The Humper Game Pt. 06 Ch. 06

"So she broke down and told him about it. She was afraid, but she was also hurt so badly, emotionally, that she needed to talk. And he calmed her down and soothed her a lot, first off. But then, somehow, he reported the matter to appropriate authorities, somehow in such a way that anyone who knew he and—and this young woman were talking wouldn't have a clue that he did it. I still don't have any idea how. But they arranged for her, and Phil too, to come in—accusing them of having sassed one of the teachers. If it were bad enough, that would have been a serious offense, by the way. We were always supposed to treat everyone else, not just instructors, with courtesy and respect. Anyway, that should have tipped the bad guys off, because Phil just doesn't do that kind of thing. I've never heard of anyone as courteous as he is, even when people are really being nasty to him.

"Then, they wanted to have a doctor look at her, and she wasn't comfortable walking the half mile or more to the infirmary, by herself, and who can blame her? So Phil offered to escort her, even though it meant missing study time and half of supper time. And at this school, no one could afford to miss study time much.

"But here's what shows his true character. A couple of weeks later, the security people arranged a trap. She let it be known that she had an impossibly bad headache, and that she was going to the infirmary after supper. Just as it was getting dark. Just the time these guys had jumped her before. They all left supper early, and went outside. Phil was worried about her, for obvious reasons. He'd been sitting near her at supper, and he heard and saw everything. Now get this. There were seven guys out there waiting, and Phil knew it. Half of them were bigger than he is, and they were all kind of tough-guy types and pretty vicious. First, he talked to—to the young woman, asking her to let him escort her again. She told him she would be fine on her own. So as soon as she had gone, he told the door monitor what was about to happen, asking him to call security. And when that was denied—I think he was told to mind his own business—he went out to follow her, in spite of being told he didn't have leave to go out at that hour. That was a serious offense, complete grounding for at least a day. What did he think he could do against seven of them? His explanation, later, was this: to try to distract them so that the girl could run while they were pounding him."

I broke in. "I can't let that pass without saying two things. First, one of these guys had bullied me from day one, three years and more, and this whole thing got me so mad that the chance to jump him from behind and seriously try to maim or kill him gave me courage. I don't believe in vengeance and taking things into your own hands, or rage that means you're out of control, really and truly, but I was so mad I didn't care. And second, I've never been so relieved in my life as when one of the security men grabbed me from behind, as I was sneaking along behind the girl in question. He told me to keep quiet and stay behind him and not do anything, because he was supposed to be there in case of trouble. So I wound up with a front-row seat, well, vantage point when they were arrested."

Art said, "That's pretty much the story. I should say that there was a trial, which we all had to attend, the whole four hundred some of our class, and that's how I know almost all of it." He added, to me, "Sam told me a little bit, too." Then he said, to everyone again, "If that makes Phil sound stupid, going out against those odds, he's not stupid. It was heroism, pure and simple. Go out and get badly hurt and maybe killed to give someone else a chance to escape, because there wasn't any other way."

People were quiet for a minute or two. Then Pete spoke up. He told, first, about how he and Tammy had come to me for help learning to really study, and what a difference that had made. He seconded what Art had said about our high school, saying that he'd seen that the academic standards were quite a lot higher than the university's.

But then he said, "I can attest to a couple of things Art told you, too. First, Phil's perception and observation. My girlfriend, Tammy, and I had some issues that made our relationship difficult. These were long-standing, and Phil could see something wasn't right, and then he just out of the blue identified what the problem was, what it involved. This was something we felt we needed to keep under wraps, but we were busted. But then, in the middle of a situation of their own that needed attention, Phil and Ellen took time out to talk to us about it, and gave us advice that cut straight to the core of our problem and solved it. Like Alexander and the Gordian knot, but for us it was a miracle. We were just walking on air for a long time. We've come down, now, but we're still just so happy about the whole thing!

"I shouldn't go into any detail, but I can tell you that both of them really are the most caring people I've ever met. And yep, trustworthy too. They promised us not to broadcast what our problem was, and they've been really careful about that. Phil's asked me to be one of his groomsmen, and I'm totally honored."

David described the time Ellen and I had set up, every week, to do Bible study with Kelly. He made it clear that he had checked with her to make sure it was all right for him to do so. He spoke of the growth he'd seen in Kelly over only a few months, and the contributions I'd made to the class—when he could get me to speak up.

After everyone who wanted to say something had done so, the guys from the church—and a couple of believers who weren't from that church, too—took time to pray for Ellen and me, and for the wedding. I'd been told ahead of time—the day before, when I was told that it was happening!—that this was the way they did bachelor parties, and it was obvious that people who knew I wasn't actually a believer wanted to give me a chance to ask them not to, if I thought I needed to.

I thought this, the later part of the event, surprised a lot of the guys who weren't believers, and that maybe the whole tone of the event impressed some of them. I'd started out dreading it, and it turned out to be a wonderful, meaningful time for me.

Men I never would have expected were there. Some classmates—friends, although not mostly that close—but they weren't the ones that, well, flabbergasted me. Those were the two guys I mostly worked with at the martial arts club every week, and especially my taekwondo instructor.

The first two were friends like most of the guys from my classes: nice, I liked them, but with no overlap between our lives besides one common activity. But my taekwondo teacher wasn't someone I thought I knew at all, or who knew me. He told me what to work on, set me partners to work with, gave me critique and encouragement, in a group setting—and by this time I thought he was doing a fabulous job at making me start to be able to defend myself. I admired his knowledge and skill, his ability to focus on the important things out of all the many things I did wrong, his absolute patience. But I didn't think of him as a friend or even a colleague.

How on earth had they even known there was a bachelor party for me? I hadn't even known until the day before, myself! But I felt honored just by their being there.

There had been one other strange part to the evening, obviously not a planned activity, and while it was happening I wasn't sure what to make of it. But afterward, especially as I described it to Ellen, I realized that it was liberating and encouraging.

The first part of the evening had been devoted to socializing and eating. Snacking—not a dinner, but someone had arranged for really nice snack food. Party food. And this was in the church's fellowship hall, and at some point I suddenly realized I hadn't arranged for this, and nobody had asked me to pay for it. Only after a minute or so did I realize that probably David had reserved the space, and that as a church member he was entitled to have a little party there, if he saw that things were cleaned up at the end. Someone had paid for food and beverages, of course, but that was probably all.

Anyway, there were enough guys that we were at several tables, with guys mostly sitting with others they knew. So church people in groups, a group of classmates at one table, and at the table I sat at, the martial artists, Art, Pete, David, and a couple of the others from Sunday School. Separate conversations, sometimes getting a little loud and boisterous. Probably most of it nothing much to do with me, at that.

But then, two of the guys at my table told stories about weddings and wedding receptions they had been at—not their own—where minor catastrophes had occurred. The more memorable one involved the ring being dropped, when the best man was handing it to the groom. It had hit, bounced, and rolled—off the platform and down under pews where people were sitting. A number of people had grabbed for it, but never quickly enough. It had finally come to rest under about the fourth pew, and someone had picked it up and held it up, and the best man had walked down the aisle to collect it. The pastor had said something ironic, not really funny in itself, apparently, but people had laughed and it broke the tension, and the ceremony went on.

Somehow, during these couple of stories, all the other conversations had died away, and everyone was listening. And then five or six others, at other tables, had contributed similar stories. The last of these I found unforgettable and also very much worth remembering. The man who told it wasn't even someone I knew. His son was in our Sunday School class, and he and his wife were visiting that weekend, so he had come along. And he apologized, pointing out that he really didn't know anyone, but he said he had something to share.

Maybe forty years earlier, he and his wife had gotten married. And two or three days before the ceremony, she—the bride-to-be—had come down with stomach flu—yes, doctors hate that term—some sort of pretty short-term but devastating virus producing vomiting and diarrhea, at any rate. She was over being ill by the wedding day, but she was still pretty weak. And the night before the wedding, he—the groom—had come down with it.

Well, the wedding couldn't really postponed. Apparently, it was a huge, Catholic wedding, their parents being very prominent and active members of Chicago's large Polish community. There were hundreds of people there for the wedding and reception, and no good way to announce that it was postponed if anyone had been willing to postpone it.

So twice during the wedding itself, the groom had turned and fled to the men's room. There was mercifully one almost right across the hall from the door he went out. Finally, they were safely married, and they recessed down the aisle. The location of the receiving line was quickly adjusted, farther down the hall so that the newlyweds were stationed immediately in front of the restrooms. He described the receiving line as endless repetitions of a short sequence: receive a few hugs, go in, throw up, return, and repeat. I admitted afterward to being curious how many of the guests later got sick themselves, but he didn't know. If anyone did, apparently no one blamed him.

The bride and groom put in an appearance at the reception, to get the serving of food started. She ate a little, but not too much, and he didn't eat at all. As soon as serving was firmly proceeding, they stole out, with a stop by the men's room on the way. Though by that time, the worst symptoms were about over.

They had been scheduled to go by limousine to a hotel several hours later, spend the night, and then fly off somewhere in the morning. Instead, they had the keys to her mother's car, and his bride drove them to her parents' house, and they fell into bed in her old bedroom about eight o'clock, and did nothing but sleep. Two days later, they did fly off wherever they were scheduled to go. The party had gone on into the wee hours. The bride and groom hadn't been missed, or not by many. He just said, "Well, it was a Polish wedding party."

He finished by saying, "I've gone through this in so much detail because there are some points it might be good for you to hear and think about. The first one is also the big one. I've known people who had all kinds of weddings, and some of them have gotten every detail under the bride's mother's thumb, and not one small thing has gone wrong—and in three or five years, they were divorced. The wedding isn't worth worrying about. What matters is the marriage. We're still married, and happy about it and about each other. We have plenty of reason to be proud of all our children, and they all are dedicated to serving God. The ones who are married are solidly married. The last two look like they will be, too, someday. And if they don't get married, they will be serving the Lord one way or another.

"Second, I got an early reminder that I wasn't in control of my life at all. None of us is. I hope you and your fiancée will have years and years together, but there's no absolute guarantee that she won't trip on her train going down the steps and be killed. Or any of a million other horrible things. You've got to trust the Lord, that whatever happens in this life, you're safe in his hands, if you know him and love him.

"Third, well, this is more for me. It's felt a lot like we got the worst out of the way right off, so nothing could ever be worse. Of course, worse things could happen, may happen, probably will happen eventually, but a lot of problems look a lot smaller when we remind each other of that wedding."

I stood up fast and thanked him, for the story and for the comments at the end. I said, "You're wrong about one thing. There's an absolute guarantee that Ellen won't trip on her train as we leave the wedding, because her dress isn't a long one and doesn't have a train." I paused for laughter to die down. "But of course your point stands, and it's a good one to remember. And again, thank you."

David then stood up and led us into what was intended to be a time for everyone, the chance to say things to me. I've already described that and the prayer time that followed.

It seems that in a women's shower—bridal or baby—a lot of the time is devoted to opening gifts. Not so this bachelor party. A few guys had gifts for me, though—all gag gifts.

All in all, an unexpectedly wonderful time.

I asked Joe and John, and my teacher, "How on earth did you hear and get invited? I don't mean that I'm not pleased and honored to have you here, not at all. I would have suggested you, if I had been making a list of people to invite, but I didn't know about it myself until dinnertime yesterday."

My teacher gave me an inscrutable Oriental smile. Even after all the experience I had with Ellen, and having spent a few days with her family, I still wasn't good at interpreting Chinese facial expressions. Even on Ellen, where they were mostly normal American expressions on a Chinese face. And he was Korean. But he said, "These two passed the invitation on to me, and I was glad of it. I admire you and your fiancée both, very much. You know, don't you, that if Ellen should take up taekwondo she will surpass you quickly?"

"Of course."

"But I wish to say, also, that I was glad to hear your friends honor you. It tells me that I am honored to be your teacher."

I thanked him. Joe told me, "I'm really glad I came, too. I was curious what a bachelor party in a church would be like. It was really different, and I liked it. But anyway, Ellen called me, and sent me a copy of the invitation, and asked me to pass it on to anyone who seemed reasonable. I assume that she snooped on your phone to get my number."

"Actually, no. I gave her both your numbers, in case of some emergency on Tuesday nights." Of course, she had Elise's number, but one person might be on the phone or something, and I thought three would be better.

I went around trying to thank pretty much everyone who had come. Especially those who had prayed for us. I was curious about John's father—the other John, not my taekwondo friend. But I didn't ask either of them how it happened that he had been married in a Catholic church, but his son was in a fundamental Bible church. He certainly wasn't uncomfortable with the environment. I never did get around to asking that. Too many possible answers for fruitful speculation. And not really my business—I have too much curiosity.

I went home to Ellen, and told her a lot about it. I told her about my reservations, and how wonderful it had been. She laughed at some of the disaster stories, and agreed. "Honey, I really hope we don't have that kind of problem, but John's father is right. If the wedding falls apart, if the reception falls apart, as long as we're married, it's good. What you told me he said is exactly right. It's not the wedding that matters, it's the marriage. Beyond that, well, for better or for worse. We hope it won't be worse, or not always, but I mean that."

I told her how much it had meant to me to have all these guys take time to pray for us. "A lot of them didn't pray out loud, but I'm sure they were praying along, and a bunch did. OK, I may still not be sure anyone is listening, but—I'm half sure, and it's a measure of their caring about me."

I told her that John and Joe and my instructor were there, and what my instructor had said. "I know that just taking time for the gymnastics work you're doing is a strain, Ellen. But you probably should bear in mind what he said. I already knew before he said it, though. And thank you for seeing that they got invited. I still can't believe they came!"

Three days before the wedding, friends started coming into town. Wednesday it was just Jenny and Sam. Ellen and I picked them up at the airport, and took them to Kelly's. They were staying with her. She had a couch that unfolded, too, and she had found a cot somewhere. I decided that this time around I was glad not to know what the sleeping arrangements would turn out to be—I had been really glad that at my parents' sleeping in the same bed hadn't been a problem for them, and I suspected they each would prefer that to a cot this time, but I didn't ask.

They came to dinner, and we talked. We were mostly up to date on the important things that had been happening—though as usual, Jenny hadn't said much about what was going on with Jesse. The vibes I got from her weren't good, though. And she hadn't brought him along, though we'd made clear that the invitation was for her and an escort, even if she hadn't been in the wedding itself. Sam had said up front that there wasn't anyone, and that she didn't feel she needed to add a stranger to our list. We talked about the wedding and about our honeymoon plans, summer jobs, and a lot of things.

At the end, as we cleaned up, Sam came over to me. She hugged me, and gave me a fairly serious kiss—not steamy, but extended. Ellen was right there, of course. When Sam let me go, she stepped back and said, "Ellen, thanks for not interfering. Phil, I hope that wasn't arousing enough to be hard on you, but if it was, you'll just have to live with it. And I know that it was exactly the kind of thing you've promised not to do with anyone except her—and Jenny and me. After the wedding, I promise never to kiss you like that again, too.

"You know I'm really happy that you two are getting married. But I can't help wishing, just a little, that it could be me. I don't really see how I'll ever get married, because anyone I might marry is going to be second best, and how could I do that to someone?" She was crying, just a little, and I took her and held her for a minute. This was just tearing my heart to shreds. Ellen definitely wasn't second best, but I still loved Sam tremendously.