The Humper Game Pt. 05 Ch. 09

Ellen kind of looked at me, but just said, "Thank you. I'll remember that. And you're a very special kind of friend to us. If—. Um. If I were given to praying, you know I would be praying for you to, um, continue finding your footing, spiritually, but in particular for the right man to come your way. Phil needed a running partner, but I'm so glad you proved to be the right one for that and beyond."

We went our separate ways, and after a few moments Ellen asked me, "I know that came from her heart, and I meant every word I said to her as well, you know that. But what brought it on?"

"She had been remembering what Pastor Billings said about requiring abstinence until we're married. And first, she wanted me to explain what he was thinking. How could I do that? I told her my guess, anyway. But she really has some idea how hard that will be if we have to do it, so I told her what we had agreed last night. And Ellen, dearest, I can't tell you how thankful I am that you understood what I meant and are willing to agree. That's something I'm pretty sure Jenny, for example, would never have understood, and would have been deeply hurt by. Besides being unwilling to go through with it long term. I love you so much!"

She said, "Sam would understand, though, and if it were Sam instead of me, even if she didn't understand, she would say, 'Phil, if you feel that strongly about it, I'll follow you in it.' You know that, don't you?"

"You're right. Sam still feels that she owes me anything I might ask. Even if it tore her heart to shreds, she would put me first. Even more than you. I really need to be careful about that. And you know that that has to be part of what's holding her back, right now." And again, I found myself silently offering a prayer, that Sam would stop holding back, and settle whatever doubts remained. I knew that she would never really be comfortable and happy until she did, and my heart just ached for her.

Ellen looked at me another moment, then said, "Phil, I promise, on something like that, if I don't understand or have doubts or questions, I'll ask if I possibly can. But I'm really trying to learn to be like Sam. I've promised you not to say no about sex, but we're heading toward a general promise to obey. And I trust you enough that I'll say it and mean it, however soon the time comes, but I'm trying to learn to mean it automatically, without that moment of saying, 'He can't really be asking me to do that, can he?'"

We climbed up the stairs and walked down the hall, unlocked the door, and went in. We kind of hurried into the shower. We washed and made love, with the warm water cascading over us, more slowly than we usually managed in the shower. We both were very much aware that this might be the last time for months.

Ellen set the table and then combed her hair while I cooked, nothing fancy, reasonably quick. She set our places right together, and then sat in my lap while we ate. I took the towel she'd had over her hair and draped it over her, so that if I dripped nothing would get on her clothes. At various points, while I chewed, I put down my fork and hugged her gently. Well, and I did some fondling, too. The opportunities were presenting themselves, and it might be a long time for that, too.

We took a little longer than usual getting ready to go—more affectionate talk and gestures—and still had no trouble making it to classes on time, meaning a couple of minutes before the end of the earlier class. While I was waiting, Pete and Tammy went by, and they stopped to say hello. We had a minute or so before the bell rang for the earlier class, so I said, "I was surprised when you came in Sunday morning."

Tammy said, "We wanted to get up to fix breakfast for Scott and Martha and Hannah, and quiet as they try to be we couldn't have slept through all that anyway. They asked us Saturday if we'd like to go with them, and we said we would." The bell rang as she said that, and people started stirring in the classroom.

Pete added, "You understand, we were both raised going to church, and our families still do. And we don't resent it, like some people we know, we just—well, we don't believe, somehow, and it hasn't seemed worth doing. Did you say you're expecting to be going there after this?"

"It's not quite that simple. We're looking for someone to officiate when we get married, and Kelly suggested Pastor Mac. We would be looking for someone like him, anyway, so he's where we're starting. We're meeting him at one today, to talk about it, so we'll be eating a little fast, by the way. But I'd say it's quite likely that whomever we choose will want us to attend his church."

Pete said, "I want to hear more, I think. Before or after Professor Bailey's class OK?"

"We'll have to see. If you eat lunch at noon, we probably can talk about it then, but we'll be a little rushed."

They went off to their classroom, after brief hugs.

In theory, there were ten minutes between Professor Goldberg's class and Professor Bailey's, but it often didn't work out that way. There were no bells for classes that ended or started on the half-hours, so the earlier class often went on until the last minute. It probably would have gone on longer, but people like me started getting up and leaving shortly before the later class was due to begin. Professor Goldberg did not treat this as rudeness, and in fact had said that in so many words in the first two class sessions. But there was no time to talk between classes that day—Pete and Tammy and I all arrived right about when class was to begin—even though Professor Bailey was also patient if people were even two or three minutes late.

Anyway, at noon, when I quickly headed down to the little lounge Ellen and I had been using for lunch together three days a week, Pete and Tammy came along too. They often ate there with us, since that first time. I waited for Ellen to arrive before I started eating, though I had some things laid out by then.

Ellen greeted me with a kiss, maybe a little more passionate than usual. She sat down and started eating right away, though.

Tammy said, "I know you're rushed. If there's time, we both want to hear about what Pete asked, but before that I really do want to put in a plea for regular cooking lessons. Ellen keeps saying she needs them, too. And we promise to buy ingredients, all of them if you'll tell us enough in advance, and clean up afterward—I guess we're assuming we'd eat with you, or you come over to our place. And we think we can pay some—nothing like what it's worth, but some. Maybe ten or fifteen dollars a week? Please?"

Ellen and I looked at each other. I gestured at her. She sighed, but then she said, "I've been telling Phil he's got to do this for me, and circumstances have been conspiring against it. I'd love to have you set up a regular day to do it, if we can keep it flexible enough. And schedules will change next semester, of course—this term we've been lucky enough to have our schedules line up really well. But for the moment, would Wednesday evenings work for you two?" She went back to eating. We were both eating throughout this conversation, and I won't say more about it. Except that Pete and Tammy were eating too, just not as determinedly.

"Starting tomorrow? We can't shop before then, though."

I said, "Don't worry about ingredients for tomorrow. I think it's nothing very difficult. I'll have to come up with a way not to be as repetitive as I've tended to be, though. And I'm afraid it will be strongly geared to something like, here's how I make this dish, with some discussion of how I'd vary it. But won't you still have company tomorrow?"

"They've already offered to order in, or even take us out, any time this week. They might even be glad for a meal by themselves. We'll check with them tonight and call, OK?"

Ellen said, "Great, except call me. Phil has another evening commitment, Tuesdays starting tonight. And Phil, I meant to say this morning, Elise will come by for you sometime after six this evening."

Pete and Tammy both looked mystified, so I said, "Ellen thinks I'm going to need martial arts training, urgently. We can say more later. But Elise already is doing that, so she's going to introduce me." They looked impressed, I thought. I wondered why, exactly.

I went on, "As for what Pete asked me about, here it is in a nutshell. Thanksgiving Sunday, we were in Sam's aunt's and uncle's church. I asked the pastor for advice, and he said a lot of helpful things. Kelly had suggested Pastor Mac, and he said he might do very well. He recommended some others, too, but none of them are men he knows really well. And of course, how they handle people coming to them wanting to get married is not something he's talked to them about. He said a little about the kind of counseling he thought someone should be insisting on—he didn't say enough, actually, and I should have thought to press him.

"He said that he, himself, is reluctant to marry non-Christians, because his counseling appeals to biblical principles, and he needs to be able to presuppose some familiarity and acceptance, so we may run into that. On the other hand, Pastor Mac agreed to talk to us today, and we made plain that we're not believers, so I doubt that that will be a problem as such—though he may wind up recommending someone else to us on that basis, I suppose.

"As for Pete's specific questions, Pastor Billings just said that he would normally require attendance at his church during the time leading up to the wedding, and others were fairly likely to do so. I can understand this easily enough. I'm fairly sure that if the people in question were already involved in a church, he would tell them that their own pastor was the one to talk to—and if there were strong reasons, such as scheduling, why that pastor couldn't officiate, he might well waive that requirement. But in terms of getting to know the people involved well enough to reinforce the counseling, and for trying to make sure they at least understand the basis for the commitments they're making, this seems to me like a no-brainer.

"I should say, if Pastor Mac is satisfactory to us and we to him, I have a feeling that this slot of Tuesday afternoon is likely to be our regular time with him. We'll see, though. I think this meeting is just to get acquainted and see whether he makes sense as the person to officiate."

I had been talking fast and eating fast, but it was still time that we needed to leave very soon. Ellen and I said goodbye. Tammy said they would make sure the place was clean and tidy when they left. We swung by the men's and women's rooms and then went off, hurrying just a little, to the church.

We arrived with about ten minutes to spare, and the secretary told us that Pastor Mac was waiting for us, so we knocked and were admitted. He stood up and greeted us. He asked whether we wanted coffee, and we declined, but I asked for water. He asked the secretary, and in a minute she brought us each a glass.

Pastor Mac began, "Kelly has told me a lot about you, so I was interested in getting to know you already. And now, of course, we have your request on the table, but it still may help me if we begin with you telling me about yourselves, your upbringing and so on."

So first Ellen and then I outlined our own life stories. I certainly learned some things about her, and I thought she learned some about me as well. I thought I'd better stress my father's views and attitudes regarding religion of any kind. "In fact, it's not impossible that if we have you or someone like you officiating, in a wedding held in a church, my father may refuse to attend. I hope my mother will be there, in any case, but that's not a given," I told him.

Pastor Mac was silent for a few moments, and then said, "This is getting a little ahead, but in that case I need to ask: Are you really sure that such a wedding is what you want?"

"The short answer is, yes. I'm assuming that at some point soon you will be asking us questions about why we think we should be getting married, and that a longer answer will be appropriate then.

"But I think it's fair to say this up front. One way of understanding my father is to see his hatred and contempt for all religion as, at least in part, a rebellion against his own upbringing. Somehow, and I have absolutely no idea how, he and my grandfather nonetheless came to some kind of agreement that let my grandparents rear me when my mother accompanied my father on the extensive travels his job entailed, and that amounted to around half of my life. He had to know that they attempted to give me a Christian upbringing, but I never once heard him speak about that as I'd have expected him to. I learned early on not to say anything about what I was being taught, as he would be very angry with me, but my father didn't ask me about this if I didn't bring it up. On the other hand, if I spoke to my grandparents about my father's views, they were clearly sad, but they didn't hold it against me, even if I was sympathetic to my father's position.

"If I had to choose between my grandparents' views and my father's, no other alternatives being possible, I would unquestionably stand with my grandparents. So perhaps my own adolescent rebellion is seen in my unwillingness to accept either position. I honestly hope that's not the explanation, but I can't reject that out of hand, either."

Ellen had ended her account with her leaving for high school, saying that from that point on she had really only been home for brief visits, and I had interrupted to say that this was the nature of the school, not Ellen's particular choice. I ended my account at the same point, but added, "Besides things from our high school years that we'll need to discuss at some point, my visit with Sam and her aunt and uncle, in August, and even our weekend with the Goodfriends for Thanksgiving may prove in the long run to be an important part of my life, if not exactly my upbringing.

"In particular, somewhat by chance, they let me address them as Sam does, as Uncle John and Aunt Sally, and somehow we all came to view this as important. They are willing to treat me as family, and I'm very, very happy to view them that way. My father being estranged from his siblings, I grew up in effect without aunts and uncles and cousins. It seems to me that, whatever arrangement my grandparents had with my father, it included an understanding that I wouldn't be allowed to get to know them. I met them—each of them—a time or two, when they stopped by my grandparents' on some kind of business, but I was simply told who they were and no more.

"And since Uncle John in many ways resembles my grandfather, this connection has proved all the more important, as far as my own feelings go."

Pastor Mac sat back and apparently thought for a few moments. He said, "Thank you, that's all very helpful. May I ask what your grandfather's full name was?" I told him, and he said, "I thought that might be so. He was the author of several small books on Christian doctrine and living, wasn't he?"

I said, "This is very strange. He was indeed, but I never knew that. Uncle John happened on some reference to them on line, located copies somewhere, and gave them to me as a gift, Thanksgiving Day. I'm afraid I emotionally fell apart over it—and that's something we're going to have to discuss if we do ongoing counseling with you, because it's kind of a pattern—but finding that there was this whole area of his life that I was never told about brought back all my grief for his death.

"And then, when I spoke of my grandfather to Scott Davidson—who was here playing in your church Sunday morning—he knew of those booklets, and said that they were very helpful to him when he was in college.

"And there's no doubt the author was really my grandfather, by the way. He did in fact discuss all those issues with me, over the years, using the same scriptures and reasoning, and in some places things he said in the booklets are the very words he used in talking with me. It was just a great shock learning of them this way."

Pastor Mac looked at me again. "Thank you. That's very enlightening. The books are somewhat limited in scope—intentionally, I'm sure—but very well done indeed. And perhaps they explain more about you than you realize.

"But to move along, please tell me now why you wish to get married to each other."

Again, I let Ellen lead off. She said, in part, "Part of that involves some things about our high school, and there's too much background to cover today. It really is that complex and tangled. So I'm going to ignore—for right now—how I came to be in love with Phil, and that's very important. So this is incomplete, but it's also sufficient. I've never known anyone like Phil, at all. But he's everything I could want in a man or a life partner, in so many ways. He's caring and tender. His reflex is always to see to other people's needs and wants before his own. I've never seen him be anything other than courteous and respectful, in spite of serious provocation. And he's honest and trustworthy, utterly so.

"In fact, in circumstances I'd better not try to describe now, he had occasion to ask me to trust him. It was important in those circumstances. And I'd seen enough, seen Phil in enough different circumstances, that I said, 'Phil, with you, anything.' And I had occasion to repeat that from time to time, over a year or so, including the time we were here.

"And then, a couple of months ago, we had a major misunderstanding, when it appeared that he had lied to me—broken a serious promise—and I wouldn't even let him tell me what had really happened. When I finally was willing to listen, I was really determined not to accept anything he said. But it turned out that he had been completely honest and truthful. I had been wrong. And he'll insist on telling you, if I don't, that there were good reasons for my original reaction—but the fact remains that he was honest and was doing what he had promised, and I had thrown my own promises to him away without a second thought." She was near tears by this point.

"And he forgave me, without reservation. As I just said, he has done everything he possibly can to excuse my own failing, and then forgiven me the rest.

"And I saw him in some earlier cases forgiving other people, one in particular who had wronged him badly over a span of three years. That's Sam, whom we have mentioned several times. She came to a deep realization of how wrong her treatment of Phil—and another person, and to a lesser degree others yet—how wrong she had been to treat them that way. Every person in our class, without exception, was aware of how she treated Phil, in general if not in detail—it was that open and ongoing. And she came to him in public, when he was eating supper with his friends and their friends, with many other people around besides, and confessed this in detail, and acknowledged that there was nothing she could do to make up for it, and that he didn't owe her forgiveness, but she asked him for it. And he forgave her, completely. He had been hurt so badly that—well, for example, he wanted to hold her and comfort her as she stood there crying, and he couldn't bear to put his arms around her. But he did what he could, in that case taking hold of her hands at least, asking her to be patient with him for the things he couldn't do.

"That's the man who wants to marry me. There are a whole lot of other women who are at least a little in love with him, and he wants me. I hope that's enough explanation."

Pastor Mac smiled at us—well, at Ellen, but I had an arm around her at that point. He said, "Ellen, this isn't a normal question for me to ask at this point, but I think I'd better ask it now, given what you said. Some of this usually comes out in answer to that question, in fact. Does Phil have any flaws, anything to cause you reservations, at all?"