The Humper Game Pt. 07 Ch. 08

She sounded really broken up, but she wasn't crying at that point, and I felt that simply holding her to comfort her wasn't the way to go then. I wished I knew what was, though. I tried to think what to say.

Nobody said any more as we finished eating. Ellen got up and got dessert—our standard fallback, cookies and ice cream—and Jenny and I cleared the dishes into the sink. I detoured to the living room, coming back with a Bible and also some paper.

"I could quote this, or pretty much, and seventeenth-century English isn't beyond you, but it will work better with this, I think. I'm afraid it isn't a direct answer, not at all, to what you asked a couple of times. It's talking about wisdom, too, but I'm pretty sure that in the view of these people self-control was just one part of that, and a basic one. That comes out in Proverbs, over and over. And even before I really believed, I didn't have a better answer than this. If you'd asked me that question that way, I probably would have read this, even then." I opened to the twenty-eighth chapter of Job, gave a little context, and read it—the whole chapter.

Then I said, "OK, in a couple of proverbs and in one of the psalms, it says that's the beginning of wisdom—or knowledge—and here it talks like it's the whole of wisdom. And here's a bit more from Proverbs, too." I turned to the fourth chapter and read the beginning section. "So what's the point of that?

"Oh, I should say, in Hebrew, 'wisdom,' like a lot of abstract nouns, is feminine, and so it was natural to portray wisdom figuratively as a woman, as here and many other places in Proverbs. But what is it saying here that you have to do to be wise?"

It apparently took Jenny a moment to realize that I meant this as a real question she was to answer, not a rhetorical one I asked just so I could answer it. She said, "Let me see that, please." I handed the Bible to her, pointing out the sections I had read. She looked at it for a long couple of minutes. Then she said, "What you're getting at is that I have to make up my mind that I really want to be wise—or self-controlled—is that it? That I have to care about self-control for its own sake, not just for keeping me out of trouble?"

"That's actually more than I was thinking, but I think you've got the general idea.

"But as far as the chapter from Job, I had something specific in mind, beyond that. Pastor touched on this, and then I fumbled around with it in the car. It's not that anyone, any human being, at all perfectly exemplifies self-control, or any of the rest of the fruit of the Spirit. And it's not that non-Christians never exemplify them to some degree—sometimes quite a lot. But even so, the fear of the Lord is a key. Maybe even the key, the one really essential thing. That's what this chapter seems to say, for sure."

She looked at me for a moment. "Phil, remind me, what was the passage that hit you so hard? And yours, too, Ellen?"

"The church where I was in the cross-hairs used the King James only, and that's what I know, of course. But let's try it from this, instead." I found the passage, Jeremiah chapter nine. "'Thus says the Lord: "Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches, but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the Lord."' I know it as 'glory in,' but either way it means something like 'take pride in.'"

"I can sure see what hit you in that. Not riches, I think, and probably not might."

Before I could answer or turn pages, Ellen spoke up. "Mine was this: 'So I went down to the potter's house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter's hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do. Then the word of the Lord came to me: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? declares the Lord. Behold, like the clay in the potter's hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel."' And that was it, not the King James, in that sermon—it wasn't the same church. This was Pastor Mac—who married us, whom you met at the wedding—the first time we heard him preach."

I hadn't known she had memorized that, but I shouldn't have been surprised—meditating on a passage and memorizing it kind of work hand in hand. I was, somehow, though. Ellen went on, "Remember how much having a vision had frightened me? Phil told me the answer to that, OK, but this really was the problem for me. Was I really ready to accept that I wasn't the one in control? Even that, well, if I willfully went my own way, God would make what he wanted of me anyway?"

"Maybe I should just be relieved that I just heard a sermon on self-control, then," Jenny said. "But I sure see what was bothering you at that point, Phil. If there's a God who can arrange things like this, for Sam and you two and for me, then my real issue isn't self-control, is it? No, I'm fine, really!" I had started to get up again. She sure didn't look or sound quite OK at that moment, not to me, anyway! "But if I ever do find the right man, I hope he'll be that quick to jump to comfort me when I need it."

I sat back down and said, "The point I was making originally still applies, though, Jenny. If you want self-control, you will have to decide that you want it more than having some guy hold you and care about you. By this time, once you get that far, stopping will get really hard. Though I had the question of fearing the Lord in mind, too."

She hesitated. "Ellen, how did you ever stand it for six months? I know you weren't avoiding having Phil hold you."

Ellen hesitated even more. "I think it's a whole bunch of things. One of them is that I really did trust Phil. If he thought we needed to do this, he was probably right. I have to say, when I realized I was trying to hold God at arm's length, it really hit me that if I could trust Phil, trusting God should be a lot easier. I was planning to promise to obey Phil, too, and it didn't seem right to say, 'Well, we haven't gotten up and said that in front of everyone yet, so I'm not committed yet.'

"I'd already promised never to say no to Phil about sex, and at some point he had asked, did I mean I wouldn't say no to no sex as well? I had thought about it and said yes. At that point, we were thinking of during my period, of course—just a few days a month—but I couldn't see any reason besides my own selfishness to dig in my heels later after I'd promised that.

"But also, the reason Pastor Mac had given us made sense. If we were basically going to act like we had the right to consider ourselves married, we didn't need the kind of wedding we thought we needed.

"I don't mean it wasn't really hard, for both of us! We told you about the one time I had to get up out of bed, and I was so frustrated I took it out on Phil. He tried to make me let him be the one to get up, and I wouldn't. I disobeyed." She looked at me apologetically—but nowhere near tears, I was pleased to see. "But we did avoid pushing the physical contact, and we didn't shower together or get dressed or undressed together, all that. You're right, we didn't avoid holding each other, but we kept it a little light and brief. More than a little. That one night, well, there were a lot of things—remembering with you and Sam, after having told Mom and Dad about how we started, too—but you saw the bed we were in. Avoiding physical contact was just impossible. But I managed because I couldn't stand to hurt Phil that way, and he would have insisted if I'd tried, if he were awake enough.

"Phil really was ready to sleep on the couch for six months, if that's what it took. All that's just common sense, but it could work because I had Phil. Because Phil's the one I had, I mean."

We all just sat for a bit, and then Ellen got up and started making coffee and tea. I said, "I gave you the answers I did because I really don't have anything better. You're really going to have to decide what's important, and learn to stick to it, somehow. I'll offer you one thing, which may or may not help.

"Twice now, you've made yourself do something you knew you should, but were afraid to, by promising me you were going to. A couple of other times, promising me didn't seem to do any good. It may have made a difference that you weren't promising me for that reason, those times. And they weren't the same kind of promise—I will do this specific thing by this specific time—either.

"Anyway, if you want, feel free to call me and promise me something you're doubting you can do. Subject to the same issues about my being available to talk. But I also warn you, if you ever fail to keep such a promise to me, I'll probably say I'm no longer available for that. Subject to having it actually turn out to be impossible, or something. OK, case by case judgment, but I really mean it.

"The other thing I'll do is this. I'll make a little list of passages the pastor used in his sermon, that seem relevant. Things in Judges, especially Samson. He made references to more of the account of Samson than he read, of course, it's not short. I'll give you a couple of maybe-relevant bits, too, such as the brief mention of Samson in Hebrews 11—he's just one name in a list, but frankly that whole chapter might be worth your thinking about in this regard. And the bits I read you a few minutes ago. And another person I'm surprised Pastor didn't bring in—Esau. He may yet, of course! I mean both the section of Genesis and also what it says about him in Hebrews 12. I'll just say now that you probably remember that Esau was Israel's brother, but maybe not that his descendants—under his other name, Edom—didn't get along well with Israel. Sibling rivalry through many generations, I guess.

"I'll need to look these things up to get specific verses. Mostly I know the chapters as whole units."

Jenny and Ellen talked quietly as I did that. Some of it was relevant and I should have listened better to all of it, but I needed to pay attention to what I was doing. The one thing I managed to follow at all was something Ellen was saying, relating to Jenny's report of what Brian had told her. I wished later that I'd stopped for a minute to really listen. She seemed to be saying that any time anyone told us we weren't being treated right—that we were entitled to something—we needed to really question it, that it often amounted to a subtle attack on whoever supposedly owed us better treatment. She took it back to the temptation of Eve in the Garden as an example and archetype. Jenny said that she thought that was a really good example. What Brian had said hadn't helped her at all, it just made her dissatisfied with me. And Ellen pointed out the difference between that and what Jenny had said the time Ellen called her, in the middle of our fight—how Jenny's concern had been to help get Ellen and me back together. It was the difference between, "You're entitled to better from Phil," and, "Phil's entitled to better from you," I thought. But I tried to pay attention to what I was supposed to be doing.

When I was done, I handed the list of passages, with some annotations, to Jenny. "Here. Use it or not, as you think best. I put down the church's URL there, too, in case you want to listen to more sermons. That's up to you—it all is, of course." Jenny folded the paper and went right off to put it in her suitcase and came back.

I said, "You weren't quite right, earlier, I think. I'm guilty of glorying in being wise—taking pride in it, maybe boasting of it. Sure. Sometimes even when I'm not wise! But if the others aren't quite in the bull's-eye, well, I've had some uncomfortable times meditating on them, too, since that sermon. I take for granted that we can afford what we need, and usually what we really want, without having to do without other things. Maybe I don't quite glory in it, but it's still a little too close to home.

"As for might, well, from seeing that word in context a lot of times, yes, it mostly meant physical strength and especially fighting ability. And you know I'm no big bodybuilder or anything, and that I despise guys who fight a lot, who see that as a good way to solve problems, or with a chip on their shoulders. My women even have to keep pushing to make sure I stay in shape. But I worry about whether I'm too proud of my strengths—in more figurative meanings of that word."

When I didn't go on, Ellen said, "And it doesn't say that the wise man doesn't have enough wisdom to be proud of, or the rich man enough riches, or the mighty man enough strength. Partly, I think, you're supposed to be humble and recognize that in large measure none of those are your doing, that you shouldn't let them prop up your ego—and you mostly don't, Phil! But there, in that passage, the focus is that there's something a lot more basic that you should be striving for. Knowing and understanding God, knowing his mercy, justice, and righteousness—and I think that means seeking to be like him in those. 'For in these things I delight.' That's a tall order, Phil, and there are lots of really godly people out there, but you do work at it."

I didn't know what to say, so I kept quiet. Jenny looked thoughtful.

After a few minutes, Jenny asked, "OK, I've had to kind of drag things out of you twice now. What would you be doing on a Sunday afternoon, that you aren't because I'm here?"

Ellen looked at me and laughed. I said, "It varies, a lot, but after a night like last night, probably a nap. Yes, probably with what Ellen was thinking of either before or after. Sometimes we go see Mom and Dad, and with you here we would for sure, except they're not here now. I know Mom will be especially sorry to have missed you." I was surprised at how much Mom had liked several of our high-school friends she met at the wedding, but she had gotten to know Sam and Jenny just a little when we got engaged, and she often asked after them.

Ellen said, "We could take her to meet Aunt Betty, if it's a good time for them."

I felt kind of stupid. I should have thought of that. Since we were back in the area, Ellen and I had occasionally gone to see some of my aunts and uncles. It was kind of a big deal, emotionally, on both sides. I looked inquiringly at Jenny, and when she nodded I got busy with my phone.

"Aunt Betty, it's Phil. Do you and Uncle Jim have some time to spare this afternoon, when we could stop by?"

"That would be great, Phil! Is there some special occasion?"

"One of our friends from high school came to visit this weekend, one we told you about, and Ellen suggested you'd enjoy meeting her. I'm afraid I didn't think, or I'd have called before now."

"Joe and Mary are here, too. Is that OK?"

"We'd love that. Probably better not to face her with any more this time, though."

We got going as quickly as we could, leaving the dishes in the sink. I hated that, but I had needed attention for what we were saying, earlier, and I'd been making that list, too.

Aunt Betty, Uncle Jim, Uncle Joe, and Aunt Mary were all there. We had brought Ellen's copy of Sam's first drawing, but they all remembered Jenny from that and from the wedding video. They knew the significance of the drawing, but they all understood about forgiveness and reconciliation at least as well as I did, and they knew that Jenny was here as a very dear friend. They had seen her as one of Ellen's bridesmaids in the video, and that said something of how much she meant to us. OK, I guess there are some weddings where bridesmaids are chosen partly because someone will feel hurt or insulted if someone is left out, but not ours.

Not surprisingly—to anyone who had ever visited her, at least—Aunt Betty had light refreshments ready. We sat around the kitchen table to talk. They all knew Ellen and I were expecting, so we got some questions about her health, but most of the conversation focused on Jenny.

She established what they knew, and then told them what she had been doing since high school—what she had studied at the university, and where she was now and what she was doing since graduation. She said more about Jesse than I would have felt comfortable telling in her absence, without really digging through the details, explaining why she was visiting us that weekend.

Aunt Betty said, "Phil, you said you hadn't thought of bringing Jenny to meet us, but even if you had, you couldn't have known in advance whether she would be up to meeting a group of strangers. Jenny, I can imagine how it hurts, even knowing that he's not someone to go on with. I hope it isn't too abstract to be comforting if I say that in a few years this is all likely to seem rather minor—if you let it, and it sounds like you will. But I'm so sorry that you got put through all that."

Jenny said, "Thank you, and I do know that. This weekend has been so much better than the weekend I had expected! The last time I saw Phil and Ellen was on their honeymoon." She gave me a wry grin, one I'd once had reason to be concerned about whenever I saw it. "That was right after he almost got arrested for assault and battery."

Well, we hadn't told them about that, so we had to explain. And for some reason Ellen still had the video on her phone, so she transferred it and we all watched it. Then I had to explain about doing taekwondo. I also explained why Ellen wasn't doing gymnastics at that point, but I played a little video I had of her.

We stayed later than we should have, so we kind of left in a hurry. Well, we didn't need to eat supper when we got home, after a largish dinner midday and then everything Aunt Betty pressed on us. As we drove home, Ellen told Jenny, "I really am starting to need naps, but I'm glad we did that instead. We don't see Phil's relatives often enough, and they really enjoyed meeting you."

But when we got home, Jenny said, "I know you both need to get to bed, but I have a request, and I'm sorry, it will take time if you're willing. Phil, once when I really needed it you gave me a back rub. And then Ellen, and later Ginny Milliken." Ellen looked a little surprised at that last, and I said, "Later." Of course, she knew who Ginny was and at least that she had been one of my occasionals. She was there when Ginny came and asked the girls—not me!—for one last time with me, after graduation but before we—the students—all left.

Jenny went on, "Anyway, would you please do that again? The back rub and nothing more, I promise. And I won't strip down completely, and I think just my back, so we'll both avoid temptation from anything lower. Ellen, I know you'll have to sign off on this, too. It will definitely arouse me some, but I promise I'll control myself somehow, and it probably will arouse Phil, too, but you're the one who will get any benefit there is from that."

I looked at Ellen. "It's pretty late," I said.

"We may not see Jenny for years. Phil, if you're comfortable, go ahead. Except, wait a minute. Jenny, come with me."

They went into our bedroom, and came out a couple of minutes later. Jenny was down to her bra on top, and a pair of panties that I was sure were Ellen's. She was carrying her skirt and blouse, and a pair of bikini panties, pretty scanty I thought. Ellen said, "Do her legs, too. Don't take as long as you probably did that first time, certainly not as long as you did with me." I went and hugged her.

Jenny lay down on the floor, prone, and Ellen unfastened her bra and laid the straps to the sides. Now, I'd never had any training in massage, and I knew I didn't have skill, but each of the times I'd done this the goal was relaxation and trust, not treatment of aching muscles or anything like that, and all three times I'd accomplished that. The other times, I was nude, and it was partly foreplay, but this time I stayed dressed. Relaxation, and trust, and comfort.