had they wouldn't be true. I didn't love her, but while I didn't know if I was the most important person in her life, she was in mine. Sadly, there weren't even any other contenders.

That night marked a change in our relationship. Cindy didn't change really, she was perhaps a little more demonstrative of her affections, but there was a real change in me. I relaxed, not as much as around Lorelei, but more than I ever had with anyone else in my life. I was at ease to be myself. It was a wonderful freedom, and Cindy made it clear that she loved the real me even more than the mask I'd allow her to see. Is it harder to trust than to love? I'm not sure.

That didn't mean that my other relationships were getting better. Two weeks after I started making sales calls with "Call me Bud," he called upon me for some technical facts in a presentation. On one aspect he stretched the truth beyond all semblance of reality. Then he turned to me and asked that confirm his whoppers. I gulped and did my best to back him up.

The customer didn't say a word, but rose and walked out of conference room. "Call me Bud" became "Mr. McKindley."