Left Brain, Right Brain

Right from the beginning, Clyde had seemed to be one of those people who can make connections, see both sides of an issue and reason things out logically. I wondered why he hadn't gone to college. Having spilled out my story, I thought it was a good time to ask him.

"It was all about money."

"But your dad earned well. You said so yourself."

"That's exactly the point. Dad didn't even finish high school, but you know, on most jobs, he earns more than the resident engineer who's got 4 years of engineering school, years and years of experience and knows exactly how a job needs to get built. Look at me. As a third year apprentice carpenter, I made more than new graduate engineers. To me, it just didn't make sense to go to college and it still don't."

I argued that the engineer has work year round but he said that that is just what he didn't want. And anyway, even looking at yearly earnings, his dad made more than the resident engineer. Then out came common sense Clyde. "Look Kitty, there's lots of stuff that's all fucked up. That's neither your fault nor mine and neither of us can change the way things are. We just gotta make the most outa the shit we get thrown at us and try to keep from hurting other people along the way."

I wondered if there were any books on philosophy that made more sense than the philosophy that I'd just heard from my young carpenter-lover. We looked at each other. I didn't know what to say. He did. "Enough of this sad and materialistic shit. I'm ready for some more mind blowing sex."

In a nutshell, that was the problem that I had breaking off this futureless relationship. In no way, shape or form did the 17-year age gap portend a good future for us together. We had discussions, but before we could really get into the subject of our future, or lack of it, Clyde would lay a hand on my belly and then one thing would lead to another.

Sunday nights or Monday mornings driving back to the City, I'd have this warm contented feeling. And no wonder. Clyde doted on me, worshipped my body with his lips -- all of it. Back home the week would start with dreams of Clyde ejaculating into a not-on-the-pill me and me getting pregnant. As the week progressed I'd get myself back to the reality of being 17 years older than the man who I was dreaming of impregnating me. When Thursdays rolled around I was rehearsing what I'd say. "Our age difference is too big. It's not fair to you. We just have to accept reality." Arriving at my condo, I'd telephone him, already wondering if I'd be able to go through with breaking up. He'd come in, we'd hug, I'd try to pretend my tears were happiness at being back in his arms, then realize that was exactly what they were. The breakup would have to wait another week.

At some point, it dawned on me that the dream about getting pregnant with Clyde's sperm wasn't just a chaotic dream, I actually had a nagging desire to carry his baby. And my biological clock was ticking -- louder and louder. Several times I was very close to stopping the pill. The only thing that kept me away from that drastic action was my sense of fairness -- it is just not fair to trick a partner into becoming a father. Whatever my desires, I could never bring myself to be unfair to Clyde.

Occasionally the age gap did come up when our sweaty bodies were intertwined and we were coming down from one of our sexual highs. Not surprisingly, these conversations always ended up with the two of us convincing ourselves and each other that 17 years age difference wasn't really that big a disadvantage. Looking back, the good thing was that at least both of us were conscious of the age difference, we just couldn't face the reality of the consequences.

April rolled around and ski season was winding down. It was also approaching the time when Clyde would go back to carpentering. Already in March he'd told me he thought he had a job. The company just hadn't gotten the job yet. I was still getting used to Clyde's construction worker vocabulary. The word 'job' had lots of meanings, it all depended on the context. In one context, 'job' can mean a construction project and is sometimes taken to mean the contract to perform construction work. When a worker like Clyde is employed by a company to work on a construction project, he gets a job to work on a job. Once employed the worker goes to the job every day -- this time 'job' means construction worksite.

Finally towards the end of April, he told me that his next employer was Redwing Contracting located in Hamilton City. Since I, like the majority of Californians, had never heard of Hamilton City, my reply came out on the cynical side. "Sounds like a really hip place to live."

Hamilton City lies about midway between Chico and Orland. If you're still lost, Orland is on Interstate 5 at roughly as far north as Chico.

"Oh I won't be living in Hamilton City, the job's in Hayfork."

Probably even fewer Californians have heard of Hayfork than of Hamilton City. All I could say was "Is that a place or a town?"

"Oh it's a real town. Hayfork, California. On California 3, 'round 80 miles west outta Red Bluff. Even has a high school, couple bars, super market, hotel. And three churches - Mormon, Seventh Day Adventist and Jehovah's Witnesses. Oh yeah, somebody said there's also a couple little oddball fundamentalist evangelical parishes."

I didn't know anybody less religious than Clyde so I couldn't resist the obvious joke. "And which one are you going to join?"

"Oh, I'll try 'em all, see where the social life is best."

I was really getting in the mood and teased back. "And find yourself a little virgin backwoods Barbie?"

"Kitty, the backwoods Barbie's aren't virgins. The virgins fall in another class altogether."

"Okay, so you are going to be screwing backwoods Barbies, who by definition are not virgins?"

"I doubt it. Mostly they're already screwing a local and it's really hard for an outsider to break into that world. Actually, the Barbies are smarter than people think. They know the outsider is gonna leave sometime and then they'll again need to find a local to screw. It's actually easier for outsiders to get to know the virgins. Their choice of men doesn't include the local guys who're screwing the Barbies so they sometimes gotta be more flexible. I know, believe me, I've dated some of these virgins."

"And of course you were glad to relieve these virgins of their virginity?"

"Are you kidding? That's not gonna happen without believing whatever they believe and then walking down the aisle with them."

I had to get back to us. "And me? Do you want me to come and visit you sometimes?"

"If you come and visit me, you can pick which church we go to."

"Thanks. By the way what do Hayforkers do in their spare time -- like for recreation?"

"Well for one thing, since there's plenty kids for a school, I'd guess they screw a lot. One thing I heard too is that the fishing in Hayfork Creek is pretty good."

"I didn't know you fished."

"I don't fish. You asked what the Hayforkers do for recreation. I don't screw to make kids either -- at least not yet."

I just laughed and managed not to let on how deep his joke cut.

Then he got serious. "But you meant me, not the Hayforkers. Look Kitty, I should be working lots of Saturdays. I can't do a whole lot but I'll get in what I can on Sundays. From Hayfork it's only an hour and a half to the Canyon Creek trailhead where you go into the Trinity Alps. That's a really tiny mountain range. Granite rock, lakes, cirques -- really alpine. Rather like a North Cascades in miniature. I've always wanted to explore there. Otherwise there's Mt. Lassen and Mt. Shasta -- both a couple, maybe three hours from Hayfork. You don't wanna completely equate Hayfork with hell."

Then he went on to remark that it was only a five-hour drive from San Francisco to Hayfork. I thought that might be an opportunity for us to start getting out of our happy but futureless affair. "Clyde, there's no way I can come up there every weekend, maybe not even every other weekend. Maybe this would be a good time to, uh, for us to sort of take a break."

"You mean like go out with somebody else? Maybe you're right. Like I said it's never been that hard for me to find a virgin to date. You sure wouldn't have any trouble finding someone to date in San Francisco."

I was pretty nervous about saying what I needed to say next. "Clyde, when adults date, it doesn't necessarily mean just going our to dinner and seeing a movie afterwards. It's not like we're still in junior high."

"You mean like after the movie, you might ask the guy to come back to your apartment for a nightcap? Or maybe more?"

I was trembling but this was my chance. I had to go on. "Yes, for a nightcap and maybe more. Don't you think that if you went with somebody up their in Hayfork, it'd be easier for you to live with it if I date in San Francisco."

"Kitty, I never asked you what you did during the week when you were in the City and I was up at Tahoe. I didn't go out trolling, never even had the temptation. Looking forward to having you on the weekend was enough for me. But we'd never made any kind of pledge to each other. I didn't expect you to stay chaste all week like I did."

"You mean you're okay with knowing I might be having sex with somebody in San Francisco while you're up in Hayfork getting frustrated by some virgin church girl?"

"Look Kitty, that's what I been living with since we started - not knowing whether or not you were screwing somebody during the week while I wasn't getting any. Actually I been living pretty well with that. Now you might think I'm kinda kinky, but to tell the truth, it was even kinda erotic. You know, imagining you doing it with some other guy."

"Kinky isn't necessarily bad, Clyde. We've done some stuff that some people would say was kinky."

"You mean like when you put strawberry jam on my dick?"

"Like when I put strawberry jam all over you penis. And licked it clean."

I was pretty satisfied with how our talk had turned out. On the way home that Sunday night, thinking about how Clyde accepted that I might be having a go with somebody else gave me a nice warm feeling -- like a new erotic freedom.

Back home I had to launch myself at my work. I needed to prepare the exams for the classes I was teaching and the research paper that I had committed to writing was overdue. Regretfully, I didn't have time to go out and insert myself into the dating scene.

Then one morning I was sitting alone in the cafeteria having coffee and reading the Chronicle when I was interrupted by a man with an accent that was unmistakably German. "Excuse me, you are Professor Broder?"

I turned to see a tall, good looking man, hint of gray in his hair, the white lab coat and stethoscope identifying him as a doctor. With my disdain for workplace affairs, I answered with a cold noncommittal "Yes, I'm Professor Broder. Can I help you?"

Not in the least fazed by my coolness, he introduced himself. "I'm Hal Jungmann. I'm new here. One of the nurses, Julie I think was the name, said you are an avid skier."

I hesitated a moment and then answered in voice slightly less cool. "Well if you're Hal, then I'm Kitty. Are you okay with that?" (There are doctors, particularly the real prima donnas, who introduce themselves by the first and last name without title, but will shit bricks if you don't address them as Professor Doctor So-And-So. Fortunately, as a tenured professor, I swing enough weight that I don't have to take anybody's shit.)

"Kitty, I would not want it any other way." And he initiated our hand shake.

So he wasn't a complete prima donna jerk. That and his good looks made me soften my tone to something friendlier. "Please sit down and join me. Hal, you wanted to talk about skiing?"

"I brought my ski equipment along thinking that I'd surely get a chance to use it next winter. I'm only here for a year. The nurse, Julie, asked me why I wanted to wait for next winter. Apparently resorts are still open even though it's already May. In Europe only the places with glaciers that can stay open and even they usually close for May."

"Actually it's only the higher elevation places and then only some slopes that get less sun. Oh yeah, there's a couple limitations. This time of year, they open extra early -- like seven -- and close again around noon when the snow gets really slushy. And it's mostly weekend operation only. By the way, what's home to you?"

"Germany. Freiburg im Breisgau to be exact. Its in the southwest of Germany. We have less than 40 minutes to a ski area in the Black Forest. Or an hour to some areas in the Vosges of France. But for real skiing, well at least 2 1/2 hours to Wengen or Lauterbrunnen in Switzerland."

"Wengen? Lauterbrunnen? Those names don't say anything to me."

"Oh sorry. Wengen is where the Lauberhorn downhill race is held. Lauterbrunnen is near where you go up to the Schilthorn -- you know, James Bond in 'On Her Majesty's Secret Service'."

"Oh, I see." Feeling kind of dumb, I hesitated and then realized I wanted to keep the conversation flowing. "So you're here at UCSF for just a year?"

"Yes. The University in Freiburg sent me here to learn what I can from your staff. It's like a sabbatical. Because it's only one year, I only took along what I thought I would absolutely need. It didn't make sense to ship my car so I still need to buy or lease a car if I want to travel or go skiing."

The soft pleasant voice, the openness and the good looks. Even the accent was a turn-on. I was warming up to him fast. And I liked the fact that he wasn't a regular staff member. "Hal, if you're not busy this weekend and interested in this late spring skiing, I'd be glad to show you around. We could leave Friday afternoon and come back late Sunday."

"We'll need a place to sleep. Can you recommend an affordable hotel? I'm here on my German university salary."

"Yes. A very affordable one. I have a condo." Then to avoid making myself look to forward, I added, "The living room couch is quite comfortable."

I decided that we'd go to Twin Peaks. In case there were or had been any suspicions about an affair between Clyde and I, that would help squelch them.

Wanting to devote full time to showing Hal around, it hadn't been my intention to sign on patrol and I hadn't bothered taking my official patrol jacket and first aid pack. However, after we'd bought lift tickets, Rolly saw me and started crying the blues about not having enough patrol for the day. As a patroller, you never pass up the chance to do a mountain manager a favor. Rolly was quick to arrange a refund on our lift tickets and found a patrol insignia and first aid belt for me to use.

Hal was amazed and impressed. "Kitty, are there many other things about which you are modest?"

I couldn't resist answering with a suggestive smile. "If there are, you'll just have to find out for yourself."

My being signed on patrol didn't interfere with spending time skiing with Hal, who turned out to be a pretty competent on skis -- certainly he was more than a match for me. And he was fun to be with. Not that it hadn't been fun skiing with Clyde. With Hal it was just different, more natural, less intense. Was it the warm spring weather? Certainly not just that. It was more. I remembered someone telling me that Europeans have a completely different skiing mentality that lets them look at skiing as simply another backdrop for social interaction.

The lifts closed at 12:30 and Hal joined in on the sweep, the thoroughness of which really impressed him too. Rolly asked us to come back for the second opening at 4:30. Hal just shook his head in amazement when he heard that the day's operation was split like that. "So now we have lunch and afterwards sun ourselves on the deck at the lodge?"

I told him I had a better idea and he agreed that it was better. We went back to my condo and on the balcony, had a lunch of shrimp salad, bread and white wine. Hal had a hard time containing his amazement and thanks. He helped me clear the table and carry stuff to the kitchen. I asked him to set up the chaises on the deck and told him make himself comfortable.

When I came out wearing a blue bikini, his eyes looked like they were going to pop out and he couldn't think of anything to say except that he hadn't thought to bring shorts or swim trunks. He'd taken off his shirt and undershirt and was barefooted but was still wearing his ski pants.

I really felt sorry for him. Those black ski pants must have been like solar collectors. "I'm so sorry Hal. It just didn't occur to me to tell you. I guess I'm kind of spoiled by having all my stuff up here all the time." Realizing that was a pretty lame consolation, I struggled with what to say. "Look, if you want, it wouldn't bother me if you took off those black ski pants. They must be like a hot stove top. Anyway, undershorts aren't that much different than swim trunks."

"Thanks. I didn't want to be too, uh, forward. It's never good to offend sensitivities. By the way, Kitty, this is really a terrific balcony. Being on the top floor and with the railing, it's only birds and squirrels who can look in." Then laughing, he went on, "In Germany, there is a really strong nudity culture. The average German with a balcony like this wouldn't bother with swim trunks or underpants."

I almost asked if he wanted to sun bath nude, but not wanting to push things too far, too soon, thought better of it and just laughed in a dismissing way.

It was a good thing I was wearing sun glasses because that way he couldn't see that my eyes were glued on his crotch when he pulled off the ski pants. He didn't have a tent pole but it was easy to see that my bikini had not gone without effect either. Trying to hide his growing situation from me, he sat on the edge of the chaise until I laid down.

The sun was warm and the pine branches were whispering in the breeze. I dozed off and woke after a dream that I wouldn't have dared tell Hal. When I moved, he quickly got up to a sitting position but not before I got a glimpse of the bulge he thought he needed to hide. The warm sun and the situation of the two of us being alone on the very private balcony had had an effect on me too, it was just that the effect on me wasn't visible to him. I started wishing that I hadn't shrugged his comment about nude sunbathing. I rolled onto my side to face him. "Hal, are you like the average German?"

"I guess in some ways. I like beer, sausage and sauerkraut -- if that is what you mean?"

So he was going to make me take the lead. I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity again. "Like what you said about the average German with a balcony like this."

"You would like for us to get undressed?"

"That's the only way to get nude."

"Well, there's really not much left for us to take off, is there?"

"No, but since I've got one more piece than you, I'll start." And I undid my bikini top and tossed it aside. The look on his face told me he really liked my boobs.

"You are beautiful, Kitty." His husky voice told me he was pretty worked up. I knew that when his shorts came off, I would not see a limp penis.

"Thank you. I like your looks too." By this time I was sitting up on the edge of the chaise, my feet on the floor.

"I hope you will still like to look at me when I'm without my undershorts."

He had to stand up to get them over his hips. I wished I could have been the one to hold his penis back against his belly when he worked the elastic waistband down. And that penis was anything but limp. I couldn't help but take in a sharp breath. "Oh, I do like what I see."

"I'm glad you do Kitty. But now it would appear to be your turn."

"No Hal, it is your turn. I want you to take off my bikini bottom."

"Kitty, this could go beyond nude sunbathing."