The Humper Game Pt. 07 Ch. 03

One of them was Professor Bailey. He knew me pretty well, from the two classes I had taken from him, and I thought probably that he was responsible for my getting this job, which was the kind a graduate student would probably normally be doing. The other, Professor Harding, mostly taught grad students. I'd met him but no more, but it was plain he had heard about me—either as one who helped get other students really thinking about the material, or as one who was a disruptive influence on the smooth flow of a course—and he was somewhat skeptical of my ability. I'm not going to say much more about my job, so right now I'll say that at least mostly I won Professor Harding over. I worked eight hours most days, but there were times when I was able to take a couple of hours off, perhaps once a week. And toward the end of the summer, I put in some evenings, too. The work was interesting and educational as well. I learned a lot from it, and would be able to point that out to possible employers or whatever, as well.

Later in the summer, in fact, I was asked to read early drafts of the project and offer editorial suggestions. Some were no more than correcting typos, but others were more substantive. In the end, I got credit in an acknowledgment for help "without which this book would be a much poorer one." Generic, but something I would be able to point to in the future. I could honestly say, the real work was theirs, but I had helped a lot with gathering the data and with cleaning up their writing—and I knew they would both back me up.

Ellen's job, on the other hand, had very irregular hours. She was attending counseling sessions and interviews with a professional—a professor in her department who also had a private practice. Or perhaps it wasn't exactly private. She was definitely being instructed and trained—hence the low rate of pay, I thought. At first, she was just introduced to the clients as a student helping the professor, and she merely took notes and wrote them up, and then met daily with the professor to discuss her notes and the cases. As the summer went on, she was sometimes the primary one interacting with the clients. Their meetings were not always at the same time, and of course the sessions were geared to the clients' schedules, often in the evenings, often on Saturdays, occasionally as many as three then. She put her foot down about Sundays, in fact, saying that she needed one day committed to me and to other things.

We didn't make a lot of money, and we spent a lot of time, but in spite of everything it was in many ways a blissful summer. I never did figure out why being married was so different from living together with a privately-expressed commitment. Admittedly, that hadn't been binding until death, but I didn't think that was the issue. The money was helpful, too.

As she had promised, Jenny called to say she had talked to Jesse. The call was pretty long, and kind of rambling. She said, "Both of you, thank you for your advice. At least for now, we're still on, and I think it's mostly because of what you said to me. And maybe Sam's prayers, and anyone else's that you may have asked to pray for me, too.

"This was a really, really long call. I called him, and I told him we needed to talk, about where we were and where we're going. But I started off trying to confess to every part of things that's my fault, and I had spent a lot of time thinking about that, making an outline even. I reminded him of what I had told him about my fight with you, and then my fight with Brian. I said that I'd wanted to let you go with all those other girls, and why, and I meant that—but that I'd been afraid to say what I really needed so that you could understand. I told him that if I'd been clear with you, you almost certainly would have cut back to Sam and me, and very occasionally someone else, and I'd been afraid to do that. And then, with Brian, I'd put off and put off saying I needed more sleep, because I could already see that he didn't care about me. If I'd been smart and brave enough to insist right away, he would have dumped me—but I wouldn't have put you through so much, and you and I might have really fixed things. By the time I'd kept you hanging and hanging, you tried your best, but you could never trust me completely.

"So I said, I need to be clear with you, but there's no guarantee of whether it will help us make things work or make it clear things can't work—but either of those is better than pretending things are working when they're not.

"I told him I was sorry I hadn't insisted on things when I should, but I also told him about everything else I could think of, big and small, that I'd done wrong with him.

"And then I said, Jesse, you see I have a lot of the blame for things. But I need you to take responsibility where you're at fault, too. And I was going to give him a few samples, but he interrupted me.

"He said, right up front, that I was right, he hadn't been doing that. He said we'd need to talk about the details of some things, but I was right about a lot, and he wanted to go through the ones he'd thought of with me before I said any more. He said he'd been feeling really discouraged, so he'd described the situation as he saw it to his mother, and also to an old friend he really trusted for good advice. And they both told him he was out of his mind.

"The first thing, and maybe the biggest, was the chlamydia. He had been sure he was clean, and that somehow I gave it to him and then blamed him. And they both told him that if I said all that about how we were isolated, and tested every time we went home—for STDs and also other physical issues—then he needed to decide. If I was untrustworthy enough to lie about all that, it should have shown up in all kinds of ways, he should have seen it and avoided me right off. But they told him that he'd had unprotected sex enough that it was really likely he had caught it before, and just never had any symptoms. He still didn't have any, but the test showed it was there, after all. And he said he had to admit they were right, and he apologized up and down. He said his mom especially had told him off at length on that one.

"They also both told him he was crazy for resenting you—Phil, I mean. He had to admit that I'd told him from the beginning that I still loved you, but that it was clear that Ellen was the one you should have and were going to have. I had told him that I really wanted one or two more times with you, but that then that would be over forever, and that in the meantime I was looking for a long term relationship, exclusive except for one or two times with you before I let you go. They didn't say he should have just accepted that, only that if he couldn't accept it he should have said up front that it was a deal breaker.

"So we agreed to try to start over. We've agreed to no flirting or dating with anyone else, and to see if we can get together once or twice during the summer. And thank you both for your advice. Phil, you were absolutely right. If I had started out the way I did with Brian, or even more the way I went after you, it would have been a disaster no matter what Jesse had been going to say. Ellen, you're right, I've still got to live out my end of it. I've already had to tell two men I'm working with that I'm not available for any kind of date. And Jesse even says that he understands that you're my good friend and nothing more, now, and that you won't let it ever be more than that. I need to be a little careful, but next time I get time to see you I'll want to make sure he's there. When he sees you with Ellen, I think he'll understand that a little better.

"I don't know whether Sam's prayers, or anyone else's, are part of it, but I had been really sure Jesse would just wind up being the same as Brian. You know. 'If you're going to whine about what you've got, just get lost.' Being willing to start off saying I'd been at fault, too—not being willing to make up my mind and stick with it—that let him go on and say what he did, but he came into that call ready to say it was his fault too. So I have to say, even if I don't really believe at all, if you have anyone praying, please tell them not to stop. I've got to change, a lot, and I'm still afraid of it.

"This summer is going to be really hard, I miss him and I miss you and Sam, still, and the guys who've already asked me out are really nice. I guess one test for me is going to be whether I can not just keep my pants on, but be open and friendly without flirting or thinking about how nice they would be.

"I don't see how you two managed six months together with no sex, but I'll try to keep that in mind to encourage me that it's possible."

She finally ran down. I waited to make sure she really had stopped, but also to think. I was trying to learn from the way I'd seen Pastor Mac listen and consider. On the other hand, over the phone I needed to not wait too long.

"Jenny, that's wonderful news! Yes, of course we'll ask Kelly to keep praying, and Uncle John and Aunt Sally. We had asked Kelly specifically to pray about you and Jesse. At the wedding, she saw that you were happy for us, but that there was something holding you back.

"And I'm almost tempted to say, 'You got better than you had hoped or dreamed you would, so why aren't you happy?' but I think I know the answer. Remember me with Sam. We don't know the future on this, but for now, it sounds like you can trust Jesse to mean what he said. Take that with joy and thanksgiving. As you want more now, for yourself, well, take it day by day.

"But I'm going to remind you of one more thing I think you've forgotten, a little. Sometime soon after our first time, you told me that you'd really kind of fallen for me, freshman year. I was totally unaware of that at the time. And some of that was just that, well, I liked you a lot, but hadn't thought of you that way, so I wasn't paying attention. But part of it was that you looked at the situation and saw that saying anything, or letting your feelings show at all, wouldn't do any good at all—not because of me, but because of the rules we had to live with at that point. So you were willing to hold back, and just be one of many friends, for three years—without knowing whether there could ever be more. And that was just good sense.

"So I know you can do it. I think that in your place, I would have felt I had to say something. Well, maybe not. A bit later on my feelings for Claire and Moira were kind of parallel, and I managed to be friends without saying anything. But anyway, you were always friendly and nice, to me and to everyone, without making any move to ask for more. Remember that. I'm sure it was sometimes painful and frustrating, but you did it, and you can do it now. This time you've got a commitment to something for the future, anyway."

Ellen spoke in much the same vein, except that she was better able to sound excited about it. Jenny needed that, but right then I couldn't give it to her. I meant every word I'd said, but I thought it was the same as it had been with me and Sam—for both me and Jenny, there was some fear that it wasn't really settled. I was just going to have to encourage her as best I could, and really hope that she and Jesse would both change as needed.

One thing that felt kind of strange was not having more regular sessions with Pastor Mac. Well, of course they were premarital counseling, and we were married now! But they had been a regular feature for six months.

We knew he normally didn't do anything like that many sessions with couples. I, at least, had kept waiting for him to say, "That's the last I have for you," but somehow he never did, until three weeks before the wedding—and then it was really due to schedule conflict on our part. I knew I should ask him about this, but I never did. We had, after two months or so, exhausted the prepared materials he gave us—readings, questionnaires, and so on. But he kept asking us more questions and making more comments, always things we hadn't talked about—or even thought about in the form he raised them, most of the time. Truly, as time went on, I was very thankful for those meetings. I was glad not to have the time committed any more, but I missed the insights we'd gained.

One Sunday afternoon, I brought something up to Ellen that had been bothering me for a long time—that is, it would bother me when something reminded me, and I would forget about it before I ever worked at it. But this time, I remembered long enough at least to talk to her about it.

"Hon, how well do you remember that bit in Kim, about the Play of the Jewels?"

"Only vaguely, I think. Why? But if it really relates to something, you'd probably better remind me, first."

I found the book on line. It wasn't one I'd ever felt I needed to own, in paper form. I looked a little more until I found the place.

"Hmm. It's a little more involved than I was thinking, I guess, coming into it. I hope I get enough context to remind you." We'd had to read some Kipling for classes, in high school, of course. We already knew that for the most part I was much more fond of him than Ellen was, so it wasn't surprising that she didn't remember this small passage even as badly as I did. "Here goes. ' . . . from a drawer under the table dealt a half handful of clattering trifles into the tray. . . . '" I read on to the place where Kim asked, "Truly. But how is it done?" and Lurgan Sahib answered, "By doing it many times over till it is done perfectly—for it is worth doing." Really, a very short passage.

Ellen had been lying down on the couch, but now she sat up and looked at me. "OK, that brings it back a little more. And we both know that all kinds of skills are learned through drill. Your taekwondo is probably the most obvious example. But I'm missing your point."

"Um. I'm sure you remember when John Miles came to see us, when we were just back from getting engaged."

"OK, now I see what you're thinking. I keep thinking of it, too. And we've been really busy, you know that, and it never seemed urgent enough to pursue it. But he was right, and you're right, it's important. It's just too easy to leave it on the back burner. So what do you want me to do? As I remember it, John put the burden on my shoulders. Anything I can do to help you be more observant is likely to help. How like him! But what exactly am I supposed to do?"

"That's where that bit of Kim came in, as I've been thinking of it. Two things have come up over and over. I tend to notice people's behavior and manner—I guess facial expressions and body language. It's not exactly conscious, most of the time. But things like clothes, jewelry, hair, grooming, those tend to get missed. I may notice someone's tall or short, and usually skinny or heavy if it's extreme, but not how tall or how skinny, say—unless it really is extreme. Or unless it comes up, somehow. I mean, I really realized just how tall Scott Davidson is when they told us how short Lynda is, because I really looked at him for a moment and thought about how hard that must have made some things for them." Ellen gave me a smile, and I knew she understood what kind of things I meant.

"The other one may largely be a result of that one. I have trouble knowing how old people are. Bella's probably the extreme case, but there are plenty. I could see that Aunt Sally and Uncle John were older than I'd expected Sam's aunt and uncle to be, but not really how old they were—I was wondering whether they were great uncle and great aunt, and I guess they really are almost that old. I think maybe Bella, well, acted young, whereas they moved a little more carefully, as if balance were a bit of an issue, things like that, but I don't know."

"As usual, you're very insightful. I wouldn't be at all surprised if you're right about that difference, and see, I didn't even think about that. But still, what do you want me to do?"

"I'm kind of hoping you have a better idea, but here's what I was thinking. Not constantly, but pretty often, when we've, oh, been talking to someone, or passed someone with time to look, take time to quiz me on the things I normally miss. You may have to start out with warning me in advance, sometimes, so I can try to pay attention. The way Kim couldn't keep detailed track, to start with, even when he was allowed to look all he wanted, first. But make me say in detail what the person looked like, what he or she was wearing, and drill me at that, over and over.

"For the age thing, maybe plan sometimes to think about someone's age, someone we expect to be talking to, and discuss it afterward. Get my opinion, and then tell me not just what age you think the person is, but why. And then at least sometimes ask the person, afterward. I don't know.

"Again, though, maybe just being better at noticing details of someone's appearance may give me enough of a boost on this. Oh, for example, take Bella again. I initially thought decades too young. I kept raising my estimate. The first time was on the basis of something she told me, I admit. But it wasn't until I washed her hair in the shower that I noticed a little gray in her hair. You probably saw that right off."

"Go ahead, enjoy remembering showering with another woman! But you're right. She didn't have very much gray, for her age, but I saw it right off. No need to do what you undoubtedly did." She smiled at me, really big.

"Tease me more about that, and I'll carry you off and ravish you, I warn you."

"Oh, good! Let's see . . . 'Yes, there are the remains of a fine woman about Bella, Phil.'"

Well, that was the end of the conversation, but Ellen did start quizzing me about details of people's appearance. Clothes, jewelry, hair, height, weight, wrinkles, you name it. It was horribly frustrating, and I was never anywhere near as good at it as she was, but over time I did improve. And, ultimately, when we started trying me on people's ages, I was way, way better than I used to be.

The fourth Saturday in July the regular contradance was held. We had missed the June dance, for excellent reasons. Everyone who was there and who knew us knew we'd gotten married, and so we got a lot of attention. Many of them had come to the wedding, but not many to the reception. Joanne was one of those—we had seriously considered putting her on the list for the reception—and you would have thought we were her daughter and son in law, the way she hovered that evening. Not for the first time, I wished I knew some really nice, single men her age that I could point in her direction. Of course, I knew nothing at all about why she and her husband had divorced, so doing that would have been just asking for disaster.

Since she, and many of the others, had spoken to us and seen the wedding rings after the wedding, the questions we got were mostly about the honeymoon. We surprised people with our description of where we had stayed. We managed to make it clear that this had been close to ideal, from our point of view, and that our hosts had wanted to do more for us and we were the ones who declined. We remained vague about why Pete and Tammy and their folks had felt they owed us a lot, but most of these people knew them well and had seen the change in them beginning about the time they had brought us. That didn't do anything at all to dampen their curiosity, of course, but they mostly recognized that no one was explaining what was behind it all.

We hadn't come for the beginner teaching time, though we were a little early. There wasn't as much time as people wanted for talking to us before the dance began. But someone had spoken to the caller and the band, because when the sets were arranged, the caller said, "We want to start out welcoming a couple who haven't been here before. Mr. and Mrs. Phil Morris!" And the band broke into the Wagner wedding march, from Lohengrin. Pretty briskly, played as a march for a contra, Sixteen bars' worth, counted the way it would be for a dance. Almost right away, I grabbed Ellen, and we swung for the duration. When we stopped, she told me—loud enough to be heard—"Any more of that and I'll be too dizzy to dance!" That got some applause. I could tell she was only half kidding, though.