The Humper Game Pt. 06 Ch. 06

"They decided to talk to us together, and when Sam started crying in frustration I automatically went and held her, and said my piece, that it was my fault, not hers. I think it was as much a shock to Sam as to me when Bella pointed out that I'd done this and was still holding her, holding her head down against me so she could cry on me. I think that it might have taken another day before we could have actually made love, but maybe we would have managed that night, without help.

"Well, Bella's idea worked. If I couldn't know which of them was working on me, it was stimulating enough. And then she coached Sam, so she took me all the way into her throat, and I just knew it was Bella! When I pulled that blindfold off, and saw that Sam was just delighted to have gotten me to really come that way, when I was trying not to—she was just so happy! And that was the last little bit that was needed."

"Phil! You listen to me. You weren't holding anything back at all. I know you! You wanted more than anything to make Sam happy, and you did. And you know, she wanted more than anything to make you happy, and she finally did. Yes, it was hard. I know the analogy she's used, but here's a different one. If you'd had a broken leg, or even a sprained ankle, you couldn't say, 'I tried to walk normally and keep up with her, but I can't, so that shows I don't really forgive her.' You kept at it in spite of pain and frustration. So did Sam, but I know what she told me. She wanted to just give up, to pretend you'd done everything or to tell them it just wouldn't work, and you insisted! If I weren't in love with you for all kinds of similar reasons, that alone would make me say, 'That is the man I want!'"

After a couple of minutes, I said, "I'm OK. I really am. And I really don't wish I had Sam instead of you. Honestly! She really knows I forgave her, that's not it, but she'll always feel she owes me anything I want from her. She's smart enough not to think that means—I don't know, that she has to demean herself for me, but in the end she would come to resent it. Like Jenny, actually, making arrangements for me with other girls, and then just a couple of days later telling me off.

"I really need you to know that if you owe me obedience, I owe you cherishing. Ellen, I mean it! You've got to be ready to tell me when I'm wrong. Sam knows it, but times would come when she would hesitate because of what she felt she owed me from before, and she would be afraid of hurting me. And she sees that too."

I hugged her, pretty hard—a very fond embrace, but not enough to break any vertebrae—and stepped back. "And I should make sure that sleeping bag is there. Ellen, dearest, this is going to be a hard night for me. I'm sorry. I'll try being in bed, but we'll need to be really careful."

We just tabled things we'd been expecting to do and started getting ready for bed as fast as possible. We hugged for just a moment and kissed almost like we didn't mean it. I was feeling like I was about to explode. I turned my back on her—which wasn't my normal practice—and worked on going to sleep. Ellen, bless her, did not suggest for a moment that the sleeping bag be on her side of the bed, or anything like that. And somehow, I did fall asleep reasonably quickly.

About three weeks after that call, Sam made a public profession of faith, there in the church she had been attending, and she was baptized. Ellen and I really wished we could go, but it just wasn't feasible. Uncle John and Aunt Sally did fly out to be there. The service was recorded, and Sam saw to it that we got a copy. It was wonderful to see her looking so happy. It took me back to some earlier times, and I warned Ellen about this, but I managed not to fall apart. We were both happy about that.

We got her a small devotional book as a gift, and sent it to her. I know she was grateful for it, and I hoped that it would help her. I was a little afraid that the gratitude might be for the thought, not the gift itself. Well, I knew she was grateful for the thought, and I was glad, but I hoped that the meditations—on Psalm 51, one meditation for each day of a month—would build her up. I was the one who thought of this book—it had been on my grandparents' shelves, and Ellen wasn't familiar with it or the author—but I had her read it before we sent it off, and she thought it was a very good choice for Sam.

Classes. Studying. Running and other exercises. Discussions with Kelly. Discussions with Pastor Mac. Dances. Times spent with Pete and Tammy, with Elise and Kelly, with Art and Susan. Taekwondo. Wedding arrangements. The semester seemed to rush by at a dizzying speed.

I found a local institution, a dojang, teaching taekwondo, with some attention to some other martial arts. It was recommended by Joe and John. The head of it asked me questions, and then had me demonstrate the moves I had been practicing. I gathered that he was not displeased with what I showed him, but that I also didn't show any great natural ability. He understood that my goal was to be able to defend myself against attack, but he warned me that I would need to participate in competitions and demonstrations sometimes. Well, one thing I had learned in school was that the student has to be somewhat advanced before his own desires and opinions are worth very much, and in the early stages he really has to be completely in the hands of his teacher. That means, of course, that choice of teacher is extremely important.

He turned me over to an instructor, with a very fast description of what he had heard and seen, and we worked out a schedule for lessons. The instructor also had me demonstrate what I had been doing, and he told me to keep on with all that, but started me on additional moves. He knew—and the master had as well—the guys who had been instructing me, and he urged me to keep working with them, too. I did continue to attend the Tuesday night groups, but I also had Saturday afternoon lessons—group lessons with some individual instruction—and even more practicing than I had been doing.

I had known that there were all these different martial arts systems, but hadn't realized that there was a dizzying array of taekwondo systems alone, with chains of schools as well as unaffiliated ones. The instructor explained about this, rather fast. Again, I decided that my own aims were modest enough that what I had found was enough for me. No point in agonizing. If my particular teacher was good, as a teacher not as a fighter, he would teach me what I needed to know.

Ellen found a group doing the kind of gymnastics she had done before, and began working with them. She began to work out alongside me, which I found very helpful. She also asked, and received permission to watch my lessons sometimes. She made clear that she was not trying to learn taekwondo herself, but to be able to offer constructive criticism to me as I practiced. My instructor was impressed, and at some point came and watched her in a gymnastics session. Working with her practicing alongside me was very helpful to me, in terms of motivation as well as of early correction of errors—but it made determination to remain chaste somewhat harder for me. For Ellen, too, I thought, but she didn't complain.

I went to watch Ellen's gymnastics group a lot of the time—spending more time studying than watching, admittedly. After a month or so, I recorded her doing a couple of routines, one by herself—with others watching and critiquing—and one where she and another woman worked together. Despite everything, I thought Ellen was the better of the two, helping the other woman learn rather than the other way around. Well, I already knew I was a beginner at taekwondo but that Ellen was no beginner at gymnastics.

I sent the videos to Mom and Dad, because I remembered Mom's comments about Sam's talents, and her not having seen as much of Ellen's. When we talked, Mom was properly impressed. I made a point of reminding her that Ellen had been away from this for well over a year, and was just starting again—and that it got only whatever time was left after studying and other activities. I had seen Ellen doing routines at school—though I'd rarely really watched closely—and I was impressed myself. Gymnastics performances were given occasionally at school, about like choir concerts, but I hadn't always gone to watch.

I was humbled, watching her. I knew very well that, in spite of being a woman and smaller than I was, Ellen could lift a little more than I could and run a lot faster and longer than I could—even though she was out of training for the gymnastics she had trained for. Somehow, though, seeing her doing a series of flips and cartwheels—plus things on bars that I didn't know the names for—gave that knowledge a lot more concrete reality. I worried a little that she would forget how long it had been, and try something that wasn't in her range any more.

I found our sessions with Pastor Mac both helpful and frustrating. He talked us through important issues, some of which might have made for unpleasant surprises later on. And we got to know each other much better, enough so to surprise me. The frustration entered because much of the guidance he tried to provide was biblical, but at a somewhat superficial level, intended for people who might not know the scriptures very well. Both of us found this frustrating. I knew the Bible quite a bit better than Ellen did, but it seemed she knew it better than many Christians who came wanting to get married. The pastor recognized the problem, and tried to go quickly through some of the material, but most of it it was important—just familiar to us already. He wanted to make sure nothing was missed. Even where it was frustratingly basic, the discussion were sometimes surprisingly helpful.

In any case, the things he had us talking about were all things we should have talked about, or known about each other, and they were mostly things we hadn't talked about and didn't know. Some we had seen in good measure, living together. For example, we had a good idea about how each of us handled money. But even so, we hadn't talked about that, and there were some surprises. The same for kinds of activities we enjoyed, music we liked, and many other things.

At one point, Pastor Mac asked me whether it would be all right—with me!—for him to copy one of Granddad's little books, for someone he was counseling. "I've done this with a page or so, now and then," he said, "but never a whole book. These are still under copyright, of course, even though they're out of print and unavailable."

"I can't imagine that Granddad would have minded. His goal—in teaching his Sunday School class and in teaching me, any time I saw him talking about biblical topics with anyone—was always to help people understand the Bible, and believe and follow it. I'm quite sure he was thankful for any royalties he got, but he might just have given them away. He had a good-sized family to raise, and he believed in being provident and saving, but he also viewed everything he had as a gift that he was permitted to use, and was to be generous with. As you know, since you've read them. I let Kelly copy them all."

Despite ongoing sexual frustration and shortage of time, that semester was a very happy time for me. The philosophy course I took—Philosophy of Language—was less interesting to me than Philosophy of Mind had been, but it gave me plenty to think about. History courses were interesting, too. And in spite of being too busy, I enjoyed the other things clogging my schedule.

Eventually, we got details of the wedding and reception firmed up. Everyone we wanted to participate agreed to do so, and was free on our tentative date. We really tried to nail that down early, of course. That definitely included Ellen's family and my parents, of course, even though they weren't actually doing anything in the ceremony. Ellen's parents had decided not to give her away. I hoped that didn't indicate some lingering opposition to me, or to our marrying. Ellen was quite sure it didn't, that it only meant that she had chosen me without their help. I hoped she was right. Whenever we talked, they were friendly toward me, not just polite. I always asked Ellen for a bit of a post mortem on our calls, trying to learn to understand them better, to learn what pleased them and what displeased them.

Sometime after that, we sent out invitations to those we were inviting to the reception as well as the wedding. RSVP. You think people do that? Fat chance! Well, some do, but way too many don't. We spent a lot of time following up on those, and added a few more people to that list and invited them, as we found people who wouldn't be coming.

Then we sent out an invitation to the wedding to pretty much everyone else we had contact information for. We did our best to clearly state that this did not include the reception, since the hall's capacity was limited. In the end, it seemed a few failed to grasp that point, though. And we got some friends who did use social media to post that version of the invitation wherever they could. No RSVP in any of that, but actually a pretty good set of replies. Go figure. In the end, we really appreciated some of the regrets replies, because some people wrote to say they really wanted to attend but just couldn't. Some of them were very kind and encouraging. A surprising number reminisced fondly.

We made a point of inviting Pete's parents and Tammy's—whom we hadn't yet met but who were providing our honeymoon for us, after all—and Scott and Martha. We had enough flex in reception seating that if they all had accepted, we could have squeezed them in, but we didn't expect any of them to come. We told them all that we didn't really expect them, given how far it was, and that if they did come we would like as much notice as they could give us, but that we would love to have them there. They all sent regrets.

With all the practical details that had to be taken care of, together, I was starting to feel rather frantic about a month before the wedding. Ellen took me to task over it. "Phil, it's brides and their mothers who are expected to get wound up and obsess like this! We're keeping this almost as simple as a wedding can be, if several hundred people may attend, with a reception for seventy or eighty people. Relax! We've got a bunch of people managing things for us. I'm surprised at how many people from the church are taking care of details—cake and flowers and the whole dinner. The ladies doing the dinner have done this a lot, and they know what they're doing. They'll have extra food, just in case. OK, we pay for the extra—or Father does—but they know what they're doing! I should make you sit down and write that a hundred times, 'They know what they're doing.'" I was grateful all over again for this wonderful woman, who loved me enough to put up with me when I was being difficult, and to tell me straight out when I was wrong.

One extra thing that had to happen turned out to be parties. I knew women from the church were putting together a shower for Ellen. I was asked to provide names of her friends whom no one else might think of, and supplied a couple, women she did gymnastics with and in her classes. I suggested Ellen Manning, Deedee, and two others—being pretty sure none of them would be able to attend—and some psych women—students and professors both—who probably were already included. Kelly was one of the women putting it together, so I didn't bother with anyone I thought she would think of. And apparently some of the women I suggested offered other names. Ellen came home from the shower flushed and excited, with a whole slew of boxes I was under no circumstances to get into before the wedding—and a few useful household items that I was shown. No duplicates there—Kelly had a good idea of what we had, and I thought she consulted Tammy, too. I thought they passed around a list, rather than doing a registry somewhere, and I had no idea how they avoided duplicates from that list, but we really had what we needed already, along those lines.

But I was surprised to find that the next Saturday evening I had a bachelor party. That is, I was instructed to show up for it. Again, sometimes it doesn't pay to argue with Ellen, and it was too late to argue anyway. I had been hoping to avoid any such thing. I'd never been to one, but I knew their reputation—get him drunk and toss him in bed with a woman, lots of drinking by everyone else.

This wasn't like that at all. Guys in our Sunday School class organized it, and invited people in much the same way as for Ellen's shower—Ellen and Pete and Kelly were asked for names, and I guess those people were asked for names, too. Classmates in history, two psych majors I'd gotten to know some, quite a few church men. A few others. Invitations had specified no alcohol, I found later. And it seemed that the church had a way these parties were done. A time of socializing, with refreshments, and then some time all together talking about the guest of honor. This was done in a way designed to honor him—me, in this case. Though there were some compliments phrased teasingly, they were all fond and nice. Nothing at all with any edge to it.

Art was there, and he was one of those who talked about me. He said that Ellen and I were both either unbelievably lucky or really smart, and that he leaned toward smart with a little luck as the explanation. He said that in high school, our senior year, there were dozens of girls who would have loved to be in Ellen's situation by now, and half a dozen at least who might have had a realistic shot at it. "Most of you know Ellen," he said. "There were only two others who really might have been almost as good a choice, and there really is a little luck there for both Ellen and Phil, because even those two just aren't the perfect match for Phil that Ellen is. I know a lot of really smart, beautiful, talented young women, and Ellen's at the top of that list—but beyond that, she and Phil are just made for each other. A lot of other guys might have gone for her, too, but she made it plain early on that Phil was the one she wanted."

I was a little afraid he was going to make veiled references to sexual attraction, and I was relieved when he went on.

"They're a blessing to all their friends, and a lot of you know what I'm talking about. If you need something and they can help you, they will." At that point Pete expressed agreement, pretty loudly. "They keep their attention on what's important. That means they spend a lot more time studying than most students, they don't blow their money on a lot of stuff they don't need, and they don't eat out five times a week. Almost never, in fact. In case you haven't found out, Phil is an excellent cook, too." Pete and some of the church folks put in loud agreements to that.

"But they're generous, with their time and their money and their energy. They're both completely trustworthy, and I'm sure you all know how rare that is. Phil is hands down the kindest, most gentle man I have ever met or even heard of. And I'll give you kind of an extreme example.

"Our high school was really unusual in a lot of ways, and a lot of you have heard about some of them. Tougher and more disciplined on academics than any high school you've ever heard of, for one thing. Than a lot of colleges, for that matter. And it's in a place that's technically outside the US, politically separate, a very small country of its own in effect.

"Well, our senior year, a group of guys ambushed and raped one of the girls. She was kind of timid, and they threatened dire consequences if she ever told anyone about it, and she really was too afraid to report it. Well, the next day she was talking to Phil about something else. They weren't really friends, by the way—they didn't know each other that well. They were together because of an assignment in a class. Anyway, from something she said, Phil saw that she was upset and really down, so he put off what they were supposed to be doing together and made her tell him about it. I don't think I said, earlier, that about a lot of things Phil can be so perceptive and observant it's scary—people have accused him of reading their minds, lots of times.