Storiesonline.net
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                           Revenge of the Nerd
                                by RPSuch

Copyright© 2010 by RPSuch


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Description: An insanely hot girl is introduced to a nerd who shakes up her life. She has such difficulty dealing with him she has to stoop to sincerity. For the first time in a relationship she is not in control and has to decide if it's worth the risk. (Restatement of the original and continution)

Codes: MF rom
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This starts with the edited version of the original Revenge of the Nerd which is broken up into 11 chapters. I thought it would look stupid to have the original, in effect chapter 1, followed by chapter 12.

I regularly receive feedback on Nerd and recently reread it. I liked it. I liked it enough to post more of what is already written, though not completed. I haven't decided whether to change the pacing to make it a book, or to post the whole thing online, so don't have any expectations except that a lot more will be posted.

I also posted because I was not allowed to post the first four chapters of Circumstantial Evidence, the only four I ever plan to post, so I'm using these posts (with additional chapters) to suggest you visit my site (url in my profile) and check it out, as well as my author photos and other goodies I not have yet conceived.

Revenge of the Nerd is posted there as well and will always be a chapter or two ahead of the posts on any other site since I have complete control of it.

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Chapter 1


Perhaps I should have been an actress

Up until my junior year in college I played every role impeccably, until I met him.

I played the compliant daughter of wealthy, socially-connected parents so well, neither of them had an inkling I might have wanted something else, let alone chafed under the expectation.

I played the supremely confident, breathtakingly beautiful girl who had absolute power over any man, and absolute power corrupted me absolutely. It helped me play the quintessential queen of the popular crowd. Supplicants lined up to offer me things, do things for me, just for the opportunity to bask in my presence.

Watch any teen movie. I was the one hated by the vast majority of the other girls. I could see it in their faces. But when you're playing that role, you can't show any indecision, you can't even feel any in their presence: it might show.

I think it's an interesting commentary on the values of our society, and not a little disturbing, that the age is getting ever lower when boys are worshipped as athletes and given special treatment.

It's down to seventh grade in basketball. Middle schools try to recruit the top players away from their neighborhoods, even supplying bogus addresses so they can play for them. These guys don't have much academic pressure either. They get all the help they need, including alteration of grades to keep them eligible.

What do they learn from this? That they are special; that the rules don't apply to them; that almost any kind of behavior they engage in will be tolerated as long as they continue to contribute to victory.

The result for those who don't make it as professional athletes is predictably disastrous: They never learn to control their impulsive behavior; they are not equipped to do anything and often suffer the rest of their lives as a result.

What has this got to do with me, little more than a mere slip of a girl, you may ask? Nothing, really, except you may not realize there is a similar situation for a small number of girls.

We're not necessarily intelligent. We don't excel at athletics. We just have the one personal characteristic most valued by our society - we look good, very good.

I am the archetypal example. I started to notice it in grade school. Guys would offer to provide all kinds of services to me just for the favor of my time. They would carry my books, do my homework and offer to beat each other up, though how that was supposed to be of any value to me I never quite understood.

As I moved up to middle school and high school, I was more revered than our star power forward. I was prom queen not only for the junior and senior proms, but the write-in vote picked me senior prom queen when I was a sophomore, though the principal disallowed it.

In high school I got even better service. Guys did my homework, wrote my papers, wrote my book reports, chauffeured me wherever my fancy desired, bought me things just because I wanted them and granted any other whim that came into my mind.

A perfect example was this nerd named Bill. I mockingly took to calling him Little Willie in a sing song voice just to let him know his place.

Despite the fact that he was younger, he would prep me for tests. He was absolutely amazing. He didn't just go over the material with me. He analyzed it, came up with the questions most likely to be asked on the test and wrote the answers most likely to be successful for the style of the teacher.

How did I reward him for these services? The way I did everyone else: I let him provide them. He got to spend time to bask in my presence.

He foolishly thought he might be entitled to more than that. He asked me out to a movie.

I could have been cruel. I could have told him I was so far out of his league that no matter what he did the rest of his life he would never catch up.

But I was kind. I just told him he was too immature and that when he grew up he could consider asking me again.

The majority of these services were provided by nerds and other lesser individuals, but the elite were not immune to my charms. The quarterback and the star forward had their pick of girls, except me.

With most of the other girls, not only did they have a reasonable expectation that sex would be provided, they could name the particular sex act in which they were interested and the girls would comply.

But my status was so exalted they had no expectation I would do anything for them or with them. I might become involved in serious kissing, but it was the rare occasion on which I "forgot" and allowed one of them to touch my breast - on the outside of my clothing, of course.

Those rules were necessary to maintain my status in high school, but in college, I did have some competition, not serious competition, but competition nonetheless.

It wasn't just that there was competition. I wanted to enjoy some sexual experiences myself, and I was eighteen, which meant I was legal. So I became a bit freer with, of course, the college elite.

Only juniors and seniors need apply. I dated the wealthy, the top athletes and the children of famous people even as a freshman. I was so knock-out, drop-dead gorgeous that I was readily recruited into these circles.

I was also far smarter than your average jock. I knew I could not completely succeed on the work of others. I knew, for example, that I couldn't get anybody to take my college boards for me and would, therefore, need to actually understand much of the work other people did for me in high school.

I also knew I would need to understand much of the material in order to succeed in a good college. And it was important for me to get into a good college because the elite there would be higher quality than the elite at a lesser school. That was important to my overall life plan.

I could have made it on my own. My family had almost limitless money. I guess that's not really making it on my own, and making it on my own was what I wanted to do.

I absolutely could have been a model. But I'd been told it's a lot of work and, from what I had learned when I was young, I could achieve the same or greater level of wealth by marrying well.

I wouldn't marry just for money. But surely there would be wealthy, successful guys out there worthy of loving me. In the meantime, whatever temporary profession I chose, I would have lots of useful contacts to help me generate business.

Best of all, I didn't have to make a choice now. I could pursue other interests, including sexual interests, without interfering with my overall plan. I didn't even have to be especially promiscuous to get the range of experience I desired because, secret's out guys, girls talk. I knew who was hung, who had special talents, whom I could go to if I wanted to try out some kinky experiment.

Not only do girls talk, they especially wanted to talk to me to curry favor. I was the hottest woman on campus and my stature grew steadily until, by my sophomore year, I was an undisputed phenomenon.

As Thanksgiving break approached in my junior year I began to notice unusual things happening within my coterie. A couple of the girls who had been climbing the social ladder were unaccountably absent from some key events and parties.

On a random Tuesday I saw one of them heading in my general direction. I considered it my responsibility to investigate what was happening to one of my retinue. I may have been curious as well.

"Hi, Jennifer. I haven't seen you around lately. What's keeping you so busy?"

"Hi, Ashley. You know, just taking care of school, enjoying life."

There was something different about her. We were all happy with the lifestyle we were leading, but she seemed to have a level of contentment I had not seen before. She had a man.

"Who is he?"

"He?"

"Your new guy. You haven't been sifting through the prospects lately but you seem, I don't know, peaceful, happy. Who is he?"

She blushed. "Nobody you know. A friend introduced us."

"A blind date? Wow. You must really trust her."

She shrugged.

"So tell me about him. Jock? Connected? Classy? What?"

I had never seen her so reticent. In fact, I don't think I had ever seen her reticent at all. Not only would we talk about our guys, we would try to make them seem even better than they were.

"Just a sweet guy."

"He must be some kind of stud to keep you away from the action. He must be hung like a horse."

She blushed again and turned her head slightly away. I had never seen this girl blush at anything before and she had done it twice in one short conversation.

"Are you really that shallow, Ashley?"

"What's wrong with shallow?" I asked without much conviction.

I knew it sounded shallow. But in any field or group, there are key phrases that identify you as a member of the club, and even the leader needs to talk the talk now and then.

"He's just a very special guy."

"Very? So what is he, nine inches, ten?" No response. "A foot? My goodness." I waved my hand back and forth in front of my face as if to cool off a sudden flush.

"That's personal. I don't think I should be talking about it."

"Oh my God, he's even bigger. I want a crack at that." If she wasn't serious about the guy, she was honor bound to give me the opportunity.

"I, I really didn't measure. Anyway, that has nothing to do with it."

"Right. Only guys with little dicks say size has nothing to do with it."

"He doesn't say anything about it. He's just the most unbelievable lover I've ever had."

I could see instant regret in her face that I had pushed her to talk about it. I would have to push to get more.

"My God, how big is he? Can you even take it all?"

"I don't know. Average." She looked down, avoiding my eyes.

I was shocked. I had no idea what to say. A guy would have to have an awful lot of money to get me to have anything to do with his average dick.

"So what does he do that makes it so fantastic." I said it with real curiosity, not derision.

"He knows things," she said softly.

"What things?"

"I really don't want to talk about it. We're just friends with privileges, so if you really want to find out, I'll introduce you to him."

"Is he at least a hunk?"

I almost winced as I heard it come out of my mouth. He was lighting up her life and I was trying to find out if there was any justification whatsoever for her seeing him.

"He looks nice enough, though certainly not what you would call a hunk."

This was like pulling teeth. I was asking open-ended questions and she was giving me clipped responses.

"So who introduced you to this," don't use derisive words, "special guy?"

"Candy."

"No fucking way." It just slipped out. Candy was the other girl who had been AWOL. Jennifer was offering no unsolicited information so I had to press on. "So what is it that's so special about this guy?"

"He's sweet and sincere. He treats me with respect, not at all like a sex object, even though, you know. And he has such a quiet self confidence it's hard not to be captivated by him."

"Do I hear love?"

"I don't know." But her tone said, "I don't think so." She shrugged. "He's great to be with and he's -- just amazing. I know people like to exaggerate about someone they know; to say he's so unique. In this case, it's true. He's one of a kind. They didn't break the mold when they made him, they can't even find the mold. Anyway, neither of us is ready to settle down right now. He's especially not ready."

"But you keep fucking him anyway?"

"And I have no plans to stop." She beamed. "He's too good. We do a lot of other stuff too, not just sex."

"So how did Candy know him?" I asked.

"She started seeing him first. She's not in love with him either, but she may be addicted."

"Wow. Wow. So how has this incredible guy managed to keep himself so well hidden for so long?"

She giggled and looked down again. "He's a freshman."

"Holy shit!"

It was unthinkable that I, or any of us really, would go out with a freshman. Not that a twenty-year-old girl can't go out with an eighteen-year-old guy, but for God's sake, he was a freshman, completely devoid of status.

However it was intriguing as well. I could spin it as doing a favor for a friend and make myself look courageous, supremely confident.

"I must meet this interesting man." Would "boy" have been more appropriate?

"I'll see what I can do."

I haven't gone into any detail about my looks because, frankly, I don't want to sound like a narcissist. I'm five foot eight, and I have blond hair. I know it's become fashionable to shave off pubic hair, but I don't do it because I want to leave no doubt that I'm a natural blond for those who are lucky enough to see me naked.

Suffice it to say that if you were out on the date with the most beautiful woman you had ever met and I walked by, your eyes would follow me until I disappeared from sight as if you were alone.

Jennifer called later that day. She had negotiated a coffee shop, study date. I could easily spin a study date. A movie or dinner or, god forbid, dancing at a club, would be a serious breach of protocol requiring flagrant misrepresentation.

You don't get your way almost all the time without being a little pushy.

"Come on Jen, tell me something. Give me something to look forward to."

I call her Jennifer to emphasize my status over her. I called her Jen to make her feel I was her friend; to make her want to please me.

"Aaaaaaah."

"Please."

"Okay. He's a great kisser."



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Chapter 2


I arrived in the coffee shop in the Student Union ten minutes late. I didn't want to appear anxious and I thought it better form to locate her rather than have her see me and bring him to my table.

And there she was. I saw her from the side but didn't get a very good view of him. As I got closer I was surprised by his look and his looks. He wasn't bad looking though I never would have noticed him in a crowd.

He was kind of thin. What was striking was his clothing. He looked like he was wearing clothes his mother picked out for him for college. This was probably because he was wearing clothes his mother picked out for him for college.

No, he didn't have on a cheap white dress shirt appropriate for a pocket protector. But if you put him in a lineup, ten out of ten girls would have identified him as the nerd.

"Hi, Jennifer. Been waiting long?"

"No. Just an appropriate amount of time. Jeff, this is Ashley."

He stood to shake my hand. I think they used to do that in black-and-white movies.

"Nice to meet you, Ashley. Jen has been saying some nice things about you."

"She's been saying some nice things about you too."

I shook his hand. I guess that's what you're supposed to do. It wasn't the limp handshake I had been expecting, but neither was it the kind I experienced from the guys in my crowd, the kind that said, "I'm better than you."

He did have a nice smile. It was warm and friendly as if he really was happy to meet me. But it wasn't the kind that said he had been set up with a hot one. He showed no awe of me, which was very surprising, because almost everyone else did, including women.

"I can't stay long," said Jennifer. "I have a study group and I need the help."

"I told you I could help you with that," he said.

"I know. But I can't rely on you for everything. I need to establish some independence, even if it is in a group."

He seemed to find that amusing for some reason.

I went to the counter and got a cup of black coffee. When I returned to the table Jennifer was gathering up her stuff and begging off to go to her study group. We were alone.

"Jennifer said you're just a freshman. How can you help with her courses?"

"I know some stuff. I read a lot."

"Maybe you should be taking junior courses." My tone made my insincerity obvious.

He hesitated, as if reluctant to speak. "I am."

"How can you be taking advanced courses as a freshman?"

"I placed out of some stuff on the entrance evaluation exams."

"What courses?"

"Ah, just some stuff. Nothing important. Jen says you were homecoming queen last year. Does that take a lot of time away from your studies?"

"Nah. I'm pretty smart. I keep up with the stuff pretty easily." And I can recognize a segue, though it was pretty smooth.

"You're fortunate. Some people here have to work very hard to do well."

"Thanks." When was he going to mention my breathtaking beauty? I had never been on any kind of date where the guy didn't almost wax poetic over it unless he was tripping over his tongue. What was wrong with this guy?

"If I'm talking too much just tell me. I know you expected to get some studying done," he said.

"Yeah. Maybe we should do a little."

I was inclined to think about him, to speculate on what interested him, how smart he was to skip those courses and, yeah, I'll admit it, what it was that made him so special in the sack. I didn't know if he was looking at me, but history indicates he would be stealing glances so I dug into my work.

I glanced at him a few times and smiled in case he looked up at the same time. He was just reading. He took no notes. In fact, he didn't seem to even have a notebook or pen. Maybe it was in the missing pocket protector.

Two of my subjects went very smoothly. The third was a problem. I still didn't get why we were doing it. I could sort of keep up with how to do it, but I never understood why, and that muddied up my understanding of each thing I learned. I threw down my pencil in disgust.

He looked up. "Problem?"

"I just don't understand this damn accounting. I never got why we always do two entries. That makes it tough to know what entry goes where, because I don't know why I'm doing it."

He reached into his pocket. "I'm sorry. I seem not to have brought enough money with me. Could you loan me a buck?"

He had the most annoying ability to change the subject.

"Are you good for it?"

He smiled. It was a nice smile. "You can track me down if I don't pay up."

I handed him a dollar.

"What's your financial situation now that you've loaned me a dollar?"

"What?"

"Are you any better off? Worse off? The same?"

"I'm out a buck."

"Let's look at the entries. You have one dollar less in cash, but you also have a one dollar entry in your Loans Outstanding account. So one asset was credited because it was decreased - cash. But the other asset, Loans Outstanding, was debited by the same amount.

"There hasn't been any change in your financial situation except to the extent that cash may be a better quality asset than a loan.

"If all you did was a single entry for the reduction in cash, you'd have no way to know it didn't affect your financial position at all, and you wouldn't have any record that I owed you the money.

"With other types of transactions you may be making two entries that allow you to keep track of profit and loss at the same time you maintain your assets. The idea of the whole thing is that, in some way, the fact that assets equal liabilities plus owners' equity allows you a complete picture of your profit and loss at the same time you know all your assets and what you owe."

I guess he recognized the quizzical look on my face.

"Do you know any algebra?" he asked.

"Yes. I remember some."

"Do you remember that if you do the exact same thing to both sides of an equation, you don't change its validity?"

"Example?"

"6 = 3y. If you divide each side of the equation by three you get six over three is two equals three over three, that's one, times y. So the new equation is 2 = y.

"You did the exact same thing to both sides so you don't change the nature of the relationship. That's kind of what you're doing with double-entry accounting."

"Shit. Why didn't they just say that?"

He shrugged.

"It sure is easier to know what to do when you understand why you're doing it."

He nodded. He didn't talk a lot.

"Why couldn't they just say that?"

"Understanding things is easier if you can see them in a context you already understand. They don't have you one on one, so they can't tell if the metaphor worked for you. I have the advantage of trying out as many metaphors as I need to get the idea across."

"You're a smart guy."

"I was given some gifts. Everybody gets gifts. You got intelligence, personality, a nice smile."

I smiled my nice smile. It was a compliment, not an homage. I liked it. It reeked of sincerity. But it was unsettling.

"Thanks."

This guy was different. He treated me with respect. He related to me as a person. To him I was not the hottest woman he could ever imagine seeing. I was someone he could sit and talk to quietly, someone he could just spend silent time with while we were working separately, someone he just liked to be with. It made me feel really good.

Sure, it's nice being worshipped. But this, I don't know, I think it made me a little happier to be me. What a strange effect he was having on me.

It was starting to get late and we agreed that it was time to get going. He offered to walk me home and I accepted.

My apartment was less than a mile from the Student Union, but that provided more than enough time for me to have second thoughts, despite the complete comfort of our conversation.

I was walking openly through the campus with a nerdy freshman. This could not go anywhere good. Sure, I'd had that good feeling briefly. But grief was more likely to follow. If I was going to derive something from this whole experience, I wanted to get in and get out quickly.

When we got to my door, I took charge.

"Kiss me. Jennifer says you're great so let me see what's so special about your kissing."

His face tightened.

"I don't think so. With that attitude, no kiss would satisfy you. I don't understand. You seemed nice, but this shows a really, unflattering side of you. I hope you're in a better disposition later."

He turned and walked away.

I was really pissed and confused and, well, shocked. Nobody had ever walked away from me like that. The confusion prevented me from saying anything as he left. But if I had spoken, it would have been nasty and I'm sure I would never have seen him again.

Did I want that? I hate the word, but why had I been such a bitch? Did I care what he thought? Why was I being so wishy washy? I knew what I wanted from life and I knew how to get it. Did I care what he thought? Of course not.

But what was that unknown discomfort I felt?

This was giving me a headache. I had to get to sleep.



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Chapter 3


I can't tell you why, but the non-kissing incident continued to gnaw at me. Looking back, I think it was that I didn't like being characterized as not nice. That's really what he had accused me of.

Nobody had ever accused me of that before, but maybe that was because they were afraid to say something unflattering to me. I hadn't thought of myself that way, but I guess I could understand how he could.

The next afternoon I called Jennifer.

"Did he say anything about me, about what happened?"

"First, he would never say anything about what happened between you. He would consider that your business. He doesn't tell tales.

"Second, even if he somehow slipped, I would never repeat it. I respect him too much to do that. He did make a general comment about you and that I can repeat. He said you were complicated."

"Complicated?"

"Yes."

"I have no idea how to take that."

It was better than other things he could have said. Maybe it was like saying, "Your baby looks intelligent," instead of, "What an ugly kid."

"Ask him. He'll tell you."

"Can you tell me some stuff about him?"

"It depends on what you want to know."

"He seems pretty smart. No, he seems very smart. He talked about some courses he skipped. And he seems to know about a lot of things. He helped me with my accounting. He says he helps you with your courses. How smart is this guy?"

"Well, Ashley, he's probably the smartest guy you'll ever meet. He placed out of two years of French and Spanish. That's all the tests cover. But they evaluated his skills and placed him in graduate level courses in both.

"He was put in the advanced courses in math, chemistry, biology and physics. He's here on a National Merit Scholarship. If I didn't know him, I would think he was just an urban legend."

"Damn. You know he wasn't even taking notes when we studied. What's up with that?"

"He has something like a photographic memory. I don't understand it, really, but he says it has something to do with organizing facts. He doesn't just remember the facts. He understands them and that's how he remembers them, or something like that."

"Gee, that's clear. How did you find all this out?"

"Mostly from him. It was like pulling fucking teeth. If I were half that smart, I'd be bragging all over the place. He doesn't even want to talk about it."

"Yeah, I noticed he is really good at changing the subject."

"So, are you going to see him again?"

"I don't know. I haven't decided. Something about him disturbs me. Maybe it's that he takes me so far out of my comfort zone. Is he going to call me?"

"I don't know. He didn't ask for your number."

"Shit. I can't believe I'm going to have to call him. Give me his number in case I decide to. And you can't tell anyone about this."

"If you don't want me to, I won't."

I was interested in him. I can't tell you why. Maybe I was drawn to him like many girls are drawn to bad boys. Maybe he represented danger and excitement. Maybe I was just bored.

I have been in the position to ask a guy to take me to some event where nobody who was invited was an acceptable date for me. But I had never just invited a guy out on a date.

What if he said no? Was that possible? If I had a nickel for every time I had said no, I would never have to work. He hadn't completely blown me off.

Was this what guys felt every time they had to call a girl for a date? It sucked.



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Chapter 4


"Hi, Jeff. I don't know if you remember me."

"Now, Ashley. You're being disingenuous."

All right, I read. I know what disingenuous means. But who the fuck uses it in actual conversation? It is a word meant only to be used on the printed page.

"Well." That could have meant anything. I didn't know. Let him figure it out.

"I had a nice time studying with you the other night," he said.

Yes! I was getting a second chance.

"Me too. I was wondering if you were doing anything tonight."

"Well, I do have plans, but perhaps you'd like to come along. I'm going to see the wrestling team."

"Sure."

What? Is there a more boring, nerdier sport? I wonder if we have a badminton team.

"Great. I'll stop by at six thirty and we can walk together to the Rec center."

I've been driven on dates in a Rolls Royce. I've been driven in a Lamborghini. Tonight I was walking to the Rec center with a freshman nerd. How low could I sink?

"I'll be waiting."

This was really starting to weird me out. At least he hadn't said no.

Fortunately he didn't try to hold my hand on the walk over. I have no idea what I would have done.

Wrestling may still be a nerdy sport for guys, but for the girls, it is heavenly. All different weight classes and sizes, but these were sparsely dressed, exquisitely muscled, grunting, sweaty specimens of testosterone-laden masculinity in tights. I could have enjoyed watching this at home on a DVD. It was downright arousing. Had this guy discovered some new kind of visual aphrodisiac for women?

Had he been someone I would normally go out with, I would have taken him straight home and he would have gotten as lucky as it was possible to get.

As it was, after the match ended he took me to Bob's Big Boy for something to eat, part of his understanding of the dating ritual. Not exactly my usual fare. But he was probably on a limited budget and I know how to be gracious, even if I hadn't had much call to use it.

I was still fired up when we got to my door. What the hell. I would show nerd boy what kissing was all about. He was about to embark on the ride of his life. I put my arms around him and moved my lips toward his. He was surprisingly strong given that he had no visually apparent muscle.

A brief kiss. Nibble his lower lip with my lips. A tentative tongue across his lips. A little suction. Our tongues touched; they dueled back and forth. He ran his tongue along my teeth.

Oh my.

This was so good it took my breath away. We teased. We devoured. We consumed. It was the greatest kiss of my life. I felt like I was floating on air, protected by his strong arms. It seemed to go on forever. Then I became aware of a small group of girls across the street. They were applauding our kiss.

What had happened here?

I had intended to show him what an incredible kiss was like. Maybe I did. But he had certainly shown me as well.

I unlocked my door and dragged him in behind me. I headed straight for my bedroom with him in tow. I pushed him down on my bed and opened a few buttons on my blouse. I lowered myself on top of him and we went back to that scrumptious kissing.

I don't know how long we did that but it occurred to me at some point that he hadn't tried anything further.

I undid the rest of the buttons and removed my blouse. I unhooked my bra and tossed it off. Then I lifted his golf shirt which had the logo "InTime" from a consulting company he said he used to work for, pulled it over his head and tossed it away.

He ran his hands lightly over my back. He drew them down my arms, up my sides, across my shoulders, around my neck, over my cheeks, then back down.

When he reached my waist he moved his hands to my stomach and up to the bottom of my ribcage to just below my breasts. Then he slid them around to my sides and up to my armpits.

Couldn't he find my damn breasts?

I couldn't take any more. I grabbed his hands and moved them to what he had been avoiding. His touch was light. He moved his fingers in random patterns avoiding my nipples like he had been avoiding my breasts.

I wanted to punch him! I wanted to fuck him!

He rolled us so that he was on top, putting most of his weight on his knees and elbows. He kept threatening to touch my nipples and withdrawing.

Finally, when I was sure I could take no more, he touched them, still lightly.

This didn't arouse them. They were beyond arousal.

I moaned. I could feel the sensations travel from my nipples throughout my body. I don't care if it's not possible, that's how it felt.

He took one of my nipples in his mouth. I didn't care which one. Neither did he. He switched. He sucked and released. He tapped with his tongue. He blew on it. Oh, my God.

Then his fingers were back. He was pinching them with more force, but they were ready for the assault.

I was sodden at this point. I thought he might have to cut off my jeans and panties with surgical scissors.

He ran his nails lightly around my breasts. The sensation was not as intense as the previous ones, but was exquisite nonetheless.

Suddenly he began pressing his fingers into opposite sides of my breasts as if to squash them. I had felt this kind of assault before from inept neophytes who evidently thought you had to tenderize breasts like a tough steak.

After everything he had done so well, why was he doing this? I guess the mind is the most important sexual organ because all the wonderful groundwork he had laid was ruined by his ham-fisted manhandling of my breasts.

"Stop that. What are you doing? Get off me. I don't want to do this anymore."

He stopped with, "Stop that," and got up with a confused, hurt, puppy-dog look on his face.

"I'm sorry. I, I, I'm just sorry." He gathered up his shirt and quickly left.

In all he had done, I had thought he was a sexual virtuoso. I guess it just turned out that he was so timid he was afraid to get to it.

What had seemed like a carefully crafted campaign of slow arousal had turned out to be just a serendipitous accident until the end.

I was furious. Jennifer had portrayed him as an artist, but he was more like a pre-schooler with finger paints. I didn't even pause to change clothes or put on anything I had discarded. I grabbed the phone to vent my rage on her.

If she was pulling some kind of practical joke on me, I'd have her head on a stake.



-------

Chapter 5


"How the hell could you tell me he's so special? He latched onto my tits like he was riding a bucking bronco he was afraid would throw him. He had the subtlety of a sledgehammer. If you're trying to pull something on me you'll be so sorry."

"I don't understand. Calm down and tell me what happened."

I related the events to her in rather colorful language. When I got to the end, she had to wait until I finished lambasting his performance.

"Do you really want to know what happened or do you want to be angry?"

"Hey, I'm willing to listen if you think there's a snowball's chance in hell you can make this sound right."

If this had been portrayed in a cartoon, steam would have been coming out of my ears.

"Tell me, did you notice the sensations when he was mauling you, did you notice what it felt like."

I thought about it. "How could there be sensations? He was squeezing them."

"Look, everybody's different. It, well, you're obviously aware that there are lots of nerves in your nipples, right?"

"So?"

"Well the signals from your nerves go to your brain to be interpreted. How do they get there?" she asked.

I didn't answer.

"They don't magically jump through the air. They are transmitted through a network of nerve pathways that eventually lead to the brain. And where do you think the network is that leads from your nipples?"

She couldn't see me slowly shaking my head.

"I don't know."

"Along the milk duct and through the center of your breasts. There are nerves in there that can be stimulated. But if you're not aroused, the signal they carry if you're squeezed is pressure, discomfort or even pain. When you're aroused, the sensation is pleasurable. At least it is for me. If you didn't stop to recognize what you were experiencing, you may have missed it."

"How do you know all this? You're an English major?"

"He explained it to me. I liked it but I didn't understand what was going on."

"How the hell does he know all this? Is he some kind of fucking doctor freshman?"

"He read it in a book. He reads lots of things in books. Do you think he could get you that worked up by accident? Girl, you had a panic attack."

"I don't know, maybe. I didn't, I just remembered how it was like with those inexperienced guys. I don't think I took the time to think about what I was feeling physically, I just reacted.

"Damn. He's never going to talk to me again. What the hell am I going to say to him? How can I even talk to him? I'm so embarrassed."

I had really let my guard down with her in the rush of unfamiliar emotions.

"I don't get what's going on with him. Sometimes he seems to know exactly what he's doing and other times he seems almost lost. You know he took me to Bob's Big Boy."

She laughed. "Did you ask for the wine list?"

"Very funny. Is there something wrong with him or am I going crazy?"

"You've noticed.

"He's really good at anything he can read about and he's really good with things he's experienced. Like he gets an amazing psychological read on people most of the time, when their behavior matches something he's learned from a book.

"But some things he's completely clueless.

"The first time I met him he connected with me right away", said Jen. "He was warm, he treated me with respect, just accepted me for who I am.

"So I tried to let him know I was interested. I did the touching thing, his hand, his arm, his chest. I threw back my head to laugh when he said something funny. I did the hair toss. I ran through the whole arsenal.

"So he walks me back to my place, tells me it was nice meeting me and puts out his hand to shake. I've given him every green light I know and he's trying to shake hands."

"Yes. That's what I was feeling. I don't know what's coming next. I don't know if he's going to say something so insightful it will change the course of my life or something so clueless I can't figure how he makes it across the street by himself. He's like an idiot savant."

"Don't you love it? Ashley, it's so cool to see him learning from these situations he's never been in and hasn't read about. I know I'm talking like he's a lab experiment but in a few years, when he's learned all this social stuff, he's going to be almost irresistible."

"He'll still be a nerd. But I guess it's possible. I think I'm going to have to see that to believe it. For now, though, I think I want another chance with him. What do I do? What do I say?"

"Tell him the truth. Tell him how much you liked it up until then and how it brought up bad memories. He's pretty understanding."

The truth; what a novel approach. "Thanks. Maybe I will."

Could I? Should I do it right away? I had thrown him out like he was trying to rape me.

Why did I care? He was just another guy, a freshman and not particularly well off either. I could do much better. Of course, it wasn't like I was marrying the guy. And up until the time I freaked, it was by far the best sexual experience of my life.

And the way he kissed. Wow.

I didn't seem to be willing to just throw him aside. I couldn't put my finger on why not. He made demands of me. He had expectations of me. What was attractive about that?

While I was trying to decide whether or not to call him, I had a small epiphany. Aside from kissing him and the fact that my hands must have been somewhere, I had not touched him the whole time he was working on me.

That was a surprising enough realization, but I understood something more important: it was not because I didn't care whether he enjoyed himself. I was so overwhelmed by the sensations he was giving me I completely forgot to touch him.

That tipped the scales. I had to call him to try again.



-------

Chapter 6


"Jeff, this is Ashley. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for how I acted."

He didn't say anything. I assumed he thought there should be more.

So I gave it to him.

"I've been with some pretty inexperienced, clumsy guys. They kind of handled my, breasts, like they were stress balls. It was painful and uncomfortable and I sort of flashed back to those experiences without trying to understand what you were doing or what I was actually feeling. I overreacted. I'm really sorry."

I radiated sincerity because, perhaps for the first time with a man, I was sincere, without artifice.

"I'm sorry it made you feel uncomfortable. I had no idea what I had done wrong. I could have explained if you had asked," he said.

"I know."

How had he made it to eighteen years old and remained this naïve?

"I'm not saying it was your responsibility to ask. When you feel a visceral response to something, you just react. You don't stop to analyze it. I'm just saying I did it for a reason. I'm sorry it made you feel bad."

"Visceral? Do you always talk like that? Sometimes you sound like a thesaurus."

He laughed. "You're actually hearing me trying not to do that. I really work on, well, trying to say things in a way most people can understand. Sometimes the perfect word jumps into my mind and out of my mouth."

"I'm not complaining. It's just surprising to hear sometimes: visceral, disingenuous. Anyway, I wanted to know if we could give this another try. I promise not to go crazy again."

He had a soothing voice. He was either well-practiced or sincere, and he clearly was not well-practiced.

"It wasn't crazy. It was just an understandable reaction given your experience. Enough said. The incident is forgotten. So what did you have in mind?"

He was way more understanding of me than I would have been of him, or would have been of myself for that matter. If he would only yell at me I would feel more like I deserved another chance.

"Study. Thursday? My place?" I asked.

"I've got something Thursday. What about the weekend?"

I had not been turned down; I had been postponed. I was not used to being postponed. People changed their schedules to accommodate me. This was new territory. Practically everything about Jeff was new territory.

Friday and Saturday nights were prime dating and party nights at school. As much as I wanted to experience him, I had to maintain my standing in my social circle.

"What about Sunday night?"

"It's a date."

As Sunday approached, I had a sense of anticipation which I tried hard to suppress. This was just another date, and not a top quality date at that. But the knot in my insides didn't agree.

It couldn't just be that he might have something to teach me sexually.

He didn't fawn over me. He had refused to kiss me, just walked away like I was rancid fish.

He thought of me as intelligent, which was correct though I'm not sure anybody else had recognized it. He thought I had a nice personality when I wasn't acting like Her Royal Highness. Basically, he was completely unexpected and had me all shook up.

I don't know what he did, but I found myself studying Sunday afternoon. I'm not sure why. I think I just wanted to be sure I would have time to spend with him before he left. I must have misjudged because I had little to do when he arrived.

He noticed.

I had to explain.

"I guess I've been doing my work and I'm caught up. When we set this up I thought I'd have much more to do. But you can do your work. I'll find something to read. It's just nice to be here together."

That was the first time I had ever said that and I think I meant it.

"That's nice of you to say. I like spending time with you too. As far as my work, I'm pretty much up to date myself."

"I thought you had so much to do, all those advanced classes and stuff."

"Yeah, well, I keep up. I put in the time. In fact, most of the time you don't see me I'm studying."

I suspected the truth was that the work was easy for him. Nonetheless, I accepted his generous distortion of the truth.

"Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. You need to have some fun."

"Well, Jill, you're going to have to show Jack how to break out of his drudgery."

"Okay. Let me put on some music and we'll dance."

I found the campus station on the radio and started moving to the beat. He didn't.

"What's the problem, Jack?"

"I kind of don't know how to dance like that. I took ballroom dancing lessons but I never learned this."

He was proving the nerd stereotype, though I thought they waited until they were older for that. Ballroom? I took his hand.

"Come on, just move to the beat. You can feel the beat, can't you? You must be able to do that for your ballroom dancing." I showed him how to move. "Just feel the music."

He did surprisingly well. I had expected he would be awkward, but he didn't move like your average nerd. Maybe it was the ballroom lessons.

Something slow came on. He had a good idea how to get me to move with him and I loved being held against him. I could feel his confidence.

When the song ended I turned off the radio.

"There's something else I would like to do. I really, incredibly loved it when we were kissing. It was by far the best I've ever had. Do you think you could work some more of your magic?"

He laughed.

"It was very nice. I liked it too. But I think you have the wrong impression about what happened."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You thought I was really good, didn't you?"

"You better believe it."

"Not entirely true. I'm competent. There really isn't a lot of variation as to what you can do. It wasn't skill, it was mostly you."

"What are you talking about? It was both of us kissing and I gotta tell you, I've had enough experience to tell you that you were very good."

"What were you thinking when you started kissing me?" he asked. "You were thinking about the first time, weren't you? And when you did, you probably decided you'd show me what kissing was all about, that I wasn't as special as Jen said. Wasn't that how you were feeling?"

Did he read my diary?

"Well, kind of. But you made it great."

"No. You made it great. You wanted to show me what knee-wobbling, passionate kissing was all about, so you did.

"But that put you in a mood to enjoy knee-wobbling, passionate kissing. You were primed and ready to go. About all I had to do was not slobber down your chin. You gave passion. You felt passion. You were in a perfect frame of mind to enjoy it, so you did."

"I don't believe that," I said. "You had skill. You had technique."

"You probably can't even describe what I did. It wasn't because my tongue moved to this spot or that. It was because you were emotionally involved, not in me, but in kissing. If you got the same technique from a poodle, would you say it was great kissing?"

"Yuk. What a disgusting thought."

"Exactly. The first time, your attitude was so lousy, nothing I could have done would have been any good for you. The second time your attitude was so good that almost nothing I could have done would have made it bad for you."

"Well, maybe," I conceded. "But I still have my doubts."

"You know, it's the same for most things. If you go in with the attitude that it's going to be a positive experience, that you're going to enjoy yourself, you almost always will. When you go with a chip on your shoulder, you rarely enjoy it."

That resonated. When I went to a party with an attitude, it always sucked.

How did he know so much about people that he didn't have to know anything about kissing? Or did he? He was always surprising me and that was scary. I'm not a big fan of surprises. I like to know what to expect.

"Well, if the proper attitude is all that's required for a hot session of kissing, I plan to enjoy the hell out of it."

"Then I guess I'm going to be really good," Jeff said.

And he was. Or I was. Or we were. However it works. I was thoroughly aroused and I was ready for much more. I took his hand and led him toward the bedroom.

At my door he resisted.

"You go in. I want to get something. I'll be right in. Don't start without me. Or do if you want to."

I started to undress. If he was as good as Jennifer said, I didn't want to waste any time getting out of my clothes.

I heard noises from what sounded like the kitchen. Did he need to eat something to prepare himself because he was expecting such a strenuous session? Just a whimsical thought.

He appeared at my door with his hands behind his back. "Why did you get undressed?" He was genuinely disappointed. "That's part of the experience. Well, we can still have a good time."

He had some nerve telling me what the experience required. He moved to my night table and put a bowl down on it. It was filled with ice cubes.

I started to laugh.

"This is your big technique? You're going to drip melting ice cubes on me like Mickey Rourke did in 9 ½ weeks? Geeze, what an original thought."

He stood shaking his head. "I, you, can't even..." Then he turned and walked out of my room.

"Hey, where are you going? I'm just saying..."

What was I saying? Was my objective to drive him away?

I heard the front door slam. Did I want this experience, this relationship, if it was a relationship, to fail?

Maybe I was sabotaging it because I was afraid it would end in disaster.

Maybe I was sabotaging it because I was afraid it would end in success and what would that mean about who I was?

The first time I met him I challenged him about kissing. Then I blew him off for his handling of my breasts. Now I ridiculed him for wanting to try something with ice cubes. Maybe it would have been exciting even if it was cliché.

I was pissed. But I wasn't sure who I was pissed at.



-------

Chapter 7


Jennifer got another call.

"He brought ice cubes into my room." I couldn't hide the annoyance in my voice.

"Oh, you lucky girl."

Was she making fun of me? She cooed it like she really meant it. What was I supposed to say?

"Wasn't it unbelievable?" she asked.

Unbelievable might be the right word.

"To tell you the truth, I thought it was weird. All the stuff he does is weird. I didn't even let him get to use them. He does this weird stuff and I'm supposed to think it's sexy?"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"Huh?"

"It's from Hamlet, you know, Shakespeare. He took me Thursday night. Hamlet's mother, the queen, speaks the line while they're watching a play. Anyway, I'm just saying you're complaining an awful lot about him if you really don't like him. So you probably do."

"That's silly. He's just a guy."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"Stop that. He took you to see Hamlet?"

"Yes."

"What a nerd."

"Well, yes. But so what? It's my favorite Shakespeare."

"So what's with this ice cube thing?" I asked.

"Oh, no. It's not my place to tell you. If you ever manage to convince him to see you again, and what is this, your third strike, maybe you'll find out.

"What's with you anyway? Why do you keep acting this way with him? If you don't want to see him, just don't see him. Don't torment the guy."

What do I tell her? Am I acting this way? If so, why?

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing. I'll have to try to figure this out."

"Good luck."

Would it be good luck to be able to get him to give me another try or to just decide to call the whole thing off? Damned if I knew.

What was happening to me? How could I be in such turmoil over this, nobody? I really needed to talk to someone who could help me look at this objectively.

The problem was, I couldn't talk this over with my best friend; I didn't have one.

I had friends, but a show of weakness might have encouraged them to try to usurp my position of pre-eminence.

Shit! What kind of life was I leading that I didn't have a best friend? Nerds have them. Even pathetic losers have pathetic-loser best friends. I had no one.

It was almost unthinkable, but I knew that I would talk to him again, ask him to forgive me, again.

Was it the sex I anticipated? Was that enough for me to humiliate myself?

What if he told someone? I could deny it.

Instinctively I knew he would never do that. Was I starting to feel something for him? Don't be ridiculous. Or doth I protest too much?

Perhaps why I was doing it didn't matter. But how was a problem. I had to come up with something really good, an excuse that would be compelling to him.

I thought about our last encounter and realized I had probably hurt his feelings. Maybe I had all three times I treated him badly. I started to feel a little remorse.

I didn't recall ever feeling remorse before, but I could use that. There was no story I could come up with that seemed even remotely acceptable so I decided I would need to do the most humiliating thing of all: be honest with him again.

"So I'm really sorry I made you feel bad. The worst part for me is that I don't know for sure why I did it. I think I'm afraid of you."

That was true.

"I think I'm afraid I could have really strong feelings for you."

That was baseless speculation.

I got no response from him. Again, I needed to do more.

"It's just, I'm afraid, learning new things from somebody so young. You're not the usual kind of guy I go out with, Jeff."

I waited to see if I would need to elaborate further. I was struggling. If he bought this, I would absolutely never lie to him again. Maybe.

"I can't help you with your feelings. I have enough trouble with my own. But maybe I can help with the other stuff.

"You might have the same learning style I do. I can't just learn how to do something, I need to understand why it's done that way. Once I do, I own it forever. And before I do, it's just words or movements or whatever. That part I can do something about."

"So you forgive me? I would feel terrible if you didn't."

Not to mention I would never get to explore all the stuff Jen raved about.

"I forgive you," he said. "That must have been very difficult for you to talk about."

What a pushover! Or was he just a nice guy?

"Let me make it up to you in the traditional way. Let me make dinner for you on Friday. Or Saturday or Sunday, whenever you're available. I'm a pretty good cook."

Which was true. It was a skill I figured I would need eventually so I took the time to learn and it was even kind of fun.

"Me too."

Was there anything this guy couldn't do?

"Do you need any help? I could be your prep chef."

He knew everything. He did everything. He was helpful, patient, and considerate. When we talked he seemed interested in whatever I said, whatever I was thinking. It was enough to make me sick.

Outside of the fact that he had no money, only slightly above-average looks and no athletic talent he was almost the perfect guy.

"No, thanks," I said. "I'd like to do it myself. After all, I'm the one who hasn't behaved all that well. I want to make it up to you at least a little."

"You're forgiven. You're forgiven. There's nothing to make up."

"Just the same, this is something I want to do for you."

Maybe I would earn enough points to get me through my next blunder.

"Fair enough."



-------

Chapter 8


I made New York strip steak rubbed with crushed garlic. I used rubber gloves because I didn't want him smelling it on my hands. I also made candied sweet potatoes which I learned from my grandmother one Thanksgiving when my parents were in Europe.

A growing boy needs his green vegetables my mother used to say, so I added buttered green beans. Actually she used to say growing girl, and it might have been the cook instead of my mother, but you get the idea.

I told him I would clean up and that he should retire to the living room to smoke a cigar.

"I don't smoke," he said.

"It's just a concept. You don't actually need to smoke."

I cleaned up and called him in for dessert, a chocolate cream pie. I didn't make it myself, that would be just a bit too domestic. But I know guys like chocolate, and I read it puts everybody in the mood. He had two slices which made me happy with my choice.

I led the way to the living room. I tried to start my dessert with some kissing. He preferred conversation.

"Did you ever have a really good meal in a fine restaurant?"

"Of course."

I did date the well-heeled and my family was obscenely wealthy. But why is he talking about food when he's got a sure thing?

"Even though people are all the same, we all have basically the same parts, we all have taste buds, we taste things differently, we feel things differently, we smell them differently.

"There are minor and major differences in our reactions to the same things even though we're all human. The same meal will be experienced differently by two people eating at the same time at the same table. It's an exquisite meal but we each appreciate it our own way."

Blah, blah, blah.

"When you eat that meal, they break up the courses. They bring you a sorbet at some point to kind of reset your taste buds so that what you've eaten before won't affect how you experience the next course.

"Sex is like that too."

All right, so it wasn't blah, blah, blah.

"Not everybody reacts the same. Some women have little reaction to stimulation of their nipples, some are driven crazy by it. You can't expect the same things to work for everybody. That's why it can be such an individual thing and you have to take your time to find out what works.

"You also need that little intermezzo between courses, like the sorbet. That's why taking off your clothes last time skipped a step.

"You don't sit down to a fine meal with the attitude let's get this crap on the table and shovel it down already. And you don't whip off your clothes, hop on the bed and say, 'Jump on, I'm in a hurry.'

"I mean sometimes you might, like let's get a quick burger. But that's not the way to savor it.

"That's my general philosophy. I thought it would be helpful for you to understand why I do it the way I do. Maybe it will help you be more comfortable if you know why I'm doing things you may find, unusual."

"I think that may help. So when are you going to jump on? I'm in a hurry."

"Very funny. In just a couple of minutes. My mount will have a degree of difficulty of 3.7 but I will be trying some moves that are as yet unrated by the judges."

"Let's go."

"I need to make a stop in the kitchen."

"No comment this time."

I also didn't get started without him. He returned with a bowl of ice cubes and I giggled.

"Just nerves." I said.

We started with the kissing, always a good place to start. This time he ran his hands through my hair and was massaging my scalp with his fingers. It would have been heavenly even without the kissing.

He started at my hairline and pressed with his fingers as he ran both hands to the back of my head and down to my neck. He moved them back up across the sides of my head, always pressing, rotating the tips of his fingers. He did it a few times and then started down my arms. That was when I realized I had been so lost in the sensations that again I had failed to reciprocate at all.

I untucked a different InTime shirt from his pants and pulled it over his head before he could do something else to make me forget that I was supposed to be an active participant.

He was fairly thin but seemed to have some muscle he had kept well hidden from me. I didn't care.

I ran my fingers over his chest. He ran his fingers over mine. He took his time. He took too much damn time. I started to pull my blouse out from my skirt but he gripped my hands to stop me.

"Do you have another appointment after this?" he asked.

"No."

"Then why the rush? Would you slam down an appetizer so you could get the meal over with as soon as possible?"

I let go of my blouse. He ran his hands up my sides to my shoulders then across to the center. He unbuttoned one button on my blouse and then moved his hands around to my back. I shivered.

"I wouldn't slam down the appetizer, but if I took as long as you're taking," I said, "I would be ready for another meal before I was done the first."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing in this context," he said.

Back around to the front and there went another button.

This was maddening. While I had the concentration I frantically attacked his belt. My urgency made my attempts as inept as a virgin trying to unhook his first bra without benefit of seeing the mechanism.

His mouth attacked mine with greater urgency. I let go of the belt and put my arms around him, pulling him tighter to me.

In spite of that, he dispatched yet another button. His back was smooth. It felt muscular. I think it did. I don't know. Mostly what I was thinking was get my damn clothes off.

I decided to do the head massage myself. When I finished, I realized there were no buttons left and he was sliding my arms out of the blouse. I pushed him off me, sat up and tossed the blouse away from the bed. Before he could stop me I whipped off my bra and sent it flying.

He laughed and started rubbing his cheeks against my breasts. His cheeks? Where does he come up with this crazy stuff?

I loved it.

He lightly sucked my nipples moving back and forth and then blew on them. I know Rome wasn't built in a day, but if they had progressed at this rate, the empire would never have fallen because it wouldn't be built yet.

I was a little calmer now. I managed to unbuckle his belt and unsnap the button on his jeans. I slid down the zipper.

He was using his fingers on my nipples now but he couldn't arouse them any further. They were as engorged as it was possible for them to be.

He started moving his fingers up away from them, pressing on the top and the bottom. I felt it, a deep sensation, not as intense as the direct stimulation of my nipples, but very pleasurable, like the satisfaction you get from a really good stretch. This was the intermezzo.

I tried to push his jeans down, but I was not in a position to exert any pressure. Mercifully, he started his hands down and pulled on my skirt. I lifted my hips to help him and he removed it but he left my panties.

"Get them off. Rip them off if you have to."

He laughed. I was glad he found this so amusing. I tried again to shove his jeans down. This time he helped me. He left on his boxers.

God forbid we should get naked so he could pound me like a jackhammer.

His hands slid under the waistband of my panties onto my ass and he rubbed and caressed.

I moaned.

He moved further down and I thought he was finally going to attack my lips. He tapped a finger at the bottom of my swampy opening. Just a tap and he moved his hand away.

When this was over I would beat him to a bloody pulp for teasing me this way.

Finally my panties started to move south. I lifted and wriggled my legs forcefully while being careful not to kick him anyplace that would slow him down catastrophically.

He moved up to lie on his side, me on my back, and slid his hand slowly up my leg. The further he progressed, the more forcefully he pressed his fingers into my flesh. He moved up the inside of my thigh headed exactly where I wanted him.

At the last instant, he veered off to the crease where my leg met my torso. He kept up the pressure, moving to my stomach and down through my hair toward my clit. At the last second he veered off alongside my lips.

I screamed. If I were captured by the enemy and tortured like this, I would tell them anything they wanted to hear.

Down the inside of my thigh. Across to the other thigh and up the inside like he had done before. He slowed down. As his fingertips were less than an inch away he stopped and rested the heel of his hand against my hair.

"Please. Please. Please."

He tapped his middle finger against my wetness. It elicited a mournful sigh from me.

"More!"

He tapped again, then again. I was sure there was nothing I could do to him at that moment that I would not be acquitted for.

He tapped once more and then pressed his finger lengthwise, letting it sink slowly.

I came. It wasn't enough.

He slid his finger along my lips. He reached my clit and put on some pressure rolling it from side to side a couple of times.

I came. It wasn't enough.

A second finger sank into me and then a third.

He maintained the pressure on my clit with the base of his fingers and his thumb, but his fingertips were pressing up against the front wall, or the top, I don't know how to describe it. I was lying down so it seemed to be the top but if I had been standing up, well, whatever, it felt so good I was having trouble staying coherent.

Nobody had ever done this to me before. It was so intense. I was starting to throb and then I was overwhelmed with the biggest orgasm I had ever had. It was starting to get almost painfully intense when he eased off.

It took me a moment to catch my breath.

"What the hell did you do to me? What was that?"

"What?"

"Inside me. What was that?"

"I was caressing your G-spot."

"What's that?"

"Are you sure this is when you want the anatomy lesson?" he asked.

"I'm sure it isn't. I want more."

And then he was slipping down his boxers. Shit! I had forgotten all about him again. Well it was his own damn fault. He had set my whole body on fire and continued to fan the flames.

He eased himself up between my legs and I thought the least I could do was help, so I reached to guide him into me. It was covered with a condom. That hadn't occurred to me. I was on the pill. We would have to discuss this, oh, he sank all the way in. I had been teased enough.

"No more fooling around. Fuck me hard and fast. I need it."

He ignored me.

He tilted forward so that the base of his organ was pressing against my clit. He rotated it, like he was stirring pudding so it wouldn't stick to the bottom of the pot. It was very good pudding. It hit all kinds of different places at different angles.

Instead of stirring, he would start to move in random directions. I never knew what to expect next but all of it was delicious. Sometimes he would change the angle and remove the pressure on my clit for a while and then he would bring it back. Still teasing, just a different way, and it was driving me crazy.

I could feel a really big one building. The angles, the pressure, the constant variation of sensation, were getting to me much more than any pounding ever had.

"Oh, God. I'm going to come. Oh my God. Aaaaaah."

It hit me with tremendous force. Then suddenly the feeling increased exponentially. It hit me like a fucking tsunami. Every part of my body felt like it was exploding. I felt as if I were going to...



-------

Chapter 9


I was lying in my bed. I couldn't move. I tried to lift up my head but I didn't seem to have the energy. "What happened?"

"You passed out."

"I can't move."

He laughed. "That won't last long. You expended so much energy your body just doesn't want to move at the moment."

"What did you do? I felt like I was exploding. I, I can't even really describe it. Whew. If that's what sex is supposed to be like, you just took my virginity."

He laughed again. "It may have sapped your strength, but it hasn't dulled your sense of humor."

"What was that? I never felt anything like it."

"You had an orgasm."

"No shit. But it never felt like that. What did you do?"

"Well, time for a little class now that there's less urgency. You remember about the nerve paths to the brain?"

"Yeah. Jen told me about it. I felt it this time."

"You have nerves all over your body. But you only have one set of nerves. They have to perform multiple functions. When I caress your face like this, how does it feel?"

"Very nice, thank you."

"The nerves carry that sensation of touch and the feelings of pleasure. You have other nerves that transmit even stronger signals of pleasure."

"I noticed," I said.

"If I stuck you with a pin, what would you feel?"

"Pain."

"Nerves carry pain signals too. What if you lit a match and forgot to blow it out?"

"I'd get burned."

"And the nerves would tell your brain it was really hot and you should do something about it, like drop the match or blow it out. Nerves transmit signals of heat and cold too."

"Yes, professor."

"Well, it turns out, that in certain situations the brain has trouble differentiating between the signals. At the moment of orgasm, while the brain is being overwhelmed by pleasure, that's the only message it recognizes.

"So, if, when you started to come, I were to squeeze your clit very hard, the brain would misinterpret it as even more intensely pleasurable. But afterward you'd be bruised and it would hurt.

"I could put a lit match down there at that moment and your brain wouldn't say, 'Ouch, ' but 'Wow.' Of course that would cause some damage that would last a while and you wouldn't be too happy with me. But,"

"The ice cube! No residual damage." Damn! Who thought this stuff up?

"The ice cube. It's like an amplifier. The brain just hears more pleasure. It's only for a very brief time. Then it just gets recognized as cold and gets painful.

"It's just like after an orgasm. Continued stimulation can start to feel painful. You've only got that brief moment to work with, but if you get it right, it can really kick it up a notch."

"Thanks, Emeril. And believe me, if you were a woman and felt the effect of those ice cubes, you wouldn't use that limp-ass 'kick it up a notch.' It was mind blowing. Where did you learn all this stuff? Did you go to the Cordon Screw?"

"I read it in a book," he said.

"You read it in a book?"

"I read it in a book."

"Where can I buy the book?"

"You're a funny girl. That's one of the things I like about you."

My strength was starting to return, but I felt no urgency to get up.

"And you're a strange guy."

"Do you like me anyway?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. You've acted kind of strangely yourself. That's why I'm asking."

"Of course I do."

Men. They always have their doubts. Not all men really. Most of the men I date have no doubts at all. They should, but they don't.

"We have to do this again. But not too often; I don't think I could take it." I sighed. "God, I'm so embarrassed. I didn't do a thing for you. I, I'm never that selfish. You just had me so, involved, it completely slipped my mind. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I had a good time."

"I can do much better. You have to give me another chance."

"Hey, I was so turned on at your reactions I was about to burst a blood vessel. You did notice I was aroused, didn't you?"

"I did."

But I hadn't really taken any notice of how big it was; just what it was doing to me. That came as a real surprise. It wasn't huge, but that's all I was really aware of. That and the fact that it wasn't relevant.

"Well, I still want another crack at it."

"It may not be obvious, but I don't just slut around with anyone. There needs to be some sort of emotional connection for me. I don't have to be in love, but I have to be in like. You're going to need to romance me."

"So you like me?" I asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

Hey, no girl ever tires of hearing this and as long as he doesn't say, "Because you have big tits," there is almost no bad answer. Actually, there are a lot of girls who will settle for that.

"I love your sense of humor. I like your intelligence. And on the rare occasion, you can actually be warm and sweet."

"That's not a very nice thing to say."

I exaggerated it, but was surprised to find I was a little hurt.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"I suppose. But I don't like to think of myself that way."

"There's a solution: don't act that way."

Boy did he have a set.

"Your after play needs some work."

"This is relationship building, not after play."

"How did you switch to so serious all of a sudden?" I asked.

"I'm interested in whether we have any future together. I don't mean in the sense of a committed relationship. God knows I'm not ready for that with anyone. But I'd like to know if I was just your one nerd experiment and that's all this is to you."

I avoided his eyes. I wasn't sure what this was myself. How did he know me so well?

"You're not a..." yes he was, and it would be insulting to deny it. He really just laid it out there. Here's my vulnerability. Are you going to crush me?

"Thanksgiving break is coming up. Were you planning on taking me home to meet your parents and your friends?" he asked.

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"And now that you have?"

"I, um, well, it's not, I really..."

He laughed. "Can't do it, huh? It would hurt your status to bring home a nerd, and a not especially good-looking one at that."

"You don't look bad."

"Thanks for the underwhelming vote of confidence." There was no rancor in his voice.

"I understand. At this point in your life you're too immature for me. When you grow up, you could consider looking me up again."

"That's not fair."

"That's what I thought. I know it doesn't sound nice, but I learned the lesson from an older woman. She was right. I was not sufficiently mature for her."

"Did you learn that in a book too?"

"No. From studying people and their behavior and myself and my behavior. She did me a favor, although I thought she was pretty harsh at the time."

I hoped some of the guys I had cut off at the knees were that understanding.

"You're just too involved in yourself at this point in your life to have a solid relationship with somebody else. No offense intended," he said.

I'm supposed to say, "None taken." But it did hurt, especially because I realized it was probably true.

"I don't know what to say." I couldn't look him in the eyes.

"That's okay. I find when I don't know what to say, it usually works out best if I don't say anything."

I took his advice.

"Are you going home for Thanksgiving?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Could I get a ride back to Lower Merion with you?"

"You live in Lower Merion?" My voice reflected my astonishment.

"Yes."

"Oh my God. Did you go to Lower Merion High School?"

"Yup."

"Me too. That's amazing. We might even have met back then. What a coincidence."

"We did," he said.

This was a hell of a conversation to have naked. I looked carefully at him and it hit me. He had grown quite a bit, filled out some, and looked quite different, yet sufficiently the same.

"Willie?" This time there was no derision in my voice. It was quiet and sad.

"But where did Jeff come from? Have you been trying to humiliate me?"

"I switched to my middle name when I got to college. I got tired of all the 'little Willie' jokes. My whole family agreed, even though it was difficult for them to change to Jeff. They always called me Bill."

"I'm really sorry. I was probably worse then than I am now. I didn't mean to hurt you; I just didn't think about other people. I don't know, maybe I did. I was pretty self-centered."

"I know. After all I did for you I was pretty angry. I fantasized about some kind of revenge."

"I guess you got it after all," I said.

"I hope not. It was a childish fantasy. What would revenge get me? Besides, without you I might never have thought to learn about people."

I was pretty sure he didn't realize he still had a lot to learn about people. He had started getting dressed and I did the same, though I felt enough connection that it would have been nice to just lie there with him for a while.

"I'd still be too immature to be of any good to anyone. I owe you," he said.

I had some idea of how he must have felt back then except he wasn't trying to put me down when he said it. If it felt this bad being told nicely, well, I didn't want to think about it.

"Well, if you owe me, will you wait for me to grow up?"

Why had I said that? I didn't know that I wanted him. Maybe I did. They say to trust your initial reactions. He took me off the hook.

"We'll see where we are when that happens. I'd still like that ride."

"I still want the name of that book."



-------

Chapter 10


I gave him the ride. It figured to be more fun than driving home by myself. We got along perfectly until he got in the car and heard Metallica on the radio.

"How about we listen to NPR? Talk of the Nation should be on. It's not Science Friday, but they have a lot of really informative shows," he said.

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. It just struck me so funny the enthusiasm you showed when you said 'Science Friday.' You said it like that's what everybody's waiting to listen to. It's goofy but it's endearing. No offense intended."

I touched his leg because I felt like doing it. It was not a ploy but I think it was a signal. I wondered if he had recognized it.

"None taken. I know I'm in another world sometimes. Why don't we just talk? We can get to know each other better."

"Okay. Fine by me. Let's start with your whole name. I don't even know your last name."

"William Jefferson Goldberg."

This time I didn't have to explain the laughter.

"How the hell did they come up with that?"

"It would have been no big deal if it hadn't been for Clinton. My great grandfather was William. As for Jefferson, he's my mom's favorite president. My other great grandfather was Jerome so they needed a 'J'."

"That's too funny."

"Yeah, well, my Mom teaches history at Penn, and she focuses on American History, so there was going to be a president in my name somehow. It was just a matter of bad timing."

"Wow, a history prof. So why didn't you go there?" I asked.

"My mom teaches history at Penn. Plus I wanted to get away from home anyway."

"I can understand that. What does your Dad do?"

"Electrical engineer," he said.

"So nerdiness is genetic?" He gave me a look.

I smiled. "I mean that in the nicest way."

"So what did you inherit? What does your Dad do?" he asked.

"He runs a bank."

"He's a bank manager?"

"No. He runs a bank. President, like his father and his father. He owns the bank."

"I have a checking account in a bank. Your Mom?" he asked.

"She volunteers."

"Not at the bank."

"No."

"So what did you inherit? Not money, but temperament, personality, skills."

"I don't think they have anything to do with who I am."

"Congratulations. You're the first," he said.

"Maybe they do. Are you sure you don't want to listen to Metallica?"

We talked politics. He was a tree hugger, big surprise; he even composted their grass clippings.

He was appalled that I wasn't even registered to vote. All those people fought and died so he could vote. So many women struggled so I could vote. Wasn't I betraying all that effort and sacrifice?

I suppose I was. It was something that required no sacrifice and practically no effort from me and I guess I didn't appreciate what I had.

One of the things that really annoyed me about him was that he was almost always right.

He talked about history, which he seemed to love as much as his Mother did. The best thing about history, he said, was that if we understood it, we could avoid making the mistakes of the past. The problem was in the understanding.

Did we learn from Vietnam that we shouldn't meddle in Iraq? Or did we learn from World War II that we must be involved because it posed a more general threat? Or did neither provide a sufficient parallel to guide our behavior?

Who wants to think about this stuff all the time?

Apparently, Jeff does.

He was passionate about politics. He was passionate about history. He was passionate about bridge.

I thought it was a game designed to fill huge chunks of interminable time for old ladies. But he said it was an intense game fought in local, national and international competition.

He had a passion for baseball. I considered it a cure for insomnia, but Jeff said it was a vibrant test of skill, intelligence and courage.

Most of all, he had passion. He devoured life in huge gulps.

I asked him what he did when he was bored. He asked how it was possible to be bored. There was not enough time to do everything, learn everything, read everything. When was there time available for boredom?

Jeff wanted to talk about what made me passionate, but I couldn't think of anything.

I was envious. I wanted some of that myself.

He said, "Don't want it, go get it. There are things out there that can excite you. Find them. It's all in your control."

He was probably right again. For this ride it was exciting just to see his passion.

With all we talked about, this was the quickest ride home I ever had. I hated for it to end. It seemed that he did too.

"Come on in and meet my family."

"No, I have to get home."

"That can wait a little longer. Come on, I know you'll like them. I promise we won't lock the door. You can get out whenever you need to."

I was a little scared to meet them, but it didn't take too much convincing for me to spend a little more time with him.

"Is that you Jeff?" I heard as we entered through the front door.

"Hi, Mom."

She walked into the foyer. She was a little shorter than I, with brown hair, brown eyes, a thin face and a warm smile that dominated it. She took him in her arms.

"I'm so glad you're home." She released him and turned to me.

"Mom, this is my friend Ashley."

"The same..." she had a quizzical look on her face. "So nice to meet you. If Jeff says you're his friend, I'm sure you're a lovely girl. Come on in and meet everyone."

I tried to protest, but she put her arm around me and led me to the kitchen.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. —"

"Sunny" she said.

"Sunny."

"You should know why she uses that," Jeff said.

"Jeff," Sunny admonished.

"Petal Sunshine Goldberg. What would you call yourself? Mom was born on a commune." He said it with obvious affection.

We reached the kitchen.

"Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Jeff's friend Ashley," said Sunny.

Her mother got that same quizzical look but it didn't last long. She greeted me warmly. So did Sonny's father.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs..."

"Sam and Harri," interrupted Jeff.

She must have seen the confused look in my eyes. "I'm Harri, short for Harriet. And this is my husband Sam," she said, graciously resolving my confusion.

Harri was wearing a colorful, tie-died blouse and a peasant skirt. She had an exquisite necklace that appeared to contain turquoise. It was very unusual. She saw me looking.

"Do you like it? It's an original Harri."

"Harri makes jewelry," said Jeff. "She learned it on the commune and found out she was a natural. She gets orders from all over the country."

I could hear the love and admiration in his voice. It must be nice.

They asked about me. I couldn't give them a wrong answer.

Whatever I said was "wonderful" to them.

Where I lived was "so nice." Majoring in business was "so important." I was "so sweet" to take Jeff home with me. But they made it sound sincere so it wasn't sickening. Being with this family was a constant dose of self esteem. I wish...

"Oh my God, I've been here almost two hours. I have to get home. They'll be wondering where I am."

Probably not.

Since it was the day before Thanksgiving, Dad might be home for dinner. If Mom was home I wouldn't see her until dinner was ready unless I went looking for her. They would have no idea I was missing. The contrast between these people and my family was starting to depress me.

Sam said, "Why don't you give them a call and stay for dinner? I made Steak Diane."

"Sam's a chef," said Jeff.

"I, I can't. I have to get home. Thanks for the invitation, though."

Sunny hugged me. "You come back any time, Honey. You're always welcome here."

Harri hugged me. "I hope we see you again, Buttercup."

Petal, Buttercup, I guess she had a thing for flowers.

Sam hugged me. "You're a sweet girl. You're welcome in our family anytime."

"It was so nice to meet all of you."

It was one of the highlights of my year. It was one of the highlights of my life.

Jeff walked me to the door and he hugged me. "I'm glad you came in."

I lost it. I buried myself in his arms and started to sob.

I had no true friends. My family was cordial but I couldn't tell if they really loved me or I was just their responsibility and an appropriate reflection of their status.

I treated people according to what I thought they could do for me. How did I turn out such a mess? It was all Jeff's fault. I couldn't remember the last time I had an unguarded moment before I met him.

"Be my friend," I asked.

He held on until I settled down.

"Of course."

He wrote down his number and said to call if I needed to talk.

I told him I'd call to make arrangements to drive back to school. Then I left.

I composed myself and by the time I was home, I was the ice queen again. I couldn't decide if my visit with his family had been enriching or traumatic.

Jeff had told me on the ride home what Thanksgiving would be like at his house. Everybody would say what they were thankful for.

Sam and Harri would take the most time. In a holdover from their hippie days they would give thanks for everybody and everything.

They would give thanks for the cycle of nature that refreshes the soil. They would give thanks for the rain which gives life to the plants and cleans out toxins from the air. They would remember old friends and be thankful for having known them. The whole family would be thankful for each other.

My family would say, "Let's eat," after they told me how beautiful I was.

That seemed to be the only way I was recognized. It had never bothered me before. That was the way it was and that was the way I had come to view myself.

With all we had, why bother to take the time to appreciate it? Now it gnawed at me.

I may have been disappointed when I got home, but I was not surprised: I look beautiful.

Did they know I had come back from school? Did they know I had some kind of life there? Did they notice how distracted I was?

I'm questioning my life, my choices, and they're making small talk, the few times anybody says anything other than, "Please pass the" whatever.

Thanksgiving dinner was worse. Actually it was the same but that made it worse. Did they think as little about each other as they thought about me?

It was a pretty busy weekend. Friday night I was to meet with my high school entourage. They would undoubtedly want to know what I was doing, who I was seeing.

I would keep the information sparse and pry that same information from them to better maintain my aura of invincibility.

Saturday night was the "A" party at the country club. My parents were throwing a party in the afternoon and I would be displayed to all the eligible sons of their friends. I had gotten quite a bit of fodder from these events in the past. A proper girl can't just take out a personal ad.

Rest up Sunday morning and then back to school with Jeff.

Jeff.

I had a few hours free Friday afternoon and I heard the Sirens' call. It might be fun to hang out there.

I still wasn't sure why I was there when I rang the bell. The door opened and I saw a thin girl in her mid-teens. She had inherited the family proclivity for not drawing any flattering attention to herself by the way she dressed.

From her face it was obvious that she was Sunny's daughter. She wore no makeup.

"Ooooh, you're Ashley."

I saw nothing that suggested that she knew about my checkered history with her brother.

"Hi. Is Jeff in?"

"Jeff," she shouted.

"In the kitchen," came his voice.

"I'll show you."

She seemed in awe. Finally a response I recognized from someone in the family. Something was cooking, but I couln't identify the aroma. It was nice. I followed her to the kitchen.

"Ashley, nice to see you, sweetie." Sam approached with his arms wide.

I accepted the hug. "Nice to see you, too, Sam."

Jeff was at the stove, his left hand holding the handle of a frying pan, his right stirring whatever was in the pan with some kind of ribbed metal thing.

"Sorry I can't leave here. If I stop stirring with the whisk for as little as three or four seconds the roux could start to burn and I'd have to start all over."

"And he's doing it right this time," said Sam. "Sometimes he puts the flame too high because he's so impatient and wants to get done rather than taking the time to do it right."

"That's not my experience," I said.

Jeff's face turned red. It pleased me.

"I like a nice dark chocolate roux so it takes a while," he said.

"What are you making?"

"Turkey gumbo. When the roux finishes, I'll pour it over the trinity and it will start to cook it. Then I add the stock as it loses its intense heat. I learned it from Sam."

"What's the trinity?"

"Onions, green peppers and celery, Chile'" said Sam in a Creole patois.

Little sister continued to gape at me.

The roux turned brown and grew darker and darker. The aroma grew richer. Finally, Jeff turned off the light under the pan and poured the roux over the trinity. It sizzled for a while.

Doesn't it sound just like you know what you're talking about when you learn the lingo?

He stirred the trinity for about half a minute, then poured the hot stock into the large pot that contained the trinity, the turkey and some other stuff I couldn't identify. On went the lid and the flame.

"I take it you met Sandy." He gestured towards his sister.

"Not by name. Hi, Sandy."

She giggled, "Hi," and then she ran from the room.

Jeff invited me up to his room.

"Are you going to show me your etchings?"

"See. That's the Ashley I like."

"See you, Sam."

I took Jeff's hand as he went up the stairs. Why the hell did I do that? It just felt right. I was beginning to wonder if I was a multiple personality.

It wasn't what I thought of as a typical guy's room. No posters of scantily clad women. No sports stars on the wall. Lots of books and a shelf of debate trophies. I had no idea he was on the team. Actually, I had no idea there was a team.

Something had me curious. "You're so smart. How come you didn't skip any grades? I mean, you seem to have practically skipped a couple of years of college."

"Mom skipped three years. She was increasingly younger than everyone in her classes. She's convinced that being with older kids messed her up socially so she absolutely refused to let me skip. She said I could finish college as fast as I wanted, but in high school I was staying with my grade."

"And she was right," I said. "Look at how smooth you turned out."

He pushed me. "See, I even like you when you're nicely mean."

We exchanged details of our Thanksgivings. I didn't have much to say because not much happened at my house.

Sam and Harri took longer than a Passover Seder. Both of them mentioned the blessing of me as Jeff's friend. Hearing that gave me chills. His dad mentioned the blessing of having a day he wasn't called in for some emergency.

Sunny stopped in.

"Hi, Ashley. I heard you were here." She gave me a big hug. "How was your Thanksgiving?"

"It was okay."

She got a sad, almost pitying look on her face for an instant, but the smile returned quickly. She ran her hand over my hair.

"Well, it's really nice to see you. I'll leave you two alone." It sounded awfully suggestive.

Jeff rolled his eyes.

I wandered around his room, picking up things, moving things, snooping.

I went to his closet and opened the door.

"Now I know why you dress like that. It's all you have."

"I have a suit and a couple of jackets."

"Nerdwear. I should take you shopping."

"You know, I think my sister needs it more than I do."

He hit the nail on the head with that one. I had some time free on Saturday morning. Maybe I could take her shopping.

What the hell was I thinking? Was I trying to be the me he seemed to like so much? Did I like her? I really didn't know.

"Do you think she'd like me to take her shopping tomorrow? We could pick up a couple things. I could give her some tips."

"She'd be in heaven. I knew I was right about you."

"Don't get all sappy on me."

I had Sunny's credit card with me and I bought Sandy a few things. She started out in awe but she loosened up a bit as we spent time together. I don't have a little sister and it surprised the hell out of me that how much I enjoyed it.

I spent some of my own money to get her some makeup. When we got back to her house, I showed her how to use it.

If I'd had a little more time I would have taken her for a haircut. She was on cloud nine and I felt pretty good about that. Nobody else was home when I left her and I was kind of disappointed to miss them.



-------

Chapter 11


I had always looked forward to my parents' parties in the past. I would be provided with additional opportunities, like a salesman getting live leads.

This year it didn't satisfy. I was starting to look at the guys as people, rather than opportunities, and I didn't much care for them as people.

Was I becoming enlightened? If so, life was much easier when I was ignorant.

I felt exhausted when it was over. It had been an effort and I hadn't enjoyed it. Well, tonight I would get to see my friends, except they really weren't friends. They were people who thought highly of me in a competitive environment where it was advantageous of them to do so, people who would follow my lead. They would fawn over me to curry favor.

But would they offer if I needed a kidney? Well, maybe that's setting the bar a little too high for friendship.

I realized I had only one friend - Jeff. For that matter, if I really needed help, I could probably count on Sunny more than any of the people I had previously thought of as friends. I couldn't think of an accurate name for them. They were more than acquaintances, but far less than friends.

I had a very strong urge to call Jeff and tell him I really did consider him my friend, but talk is cheap. I wanted to show him I would be there for him, in the unlikely event he needed something he couldn't get from his family or his other friends.

Then I had a goofy idea. It wouldn't exactly say I'll be there for you, but it would let him know how important he was to me. I picked up the phone.

"Hi, Sunny. Is Jeff in?"

"Ashley. What you did for Sandy was so sweet. She's on cloud nine. Thank you so much."

"I was happy to do it. She's a really good kid."

Thinking about it brought a smile to my face.

"Just a second, I'll get Jeff."

Having to wait for him didn't change my mind.

"Hi."

"Hi, Jeff. You doing anything tonight?"

"Not really. We'll probably watch a movie here."

"Good. I want to take you to a party."

"What kind of party?" he asked.

"The kind I go to."

"Wouldn't I be kind of out of place there?" he asked.

"Not at all. You'd be with me."

"I'm, stunned. Is this like a date?"

"No, not at all. This is a date."

"Okay. Are you sure? Won't this kind of hurt your status?"

"I won't be losing anything important enough to me to worry about. Have your Mom, have your Dad, I'll be over there to help you pick out something to wear."

Jeff cleaned up pretty good. Put a tie and jacket on the boy and he looked almost, cute.

When it came to conversation, my idiot savant wasn't fully up to the task. Small talk was still in his idiot zone. I didn't care. The inability to talk about unimportant nonsense didn't seem important at all.

I shared my view of him as an idiot savant pointing out his idiot conversation. He was tickled.

He did make some people uncomfortable when he cut straight through their bullshit and focused on what lay behind it. That amused me.

In the few instances where the conversation included something of substance, some of these people were genetically and familially destined to be business and political leaders, he shone. People forgot I was there they were so drawn into discussion with him. Not only did it not bother me to be ignored, I was positively proud of him.

Eventually I had enough of these people, I don't know what the word is, but these people I knew. I said my goodbyes and told him I wanted to go, even though it wasn't that late.

He seemed pretty mellow as I pulled out of the driveway.

"You know, I really didn't think it was going to be much fun, but I had a good time. I'm surprised," Jeff said.

"Stick with me, kid, and you'll go far."

"Back to school?"

"There too."

In just a few minutes I turned into a driveway.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"My house."

"I didn't realize you lived in Gladwyne."

"We moved here after I graduated. I guess the house in Merion wasn't expensive enough. This is."

"I'll say. It looks like a fine old hotel."

"That's no problem, I have a reservation."

"But ma'am, you didn't bring any bags."

"I checked into the room earlier."

"Seriously, what are we doing here?" he asked.

"I wanted to spend a little more time with you."

"So, you're taking me home to meet the folks?"

"Oh God, no. Not until it's absolutely unavoidable."

I'm sure my voice told him the idea was appalling.

"You're still embarrassed by me?"

"I'm embarrassed by them."

I parked and led him in. Jeff's bedroom wasn't small, but it would have easily fit into the front hall. I suppose there were some parts of the house you could have mistaken for a hotel.

"Isn't the concierge on duty tonight?" he asked.

"No. You'll have to rely on me to make the plans."

I took his hand and led him up to my room.

"This isn't your room. This is your quarters."

He explored.

"Whole families could live in your walk-in closet."

I closed my door. His childlike wonder at my rooms and the wealth they represented was endearing. This night had been one of the best I ever had. He was most of the reason.

I'd sort of had it in the back of my mind, but at that point I realized I really wanted him, not because I was in the mood for sex, though I was, but because he was Jeff.

I grabbed his jacket, pulled it off of him and started kissing him. I loosened and ripped off the tie and dispatched his shirt. I slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders and reached for his belt as the dress dropped. There was no thought, no planning behind this. I just had to have him.

I pulled him over to my bed by the waist of his pants, unzipped them, released them and pushed him down on the bed. I unhooked my bra and tossed it.

I kicked off my shoes and knelt before him. I yanked off his shoes without untying them and threw them somewhere behind me.

I stripped off his socks and hauled down his boxers and tossed them too. I dropped my panties and jumped onto the bed with him.

"Slow down," he said. "You have to savor this."

"Shut up. Sometimes you're starved, you see the perfect burger, and you just have to scarf it down."

I kissed him passionately and he returned it. I kissed my way down his body. He was as aroused as I was. I slowly took him into my mouth, savoring the scent, the texture, the desire. I sucked it. I licked it.

It aroused me the way it had aroused him when he did all those things to me. Boy, did it arouse me. I didn't linger because there were other things I wanted to do. I could get back to this another time.

I released him, climbed over him and impaled myself in one quick stroke. My need was urgent. I moved up and down on him rapidly and an orgasm overtook me within a minute. I didn't slacken my pace until I noticed his movements change. I dropped my chest onto his and rolled to my right, pulling him on top of me.

"Fuck me. Fast. Hard. Just do it."

He did.

As I was reaching a second, intense orgasm, he had his. He was almost spasmodic.

He lay there on top of me for a while, breathing heavily but otherwise not moving. Then he rolled off.

"That was intense. Not much planning. Not artful, but intense," he said.

"Who are you, the sex critic for the Inquirer? Sometimes you just have to go with your passion, let your instinct take over. Don't you ever do anything without planning?"

"Not if I can help it."

I thought for a moment of how best to explain it.

"You consider yourself an amusing guy, don't you?"

"Well, yeah. I guess."

"Stop with the false modesty. You're very funny. When you come up with one of those great quips, do you analyze the preceding syntax and context? Do you sift through all the implications and determine which would make the best philosophical, political or sociological humor?"

"Are you making fun of the way I talk?" he asked.

"Yes. Or does it just happen by instinct?"

"I just do it. It's instinct."

"There you have it. I just wanted to express what I was feeling." I nearly added, "about you."

"It was intense. It was exactly what fit the situation. It was instinct."

He thought about it, a look of concentration on his face. He lay on his side, propped up by an arm looking at me. Then he smiled.

"I guess this is one of those situations where I'm idiot. You can be very wise."

My smile got even bigger. I was feeling emotional goose bumps.

"Do you have a bathroom I could use?"

I pointed to a door next to my walk-in closet. What's a bedroom suite without a bathroom?

He made his way toward the door. I rolled onto my side to watch him. What a cute little ass.

I smelled the pillow and the sheets where he had just been. His scent was rich and intoxicating. He had grown on me so much and so quickly I couldn't fight the feeling that I was falling for him completely.

My careful plans for my life had been demolished. I could see a life with him, but it had none of the structure, none of the milestones I had always sought to construct. My vision was composed entirely of instinct.

His "revenge" was complete. The unapproachable, unattainable ice maiden desperately wanted the unavailable nerd.

How would I convince him I had matured sufficiently in such a short time? How could I make him understand that I wanted to spend my life with my nerd, Sunny, Sam, Harri, Sandy and his, so far, absent dad; that I wanted to have his nerd children?

I didn't even know how I was going to explain it to myself.



-------

Chapter 12


Wiry. That was the word that came to mind as he padded back naked from the bathroom. There were none of the bulging muscles of the wrestlers. But he wasn't flabby at all. Everything was solid, there just wasn't that much of it.

It wasn't as cute as his ass, but, then again, what was?

He was detumescent. Isn't that a lovely sounding word?

When you read the classics of erotic literature, you read detumescent, rather than limp. I'm not uneducated.

I may have been shallow and lazy, but I do read and I have a fine mind. Vocabulary was never a problem.

Jeff was eighteen, and in what should be his sexual prime. I had little doubt that I could coax him to tumesce. I could induce him to become turgid. I had no doubt about my ability to cause him to engorge.

When I was finished starting with him he would be distended, not to mention that he would be erect, rigid. What a lovely language that provides so many ways to describe male arousal.

I wondered what it said about our attitude toward women that the only word I could come up with to describe my state of arousal was lubricated. Where is our vocabulary?

It was early enough to fit in another round and get him home before anyone became concerned about where he was. I pointed to a painting on the opposite wall. He rolled onto his side, facing away from me, to look at it.

I started kissing between his shoulder blades. I softly ran my hands down the backs of his arms. I kissed all around his back, moving ever lower. I eventually arrived at that adorable ass. I kissed and licked at both cheeks, moving ever closer to the center.

I was implying that I was about to do something I had never done. It didn't seem sanitary and I had never had enough interest in any guy to even consider it. I wasn't considering it now either, but I'll bet he was thinking about it.

I reached around him and found I had achieved my goal. He was ready for round two. I pushed him onto his back, climbed on and impaled myself. I too was ready.

I love this position - female superior. I don't just love the position, I love the sound of it - female superior. It had a dual meaning for me since I had been the superior in every relationship in which I had been involved.

The position also gave me complete control of my pleasure. I could twist and tilt, rock, squeeze and generally achieve friction and pressure anywhere I wanted. I could control the tempo. I control the horizontal. I control the vertical. Wait a minute, that's The Outer Limits.

Jeff seemed to be enjoying himself just fine. His moans and grunts would have been indication enough without the urgent thrusting of his hips. Fortunately, I was pretty close myself.

Jeff pressed a hand against my abdomen and I felt the increased pressure. It took me to a whole new level. There was pressure, there was tension, there was electricity. There was ... oooh.

That was intense. My toes tingled. The sensations kept hitting me in waves. Finally, as it subsided, I collapsed on him, enervated.

I put my arms around him and squeezed tight. I held on as I slowly caught my breath.

"What the hell was that, and is there ever going to be a time I stop asking you that question?"

"It was in the book. It puts pressure on your bladder which is supposed to make it more intense. I'm not really clear on why, but the book said it does."

"Damn."

"So it works, huh?" he asked.

"Damn. Did you plan this out, too?"

"No. I was just, in the moment. I suddenly remembered and thought I'd see if it worked. I guess it did."

"I guess it did. Wow. Thank you, sir. Did you -"

"Yep. You, oh, it was good."

Yes, it was. We lay there for quite a while. He didn't seem to be suffering under my weight. We couldn't stay indefinitely, though.

"I need to get you home, young man. What would your Father say if I got you home too late? What would he think of me, besmirching the honor of his innocent son?"

"I think he would feel my honor was intact, if not my innocence. My Mother, however..."

"I certainly don't want to get on her bad side."

"Why? She's a sweetheart. Did she say anything to make you afraid of her?"

"No. I really like her. I don't want to get on her bad side because I really like her."

"She likes you too. She said you didn't seem to be the same girl you were back in high school."

"I never met her back in high school."

"Your name may have come up in conversation," Jeff said.

"So how come nobody was hostile? In fact they were downright friendly when I stopped in."

"In our house, you screw up, you understand what you did, you have remorse, you get a clean slate."

"It's that easy? Damn, I want to be in your family."

"Only one way to do that."

What was he talking about?

"Wait just a minute," I stammered.

"I'm teasing you. It's a tad premature for that."

"Amen. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"This is a funny conversation to be having naked."

"Right. I've got to get you home. It would be nice to just lie here, but we'd better get a move on."

It would have been nice. Had I felt this way before? I didn't recall the emotion. It seems to me I had felt it's done, it was fun, time to run.

Who knows? I was probably being influenced by the newness of it.

I gave Jeff a lingering kiss when I dropped him off. If we had been back at my place I would have tested his eighteen-year-old capacity for recovery.

I slept well that night. I didn't lie awake wondering about where this was going or what I needed to do to get there. I just enjoyed it.



-------

Chapter 13


I cruised by Jeff's around noon. I didn't honk the horn because I wanted to see the whole family.

Harri opened the door. "Ashley, so nice to see you. I think Jeff will be ready soon." She gave me a delicious hug.

She released me, but before I could answer her I was driven back by a tackle worthy of the most ferocious linebacker.

"Ashley," said Sandy. She had her head buried in my chest and her arms held me against her as if she was afraid I would flee.

I tousled her hair. "How have you been, Sandy?"

"Fantastic. I have Sam and Harri here, Jeff is home for the weekend and I met you. It's like a big, long birthday." She simply bubbled.

I couldn't recognize the aroma, but I was sure Sam was in the kitchen whipping up some unknown delight.

Sunny came down the stairs with a man who had to be Jeff's dad. He reminded me of Louis Skolnick from Revenge of The Nerds: white shirt, black-rimmed glasses, thin, dark polyester pants, everything but the pocket protector. His hair was combed down to the left. How did Sunny let him look like this?

Oh, yeah, this was a family of be who you are. Sandy might not know who she was, and I wasn't sure about Jeff, but for sure Sam, Harri, Sunny and, what's his name, did.

"Hi, Ashley." She came over to give me a hug. "I don't think you've met Louis, my husband."

It was all I could do to contain my compulsion to giggle. I coughed.

I reached out my hand to shake and that seemed to be an acceptable greeting to him.

"Nice to meet you, Louis."

"Nice to meet you, too. Sunny speaks highly of you."

Sunny? What about Jeff?

"Sam's busy cooking or I'm sure he'd be out here to say hello," said Sunny.

Sandy still had an arm around me, but not with the intensity with which she had attacked.

Sunny put her hand on my bicep and slowly drew it down to my elbow. "Jeff will be down soon," she said. "He's finishing up packing."

"I'm sorry I didn't get much of a chance to meet you, Ashley," said Louis. "I hope you'll come see us over the Christmas vacation."

"Uh, sure. I'd love to."

Sunny still had a hold of my elbow and was escorting me to the living room.

"Just a little girl talk. I'll have her back in a jiffy."

What was going on here? Was this like the dad taking the young man into his parlor to tell him what he would do to him if he messed with his daughter?

She directed me to the plush, chocolate brown sofa and sat immediately to my left.

"I love Louis with all my heart. He's an intelligent, sometimes brilliant, loving, caring, giving man. He goes out of his way to try to do things to make me happy, and that makes me very happy.

"He often doesn't understand what would make me happy. He'll bring me a cherry-filled donut, remembering how much I loved them before I had to watch what I eat, because he thinks it will make me happy. And it does. But only because he's gone out of his way to do something for me, not because the donut is anything special."

She paused and looked meaningfully at me.

What?

I've met Sunny. Jeff has told me things about her. I knew she had some really important point she was trying to get across but, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it was.

I remained silent long enough for her to realize that she was going to have to be a bit more specific for me to understand.

"As smart as he is, Louis is not especially adept socially. He also doesn't understand relationships all that well. It doesn't really hurt him because he was lucky enough to find me and because he has such a generous heart. But if he had to go out looking again, he'd probably spend the rest of his life alone."

She paused again. It was interesting, but I still didn't get her point.

"Jeff has some of those genes. I don't know how he'll turn out, but right now he's almost as clueless as Louis."

Aha!

"I don't know a lot about your background and your experiences. I believe you have a kind heart. I doubt you've ever had to deal with anyone like Jeff. It could be difficult for both of you."

She squeezed my hand and paused again.

No she didn't. She wasn't pausing. She was done.

Yikes! Is she helping me or Jeff or both of us? Is she predicting we'll fail and just trying to get me ready for it?

"Thank you," for confusing the crap out of me.

She rose and I accepted the signal. She put her arm around my shoulder and led me back to the foyer.

Sam was dancing his way towards us singing,

"Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone? They paved paradise, put up a parking lot."

Was he too telling me something or was he just in a good mood, singing something from his hippie days? Maybe he had heard it from Counting Crows.

He took the back of my head in his hands and planted a big kiss on my cheek.

"Ashley, so nice to see you again."

"You too, Sam."

I loved it. I was accepted like a family member without having to do anything to earn it. It was a nice feeling. I had probably earned it, but it would not have been required. Is that how it's supposed to be?

"When are you coming home again, Ashley." Sandy seemed excited at the prospect.

"Probably not until winter break."

I ran my hand over her hair. It was fun to suddenly have a little sister. I was no stranger to adulation but this was more like admiration. I could get used to it. This whole scene put a big smile on my face. All that was missing was having the family dog jump up to lick my face, and Jeff.

He came down the stairs.

"I don't know if they're going to let you leave. Guys, I can't get back to school without her."

We made our cheerful goodbyes, hugs all around. I felt a little sad leaving. I could happily spend a lot of time here.

Jeff picked up his backpack and we headed out to my car.



-------

Chapter 14


I was very mellow as I headed for the Schuylkill Expressway. We weren't doing anything special. We were just heading back to campus together. I was thinking about some of the things we might do together at school.

Jeff was quietly enjoying the journey as well. Wasn't he? I couldn't tell from the look on his face. He looked like he might be distracted. Was I just thinking too much?

I needed to get a little perspective here. Despite all the supposedly fabulous men I had dated, I had never really had a boyfriend.

Shocking, isn't it?

What was the value in having a boyfriend? I could get a quality date whenever I wanted, to do whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted. I could have as little or as much sex as I wanted, and whatever kind I wanted. I could have complete control over any situation.

A boyfriend would feel entitled to make demands on my time, on my attention, to have some say in the relationship. What did I need that for when I could get everything I wanted at no cost?

Maybe this wasn't love and forever after; maybe it was just infatuation. Perhaps I had just been caught up in the moment. It was a most excellent moment to be sure, but a moment nonetheless.

I loved being with Jeff, but I could do that whenever I wanted without having to make any kind of commitment.

Well, maybe I couldn't. I would ask him for a specific time and he wasn't always available. That had never happened to me before. Was this the flip side of guys wanting a girl because she made herself unavailable?

No way. Jeff was too open and honest to play a game like that. He was also too inexperienced according to Sunny. He probably didn't even know there was such a game.

I wasn't sure how I felt about him because I was in uncharted territory. I wanted to get closer to him, but at the same time it was a little scary.

I also didn't know how to approach him. He might respond to my being honest and straightforward, though I had no experience acting like that with anyone but him.

I should have thought about this before I drove over to get him.

Was this extended silence the awkward silence of two people who can't think of anything to say to each other, growing more oppressive with each tick of the clock? Or was it the timeless, comfortable silence of two people enjoying just being together?

If I came on too strong, that would drive most guys away. Not from me, but from most girls. But then I remembered what Jen had said. She thought she was falling in love with him and he had convinced her she wasn't. As long as I didn't pursue him like a stalker, he would not completely reject me.

"I had such a good time Saturday night," I said. "I don't think I've ever enjoyed myself more."

I am no stranger to the diplomacy of social intercourse and, even better, this time it was true.

"Me too. I think that's the first time I've ever felt at all comfortable at a party with people I didn't know," he said.

"It wasn't just the party. I've been to lots of those before. I had a really good time being there with you," I said.

I glanced and he was smiling broadly. I guess it had been a most excellent moment for him as well.

He kept smiling but he didn't say anything. Let's see if we can get this moving in a productive direction.

"You know, Jeff, after my initial awkwardness, I've really enjoyed all the time we've spent together."

True enough, although the awkwardness was more like a huge chip on my shoulder. I can spin with the best of them.

"Me too."

Two fucking syllables? Help me out here, dude.

"I'm looking forward to spending more time with you back at school."

"Yeah."

It made me long for the days of two syllables.

Yeah he knew I wanted to spend more time with him or yeah he wanted to spend it with me too?

Maybe Sunny was wrong. Maybe he was actually brilliant in social situations. Give me enough to satisfy me without committing to anything. Let me try it a different way.

"Finals are coming up soon. I hope I'll have the time to see you."

"We can study together. I can help you out."

Way to step up, big boy.

"That would be nice."

Now that the important stuff was out of the way I could just relax and enjoy the conversation.

It ranged all over the place but he was often drawn back to politics, especially as it could be understood in the context of history. He not only had a reason for all of his positions, he had a historical parallel. And passion. I could imagine him on the debate team, eviscerating his opponents with gusto.

He helped me out on something that had piqued my curiosity: Sandy's reverence for me.

"You came over to pick up a paper from me back in high school. Sandy saw you and you were like a movie star to her, so gorgeous, so glamorous. She imbued you with all the positive attributes we tend to associate with beautiful people. Also, she never heard about the incident."

"Thanks for keeping that from her," I said.

The drive was way too short. I pulled up to my place first, rather than dropping him off at his dorm.

"Would you like to come in and help me unpack?"

"You only brought one bag. Why do you need help?"

Nope, he was not socially brilliant.

"Would you like to come in and help me unpack?"

"Oh. Sure."

But he was educable.



-------

Chapter 15


Monday we studied together.

He made sure we actually studied. I don't think he did any studying before he came because he brought such a big stack of books in his book bag that it looked like he was carrying them to build up his muscles rather than to prepare for his courses.

"Why all the books? That's gotta be at least twice as many books as I have for all my courses."

"I'm taking a heavy load."

"How heavy?"

"I'd say about fifty pounds."

I rolled my eyes. I was waiting for the cigar and the magic word.

"Around 30 credits," he said.

"That's a full year."

"I'm not getting any younger. I've got to get through here and move on with my life."

"If you were any younger it wouldn't be legal for me to date you. I thought you skipped years of some of your courses."

"I skipped them but I don't get credit for them. I need to take the full four years worth of credits."

"Why are they letting you take so much?" I asked.

"I don't know. I guess they figure there are plenty of people to take my place."

No. I had learned in some business class that it's much easier to keep a customer than to get a new one. If they could sign us all up to go here for the rest of our lives, they would.

"What's the real reason?"

"Why does there have to be a reason?"

What was he hiding?

"There's always a reason." He was avoiding my eyes. "You know the reason. Tell me."

He was as reluctant to talk about this as most guys are to tell you their deepest feelings.

"Come on," I said.

"They're recruiting me for grad school."

"You're a first-term freshman."

His head was down. "I know."

Jen was right. Not only would I be telling everyone I knew, I'd be telling the limo driver, the mailman, our cook. If he was a freshman basketball player being recruited for the NBA, he would be full of himself.

Maybe it isn't legal for them to recruit a freshman. I don't know.

Jeff seemed embarrassed about it. I hoped he would stay that way. Well, not embarrassed, but not full of himself.

At times he whipped through the pages. Other times he would close a book, keeping place with his fingers and stare off into space as if he were thinking about, I don't know, a Star Trek convention, evaluating what he had just read. He was remarkably focused. I couldn't tell if he was aware I was in the room with him.

"I've had it," I said. "That's enough for one night for me."

For some reason, all this work had not left me very passionate.

"Want to watch the news?"

"Sure."

I turned on the TV and snuggled in his arms. It felt very nice.

I awoke still in his arms.

"The news just finished. I think you need to get some sleep," he said.

"I guess you're right.". I stretched. I yawned.

But first I needed a nice kiss, a nice, long kiss. What did I say about lacking passion?

It wasn't as long as I would have liked. He pulled away.

"You need your sleep. We can do this again."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow." That's from Shakespeare someplace. I'm sure Jeff could tell me. That's how it was going. We were getting together every day to study at my place.

Sometimes it was so tiring I just needed to get to sleep and sometimes I had enough energy to drag him into the bedroom. One time I just did him on the couch.

As the weekend approached I asked him out to dinner on Saturday.

"Is this a date?"

"Of course it's a date. What do you think we've been doing? Study dates."

"Oh yeah. I kind of, well, yeah, okay."

Silver-tongued devil. Try to suppress your enthusiasm, why don't you?

"I asked, my treat."

"That's, I don't know. Aren't I supposed to, uh?"

He couldn't seem to find any word to follow "uh". Had English suddenly become a second language for him?

"Look, I asked. I have enough money that I won't feel it, and I want to do something nice as well as spend the time with you."

Holy shit! I was being sincere. It came out before I had a chance to spin it.

"All right. What time?"

"Six. What do you want to do Friday?"

"Friday?"

"You know, the day that follows Thursday."

"Oh, that Friday. Uh, I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

"I'll see what's playing at the movies and what's happening on campus. Maybe a party."

"Yeah." It sounded like it had three syllables.

Despite his recent success, he was still not a party animal.

"Okay, I'll call you after my last class."

"Okay."

"Now let's consummate this planned dinner date."

I took his hand and led him to my lair.

It was slow and gentle, the way he had taught me. The way he had taught me would drive me crazy.

I've heard that one of the most important and pleasurable parts of an event, like our upcoming dinner date, is the anticipation, the expectation.

The anticipation of my impending orgasms was exquisite in itself.

But it was also frustrating and I would sometimes reach the point where I would yell out, "Now, soon, anytime, please," or some other well-thought-out phrase. And, at the end, I would often wind up clinging to him like a piece of driftwood on a lonely sea.



-------

Chapter 16


I checked the local events and found something I knew he would like: a concert called "The Fifths." Beethoven's Fifth Symphony for the first half, and Tchaikovsky's Fifth for the second.

He hadn't seemed all that enthused when I suggested we get together on Friday, but when I told him about the tickets he sounded like a little boy going to the circus.

He stopped by for me after dinner.

We shared a lovely kiss.

"Thank you so much for finding this concert. I know everybody knows Beethoven's Fifth, but I love the Tchaikovsky." He bubbled with excitement.

"I know how you can thank me."

A nice long kiss.

"Dinner at the dorm was vile tonight, but it is paid for."

"That's the curse of the food pass," I said

"I think they must have a special school to learn how to make food that bad. I've royally screwed up recipes that wound up tasting better than that."

"Well tomorrow we'll get you a respite."

"You sure know how to take care of a guy."

Yes, I did. I had no idea how I knew because I'd never gone out of my way to do it before. Maybe it's just instinct. Maybe I was finding a part of myself I never knew existed.

I got the tickets for Jeff. I knew he would love it, so I could endure it. I would be more inclined to go to a concert that featured metal instead of brass.

The Beethoven was familiar. I think it was made into some popular song a while ago. But the Tchaikovsky really got to me. It was passionate and energetic and every time I thought it was over, it kept on going. I hadn't the remotest idea I would like classical music.

Jeff was humming along and bouncing up and down in his seat. My friends, I gave in and used the closest word, would have found it worthy of ridicule. I found it endearing. I found it arousing. I took him home and had my way with him.

For the first time in my life, I had a man stay the night. I awoke to find him sleeping peacefully. I was assaulted by the intensity of the feelings I had for him.

This had to be infatuation. It was far too intense to be love.

I snuggled up against him and waited for him to wake up.

It didn't take long and I had my first encounter with what I had only been told about by the girls - early morning tumescence. I put it to good use.

I made us eggs and bacon. Wasn't I the little homemaker?

Jeff told me he had to go so he could study. He seemed uneasy, but I couldn't put my finger on what exactly it was I was feeling from him.

"See you later," I said.

"Yeah."

Enough with the "Yeah."

I picked him up at his dorm Saturday evening. God, he looked good.

No, he didn't. He didn't look bad but, objectively, he wasn't going to blow anyone away. But he looked good to me, and that was more than enough. Then again, maybe he did look good but suffered by comparison to the museum-quality specimens I had dated before.

We had reservations at The Brass Rail. It would have been quite expensive for Jeff. For me, it was cheaper than McDonald's.

"Nice place."

He was looking around as if he was a little surprised that a place like this existed in a college town and a little uncomfortable to be in it.

"Probably not what I would have picked" he said in a charming bit of understatement.

"That's the advantage of having different backgrounds. We get to share each other's knowledge and experience."

A waiter approached.

"Nice to see you, Miss Fine."

He put down a small Caesar Salad in front of each of us.

"Thank you, Arnault." He retreated.

"Do they give everybody a Caesar no matter what they order?"

"No. I took the liberty. I know your tastes so I would like you to give me the opportunity to take you through this experience the way you have taken me through, other experiences."

He smiled.

I smiled.

Arnault would have smiled had he still been here.

Most of the men, boys, I knew would not have smiled. They would not be content to let a woman take charge like that.

"It's very good Caesar Salad," said Jeff.

Arnault cleared and came back with orange sorbet.

Jeff giggled. This was clearly one of those times when no words were necessary. We just sat there and ate and enjoyed being together.

A busgirl cleared and Arnault returned with a soup.

"Roasted acorn squash soup with duck rillette and fried sage."

Jeff leaned in and whispered. "Do you think his name is really Arnault? His accent does sound French."

"I think his name is Harry and he went to French accent school."

Jeff didn't seem to realize I was joking.

"Do you really think so?"

I laughed.

"I have no idea."

"Aaaaah," Jeff said as he took his first spoonful.

"It's a good thing we're sitting across from each other or people would think I'm fondling you."

"You have a wicked sense of humor. I love it," he said.

I love you would have been better, but I was too happy to quibble.

"This is so good. I'm going to have to leave myself in your hands more often."

He bowed ever so slightly and lowered his head in a gesture of appreciation.

One busgirl later, Arnault returned with lemon sorbet.

Jeff didn't giggle this time, he laughed. People looked. I didn't care.

"You have to savor a good meal," I said. "You wouldn't want to rush through the appetizers so you could slam down the burger."

"Is that what I'm having, a burger?"

"Patience, young sir. Each course is to be savored. Fine dining is a journey, not a destination."

"I bow to your wisdom."

"Ashley knows a thing or two about foreplay."

"I've never heard anyone refer to herself in the third person in such a charming way," he said.

"Geeze, if anybody is listening to us this must be sickening," I said.

I suspect he was as uncomfortable and inexperienced at this as I was.

Arnault appeared with Filet Mignon with Bernaise sauce on the side for Jeff with broccoli and baby carrots, lightly buttered. Fine dining tends to be expensive in calories as well as money. He placed sesame crusted salmon with garlic couscous in front of me.

"I know how to make that. Sam taught me."

God, I loved his boyish enthusiasm, among other things. He cut into the filet.

"Just to the rare side of medium rare."

He put down his fork, reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

"Ashley, this is so amazingly thoughtful. Thank you."

Ashley, you're so beautiful. Ashley, you're so incredibly hot. What can I get you? Where can I take you? Ashley, you're amazing. That's what I was used to hearing. That had been the reward I reaped for playing my role and being my beautiful self.

Compared to what Jeff had just said, it was the emotional equivalent of, "Please pass the salt."

I got chills. I almost got dizzy. I might even have swooned, if I were sure exactly what a swoon was. I was so giddy I was unable to form a response. I just smiled stupidly. Well, it felt stupid. I'm sure he interpreted it as something else.

Jeff ate and he looked at me. It wasn't the look I was used to. It wasn't the she's-so-gorgeous-I-have-to-take-in-all-I-can look. It was a she's-wonderful look. I hadn't seen it before, but I recognized it. This dinner was the absolute best moment of my life to this point. I seemed to be having a lot of those.

Dessert for me was raspberries, kiwi, blueberries, cantaloupe and cherries with whipped cream. Arnault brought Jeff a chocolate mousse. He tasted it and simply said, "Oh, my," and closed his eyes.

Arnault brought me the check and I paid with my credit card. This portion of the foreplay was over. I drove us back to my place.

I led Jeff to the living room by the hand and started kissing him. I slipped off his jacket. I resumed kissing and loosened his tie. He reached for the zipper on my dress. I slapped his hand away.

"Patience, young sir. Each course is to be savored. Fine dining is a journey, not a destination."

I pulled off his tie and tossed it somewhere. My arms moved over his shoulders and behind his neck. I caught his upper lip between my teeth and squeezed too lightly to cause any damage.

I unbuttoned his shirt, his white, dress shirt with a button down collar. He had learned a lot from Sunny, but it clearly did not include how to dress. It didn't matter to me. I wasn't putting together a spread for GQ.

I pushed his arms down and let his shirt slip to the floor. He wore no undershirt. I lightly scratched his pecs. He was pressing against me to get me to move, almost like he was leading a dance stop. His destination seemed to be the bedroom.

"What's the hurry?" I asked. "Do you have somewhere to go?"

I caressed his face as I kissed him. My hands ran down his back and past the belt. I squeezed those adorable cheeks through his pants.

He pushed again. I resisted.

He laughed. How sexy was that?

I grabbed the front of his belt with my hand, as if to lead him away to the bedroom.

"When is your first final?" I asked.

"Uh, a week from Monday. Can we talk about that later?"

"Intermezzo." But my tone was seductive.

"You're a remarkable woman."

"That I am." Then I led him to the bedroom.

I unzipped my basic black dress and brushed the spaghetti straps from my shoulders. It floated to the floor. I stepped out of my heels, took his hands and sat him down on the bed. I got behind him and started to massage his shoulders.

"Oh, my."

Oh, my indeed. Soon the massage turned in to a caress. I kissed him between his shoulder blades and skimmed my hands down his arms.

"Oh, my." He moaned.

I removed my pantyhose and walked around in front of him. I took his head in my hands and drew it in against my stomach and held him there, savoring his aroma, feeling his heat.

Finally, I tilted his head up to face me and he stood. We kissed and our hands started to roam. At last his pace matched mine. There was no rush, no urgency. What was important was the journey.

Clothing came off at a leisurely pace. Caresses lingered and teased. Even the kiss had no urgency. It was both gentle and transcendent.

We settled on the bed and explored. There was no technique, no planning, just expressions of our emotions. He moved on top of me, inside me until we both achieved ecstatic release. And then every muscle in my body relaxed.

I had not been promiscuous, but I'd had my share of college sex. This was the first time I had made love. It astonished me how different they were.

I smiled. Every cell in my body was at peace. And I slept.

We had shifted during the night. The covers were gone. My first sight in the morning was that adorable ass. I wanted to bite it, but I wasn't sure he would understand.

I tossed on a silk robe, to the extent that you can toss on silk, and went into the kitchen for some Cheerios and milk. Jeff followed shortly and he had some too.

He glanced at the clock. "God, I have to leave. I have a tutoring session."

I kissed him and gave him a dreamy, "Bye."

His was more perfunctory.



-------

Chapter 17


I called in the afternoon to see when we could get together that night, but he wasn't there. I left a message. It struck me as curious, but I had enough work to keep me busy that I didn't give it much thought.

I called that night and left a message. I couldn't imagine where he could be, but I had countless pages in front of me and speculating on his whereabouts was not going to get me through them.

Monday: no answer, message, no return. I was starting to panic. Had something happened to him? Had I done something to scare him away? Or, worse yet, had all this been an elaborate setup to get his revenge on me?

I know it sounds ridiculous, especially given the way his family had treated me. That would have taken one huge, whopping conspiracy.

Jeff had introduced me to yet another new emotion - insecurity. I didn't like it.

Tuesday, no Jeff. I got his roommate. He didn't know where Jeff was. No call. Clearly, something was going on but I had no idea what.

I heard nothing on Wednesday. It was like he had disappeared from the face of the earth. For a very brief moment I considered calling the FBI until I realized how completely ridiculous that would be.

The ache of not knowing where he was, of just not being with him, was overwhelming. Was this the price of love or infatuation or whatever it was? I wasn't sure I was willing to pay it.

On the other hand, how do I avoid paying it? How do I stop feeling the need to be with him? How do I give up the excitement of anticipating that I'm going to be with him?

The steps I had taken to get into this situation had been voluntary, but now that I was here, it didn't seem voluntary at all. We weren't exactly at the point where I could say I had a life with him, but the thought of a life without him was too painful to contemplate.

Finals would be starting next week and I had no more classes. The best thing I could do to maximize my studying would be to find out what was going on with Jeff.

Since I couldn't manage to contact him, I tried the next best thing, someone I thought of as a friend - his Mother. I tracked her down Thursday morning at the U of P. I started calling a little before 8:00 so I wouldn't have to wait to talk to her until her classes were finished. She got in around quarter to nine.

"What's wrong, Ashley?"

"Nothing. It's, I just wanted to talk."

"You don't sound like it's nothing. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm, I'm fine."

"Great. Well, it was nice talking to you."

"No." I said it with just a little too much urgency.

"My last class ends at one. We can talk then."

"Can I come in there to talk?"

"All the way from school?"

"Yes."

"Sure. I'm glad nothing is wrong." Biting wits those Goldbergs.

She gave me directions to find her office and I packed up some books for study. I could read them in her office.

I felt terrible. This is why you don't get emotionally involved with anyone. It hurts. It sucks.

I cranked up the music on my radio and sang along with gusto. It kept my mind off my problem, some of the time. I couldn't think of any way to approach it. I couldn't think of any reason it was happening. All I could do was hurt.

I persuaded Sunny's secretary to let me wait in her office. It was kind of neat, except there were books everywhere. Maybe the University's office furniture code only allowed a tenured professor a desk, some chairs, a filing cabinet and as many bookshelves as she wanted.

I forced myself to study. I was taking time away from it with this trip, and I thought I better get in as much as I could. Funny, I didn't recall being this serious about finals in the past. Jeff was a bad influence.

Sunny breezed in a little after one, in a bright print dress that looked more like summer fun than a history professor.

"Ashley, you don't look so good, sweetie. What's wrong?" She closed the door and sat at her desk. She looked almost unbearably perky. "Did something happen with you and Jeff?"

"I don't know what's happened with me and Jeff." My voice was shaky.

I didn't know how to proceed. I'd never had this kind of conversation before. I had never even conceived of this kind of conversation.

"Tell me about it. Did you guys have a fight on the way back?"

"No. I thought everything was great. We got together every night. He even slept over twice. I took him to a concert Friday night and Saturday night I took him to dinner. It was like Cinderella and Prince Charming."

Sunny laughed. "I could buy you as Cinderella, but you have to admit, Jeff as Prince Charming is pretty funny."

That drew out my first smile in days.

"Well, it was wonderful. It was romantic. He came back to my place and we, uh, had a wonderful time. He left after breakfast to go to a tutoring job and I haven't heard from him since.

"His roommate won't tell me where he is. He doesn't return my messages. I don't understand what's happening."

"Would I be correct in assuming that this is your first real relationship? Is Jeff the first guy you've really liked?"

"Yeah. I didn't think about it that way. I went with guys, but it was like, really no big deal. They did what I wanted; I was always in charge. But I really like Jeff."

"Have you guys talked about your relationship?"

"No. Are we supposed to?"

She answered that with a laugh. "Did Jeff tell you anything about his relationship history?"

"No. I really didn't think about it."

"Ah."

She reached across her desk and grasped my hand in a gesture of caring and then released it.

"I'll, have to think about what I can tell you. Jeff has talked to me and I'm not sure I should say anything about that.

"On the other hand, I've lived with him and there are things I've observed that probably wouldn't be wrong to talk about. If I talk to Jeff, can I tell him anything we talk about?"

"I don't know. I guess it depends on what we talk about."

"Fair enough. After you rejected him, Jeff was pretty shaken up. He lost his confidence. He had confidence in who he was, not how he related to girls, because he never had. He just thought of them as people with different anatomical characteristics.

"He figured it was just another thing he could do. He didn't go on his first date until he was a senior, and she asked him to her prom. I don't know if he's changed enough to talk about it now, but he was a recluse with girls."

"Oh, God, I feel terrible" I said.

"You weren't being malicious. You were just being who you were, not who you are now."

Sunny had a generous heart. It still made me sad to hear it.

"A little later in his senior year he had the courage to ask someone to his prom and she accepted.

"That's it. That's his entire dating history before college. Neither of you had any romantic experience, but at least you knew all about dating, the rules, the moves. He was clueless. When he went off to college, he, well..."

She decided not to continue with the thought. He was a virgin when he went to college? How could he learn so much so quickly? Just from books?

"Anyway, we talked about it. He was nervous. You can't imagine how it feels to be able to talk to your kid like that."

Yes, I could. I could hear it in her voice. If she thought I was going to harm Jeff, she could easily have buried an axe in my skull.

If someone were going to harm me, my Mother would see if she could have somebody look into it.

"I told him nobody in college would know about him. If he acted confident, like he knew what he was doing, people would accept that as the truth. It was a new group of people, a new experience and he could be whoever he decided he was.

"And it worked. He said he was having a great time and people accepted him for who he had decided to be - confident. You realize that's just over three months?"

"Three months? That's, that doesn't seem possible. He had the confidence not to put up with any of my crap. How did he do that so fast?"

"He knew intuitively he didn't deserve to be mistreated. And, Jeff learns very quickly."

"I noticed. Wow."

"Yeah, that's why it might be better if you had a girlfriend who was a contemporary to talk to."

"Are you where Jeff learned to talk like that?"

"Well, yes and no. He started reading before he was two. We weren't around enough to read all the stories he wanted to hear so he taught himself to read and when we weren't available, he read.

"He wasn't reading that internet IOW or IMO language, but real books. So that's where he learned to talk the way he does."

"I haven't developed any contemporary girlfriends," I confirmed.

"Anyway, I can't say for certain that in those three short months he hasn't had any girlfriends, but I'm pretty sure you're the first," said Sunny.

"He said I was his girlfriend?" That was exciting.

"No. But it's obvious from both of you."

"So, why is he avoiding me? This, I thought this was supposed to be a good thing. I mean, if I knew it could be this bad, I don't think I would have started anything with him."

Sunny just sat there, giving me the opportunity to think.

"Yes, I would. He just, got under my skin so fast. It feels so good and it feels so rotten. What do I do?"

"This is a little awkward. Isn't there anyone else you can talk with? A friend?"

I hung my head. I didn't want to lie and I was desperate.

"No, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It would just be nice if you had a best friend."

"I've thought about that. I was too shallow to let that happen."

"You're a remarkable girl, really."

"Jeff said that too."

She smiled, understanding and sympathetic. "So this is the first guy you've really cared for and it's wonderful."

I nodded.

"Is it at all scary?"

"Like crazy."

"And we figure you're the first girl Jeff really cared for. Do you think he might be scared?" Sunny asked.

"I didn't give him any reason to be. I see him all the time and I, care so much for him."

"You see him all the time and this is his first experience with that. So you've arranged it so that he doesn't have time to see anyone else, to make a decision about this?"

"No. That's not it at all. I want to see him. I want to be with him."

"Might he see it as being too confining? Might he see it as you two didn't talk about it; you just presented him with a fait accompli? Maybe he thinks he needs more dating experience before he can figure out what to do."

"Is that how he sees it?" I asked.

"I don't know. There's only one way to find out."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Talk to him."

"Oh, yeah. But I can't talk to him; he won't take my calls or get back to me."

"At least now you know what to talk about. You're a pretty assertive girl, --"

"That's a nice way to put it," I interrupted.

"go to his room. Intimidate his roommate and wait there until he comes back. Is that something you could do?"

"In my sleep", I said.

"Be honest with him. Tell him how you feel. Tell him you're scared. Tell him what he needs to know to understand. He'll respond by being honest. It's what he's learned at home. It's all he knows.

"I like you, Ashley, and I'll do whatever I can to help you as long as there's no conflict of interest, but you know where my loyalties lie."

"Mine too." I started to gather up my books. "I better get back. I don't want to miss his roommate and have to wait just to get into the room."

Sunny came around the desk and gave me a demonstrative hug.

Hugs don't have any words and can be used in a variety of ways. Many guys like them because they get to feel your breasts. I read this one as saying, "I like you. I wish you well and I think you're good for my son."

I added, "Thank you," to the demonstrative message of my end of the hug.

"Good luck with Bill, shit," she said! "I've been so good about remembering to call him Jeff."

I laughed. I don't know why, but somehow it lightened my heart. Then I left and headed back to school.



-------

Chapter 18


"Who is it?"

"Ashley Fine."

"Jeff isn't here."

"Open up, I want to talk."

"Jeff isn't here. I have to study."

"Open the door."

"I can't."

"Now!" I said it with the authority of a police detective armed with a warrant. I heard the click of the lock and the turning of the knob before the door swung open.

"I don't know where he is."

He was a little taller than Jeff, though not quite as lean. He had the frightened look of a plebe, anticipating the random hazing of upperclassmen.

I brushed past him.

"That's okay. I brought my books. I'll wait."

"You can't. I don't know when he'll be back." Jeff had coached him.

I could break him but it wasn't really necessary.

"However long it takes, I'm staying. I hope you can sleep with the lights on."

He had been coached, but not prepared for this. His shoulders slumped in defeat, he went to his desk to study. I sat on the couch and opened a book.

He gave a sigh of resignation. What could I do, Jeff? She forced her way in and wouldn't leave. And that would be accurate, because I wasn't going anywhere until Jeff showed up.

I ordered in a pizza for dinner. I had occupied the high ground and I wasn't going to desert it due to lack of supplies. Sun Tzu says, well, I have no idea what Sun Tzu said, but I'm sure must have said not to desert the high ground.

At around 11:30 there was a key fumbling in the lock. Roger looked like he wanted to utter a warning, but I gave him a withering stare and he dropped his gaze back to his book.

"Ash ley." Two words. I had surprised him.

"We need to talk," I said. The words every man longs to hear from his woman.

"I've just been -"

"Cut the crap. We really need to talk. Roger, go stretch your legs."

There was no doubt about my authority. He got up quickly and mumbled, "I'm going to take a walk. I'll be back later."

He scurried out of the room like he was afraid of police brutality.

I closed the door behind him.

"How did you get him to let you in?"

"Except for you, there are two kinds of guys. One type stares at me and, even though they know I can see them, they just can't help themselves, they have to look.

"The second kind can't look for too long. It's like they are looking at something forbidden and dangerous and they can only look briefly before they have to turn away or something terrible will happen."

"Remedios The Beauty," he said with awe.

"You've read One Hundred Years of Solitude? I've got to give you points for that."

"You needn't sound so surprised. I read voraciously," he said.

"I thought you read science and history and non-fiction. That's heavy duty literature."

"Yes, and, okay, I'll confess I'm a little surprised to hear you've read it too. I guess you get some points yourself. Speaking of which, how many of those thousands of guys you've gone out with have even heard of it?"

"You. Roger was the second type. I told him to let me in. I told him I was staying and he couldn't even look at me, so how could he argue with me?"

Jeff nodded. After that exchange, he didn't seem to know how to get this started. No problem. I could take the lead.

"This is the first relationship I've been in with someone I really care about, Jeff. Who'd have believed it?

"I've dated a lot and I have a lot of experience going out with guys. I've even dated a couple of guys who would have been justified in believing they were my boyfriend except that if I'd lost them, well, there was never any real possibility I'd lose them, it wouldn't have mattered to me at all. It would have had all the emotional impact of oh, it's raining, let me get an umbrella.

"But I don't have any experience doing this. It scared the hell out of me, and that made me want to spend as much time with you as I could. I don't know why, but it seemed like that would help.

"I would have wanted to spend the time with you anyway because I love to be with you. I guess I'm doing all the talking and I don't even know what you think or if that's what's bothering you. I'll just shut up."

"You talked with my Mother, didn't you?"

"How did you know that?" I asked.

"That's her style: honest, sincere, direct. You did it very well." His voice softened. "You're a revelation."

"I can't tell whether you mean that good or bad."

"When I got here, I'd had two dates in my entire life, in my senior year. I decided to exude confidence and it worked. People thought I was confident so I was accepted as being of value to associate with. It's amazing what you can accomplish with confidence and what you can't without it. But I digress."

"You digress a lot. It's one of the things I like about you. It's often more interesting when you're on a tangent," I said.

"Don't encourage me; it's bad enough already. So, pretty much all my dating experience came in the just over two months before we met again. I've never gone with anyone so I don't have a very good idea of how to do it.

"You're pretty much on the money with what got me worried. If I'm exclusively with you, I won't get any more dating experience. I'm not looking for variety in women, I just wanted to learn how to do it."

Do it? What's "it?"

"Date?" I asked.

"Yes, date."

How do I answer that?

"And there's another thing. Mom always encourages straightforward, honest communication. But, there was something I was embarrassed to talk about. It's obvious you're a different person from when I knew you before. I think maybe most of the change is since we met again. It's obviously qualities you already had, but just wouldn't let come out."

I raised my eyebrows. "That's a compliment? I always suppressed my good qualities?"

He stammered.

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Jeff, which you deserve for taking off on me without giving me a clue what was wrong."

And I could give him a hard time because of the incredible relief I felt that it wasn't over.

"I was a coward. Anyway, I had the scary thought that what if the old Ashley shows up and dumps me. I know it's not fair because you're not her and you know you're, I really..."

He was waving his hands around as if words would materialize into them from the air and he could finish his thought...

"You trying to say you're sweet on me?" I asked.

"Where did you get that, My Antonia? But, yes, that's what I was trying to say."

"My God, your face is bright red; you're so embarrassed. That's okay. I'm sweet on you too."

"Gee, do you want to go down to the Rexall and get a soda pop?" he asked.

"You'll be surprised at how much of a reader I've been. I read My Antonia, too, so that cancels out your points for that. I'll bet I can match you anachronism for anachronism. Will we talk about going steady?"

"You really know how to talk sexy."

"How long do you think Roger will be gone?"

"Not nearly long enough," he said.

So, we talked about our feelings about what had happened and our relationship.

After all the intense time we spent together, culminating in the concert, the seductive dinner and the seductive seduction, he was scared it was too good to be true, so he bolted.

We agreed not to let that happen again. We promised to talk if either of us had a problem.

Great, I've known him a month and a half and we're in couple's therapy. Those promises are much easier to make than to keep.

Neither of us was anxious to put a name to what we felt for each other. "Sweet on you," was helpful in avoiding it.

Nobody wanted to sound stupid by calling it love if it was just infatuation, although "just" is pathetically inadequate when used to describe the intensity of infatuation.

Whichever it was, it was a journey not to be missed.



-------

Chapter 19


We compromised on the togetherness - he didn't stay over every night.

It turned out to be helpful because it gave me time to think about what I was going to do for Chanukah presents for Jeff's family.

My family was easy: spend some money on things they could have bought for themselves.

But after seeing how excited Jeff was at the tickets for the "Fifths" concert, I really wanted to get his family gifts based on what interested them, not how much money I could spend without feeling any discomfort.

I had much more fun than ever getting gifts. The only possible downside was how upset I would feel if they weren't thrilled with my choices.

I got in more and better quality studying than I ever had before. Jeff wouldn't hear of going out for some fun during finals despite the fact that he didn't seem to be working very hard himself. He actually read a few novels instead of devoting all of his time to his courses.

I thought it was rude, almost flaunting in my face how easy it was for him. But he was available whenever I needed any help so I let him off the hook.

During breaks I tried to pump him for information about his family.

"Are there any utensils Sam has always craved and not been able to get? Any cookbooks he's missing?"

"Doing a report?" he asked.

"Smartass. I'm just trying to get to know your family better. I think Sam's a dear. I'd love to get him something he'd really appreciate. Does he have any hobbies?"

"As a matter of fact he's an American History buff. His focus is the southwest, especially the migration and settlement of the west."

"Is that where your mom got it from?"

"Uh huh. But she didn't focus on the southwest."

"What about Harri, how did they meet?"

"They ought to tell you that. They met in college under pretty unusual circumstances."

His look told me it was quite a story.

"Oh, no. You can't do that to me. You don't tell me there is a wonderful story and refuse to tell it."

"I can't. I don't want to spoil it for them," he said.

"I'll show surprise, amusement, whatever the situation calls for. They'll never know you said a thing."

"No can do."

I pounced. I grabbed him from behind and moved my hands up to his armpits.

"You better hope you're not ticklish."

"No! Please, I can't say anything," Jeff implored.

I flexed my fingers just a bit and his body jolted like he was having a seizure.

"Stop, stop! I'll tell you. But you can't let them know I did. You play really unfair."

"They'll never know. And, yes, I do play unfair. I'm used to getting my way."

"Not by physical force."

I had the feeling he didn't like being whipped by a girl. If it had been just a question of strength, I wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Stop stalling. Get on with it, Mr. Ticklish," I said.

"Harri was an artistic soul from the time she was a little girl. She painted, did charcoal drawings, worked with clay, leaves, chocolate, anything that was available she tried.

"So she was an art major at college. Sam was kind of a hunk. Not a body-builder hunk, but trim, good looking."

"I can still see that. He's a major cutie."

"Sam didn't have enough academic interest in high school to get a scholarship and his family didn't have a lot of money so he had to work to get through.

"Well, it seems that one of the better paying jobs at the school, and one for which you really didn't have to have any skills..."

When the pause became unacceptably long, I intervened.

"Don't make me suffer. What did he do?"

"You deserve to suffer for tickling me," he said.

I stuck out my tongue.

"He signed up to model for a life drawing class."

I was a little slow on the uptake, but not that slow.

"So the first time she saw him, she really saw him?" I laughed.

"Oh, much worse than that. He saw her. He was interested; he thought she was really hot."

He waited to see if I could fill in the story, but I wasn't there yet.

"He's sitting there, the nude model for this class, he sees this incredibly hot girl, and he starts to get aroused."

Thank God I didn't have anything in my mouth; I would have sprayed it with the explosive laugh that burst out of me. I finally settled down a bit.

"Oh, my God, that must have been hilarious and so embarrassing."

Jeff looked upwards and shook his head a bit.

"Sam realized what was happening and, quick thinker that he was, he started coughing. He doubled over coughing to cover it up."

I couldn't control the laughter at that mental picture. I damn near peed myself.

"He rushed off, managing only to get out 'drink' before he ran. He grabbed some water, eased back on the coughing and tried to imagine William Howard Taft, all 300 pounds of him, naked. That solved his immediate problem.

"When he came back, he avoided looking at her or anyone else for that matter and made it through the class.

She was waiting outside. She was impressed with him, and don't say it, that was not what impressed her. It was his looks and his quick thinking. She asked him out and they've pretty much been together since then."

"Ooooh." It sounded almost like a moan.

"She picked up his historical interest in the southwest and they wound up in a commune in Arizona after they graduated. Sam learned to cook authentic, old-west meals and Harri got interested in jewelry. Then came Mom."

"That's so romantic. What are you going to tell our grandchildren? That you tutored me and I dumped you or that you didn't take any crap from me and I humped you?

"Don't give me that look, I'm not lobbying for anything, it's just hypothetical. After hearing Sam and Harri's story, how could I not think of it?"

"You have a very sassy sense of humor, my tormentor," he said.

"Oh, yeah? Take this."

I had him on his back as I moved up on top of him. I attacked his mouth with mine. His romantic tale had aroused me and I knew a very good way to take care of that.

He pulled his mouth away briefly.

"I suppose you mean to have your way with me, you cad-ette."

"I do."

"Then have at it."

I did.



-------

Chapter 20


I knew enough about Sandy to figure out what to get her and I knew Sunny pretty well, though I didn't have anything in mind yet. I didn't know Louis at all.

"Tell me about your Dad."

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, I've met everyone else and gotten to know them a bit, but other than seeing him when we left, I have no clue about your Dad."

"He's a really sweet guy, and very smart. He has all kinds of interests. He knows things about almost everything. Of course, he does wander off into space every once in a while."

"Does he know he's a nerd?"

It was his turn to laugh.

"Yeah. He'd have to be pretty obtuse not to notice. But he doesn't care. He's happy being him."

"Do you know you're a nerd?"

He smiled, put his arms around me and pulled me in.

"Yeah. And I'm happy being me."

He squeezed me as he said this. I don't know who had the bigger smile, Jeff or I.

"Tell me more." I snuggled against him. "Does he have a sense of humor?"

"He has a great sense of humor. Sometimes he can get a little cheesy, but he can see the humor in almost anything."

I knew what I was getting Louis.

"What about his parents?" I asked. "I haven't heard a word about either of them."

"Car accident." He didn't sound upset.

"Sorry."

"It was a while ago. The thing that makes me sad is that I don't remember much about them. Sandy has almost no memory of them at all."

"That's a shame."

I kissed his cheek. I kissed his neck. I kissed behind his ear. This had nothing to do with sex. I just wanted to be as close to him as I possibly could.

He ran his hand lightly through my hair. I didn't ever want this to end.

Finals were over and I loaded the car to head home. I had never felt so positive about how I had done. I had also never been so well prepared.

I turned on the radio before heading to Jeff's dorm. Counting Crows was reminding me of Sam and I couldn't help but smile.

"Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone? They paved paradise, put up a parking lot."

Was this an omen?

Was paradise the girl I had been, always in control, getting whatever I set my mind to? Or was it the girl I had always been inside according to Jeff, the girl I was meant to become, the girl who had captivated him?

Or was this just a song that happened to turn up on the radio when I got into the car?

Jeff piled his stuff in and we were off. So was the radio. I would rather talk with Jeff than listen to anything the radio could provide.

Before I got a chance to steer the conversation, Jeff had something he wanted to talk about.

"I don't know anything about your parents. You've barely said a word, except that you don't want me to meet them."

I took the statement for the question it was.

"I don't like to talk about them."

"So?"

This was just the beginning. I knew Jeff. He wasn't going to give up.

"You're a very difficult man," I said.

"I thought I was a young fellow of just eighteen."

"You're a very difficult boy."

I paused to see if we had changed the subject.

"Perhaps. You were going to tell me about your parents."

"I'm, like a character to them, not a person. I have a role to play. I have lines. I'm expected to follow the script."

"Who's your character?" he asked.

"The proper young lady. Knows all the right people, dates all the right people. Marries into the right family. Dazzlingly beautiful. No personal accomplishments required."

"That's sad. You were playing it perfectly until I interfered."

"No. I was doing it my own way. I was in control of every situation."

"With all the right people. Dazzlingly beautiful. No personal accomplishments except keeping the guys in line."

"No. Oh, God, yes. No." Could this be true? "I thought I was rebelling. I was going to create my own wealth and power."

"By marrying it?" Jeff asked.

"That sounds stupid."

"I'm sorry. If you're going to cry, pull over and let me drive."

I did. Had my whole life been a sham? Was I just fooling myself?

Jeff reached over and took my hand and just held it. He handled the steering wheel with his left. He didn't say anything. I didn't know whether it was because he had no idea what to say or because he thought it was best not to say anything right now. Whatever the reason, it was the right thing not to say.

We drove for a while in silence. Finally I said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"How did you know?" I asked.

"Instinct, I guess."

"You continue to surprise me. It amazes me that you can be so incredibly perceptive."

"Go ahead, finish. And so clueless at other times."

I don't know if it was any good, but it I tried my best Bette Davis impersonation.

"It's going to be a bumpy ride."

He laughed at the reference. So, he watches movies in addition to reading books.

Was I going to have to go to therapy over this? That would fit my role.

We might be well-bred and quite proper, but we Fines could certainly be complex enough to require years or even decades of therapy, at least the women.

So, my parents tried to mold me and never saw me as an individual. And I responded by never developing a strong identity except as a beauty. Was that it? Or had I heard so much psychobabble I was as full of shit as everyone else?

Maybe I should see a therapist.

No!

Why hadn't he been content to leave me in my comfort zone?

I hadn't been in my comfort zone since I met him. I think I was being rewarded by being happier than I had ever been. But he made me work awfully damn hard for it.



-------

Chapter 21


It's more difficult when you have almost unlimited money to spend on gifts. It can rob you of your imagination and distract your focus from what the recipient will really appreciate to how much you can acquire.

I made a conscious effort not to think of gifts in terms of money. For my family I would tap the bank account. But for Jeff's family I would tap my imagination.

At my house, we lit the Chanukah candles, whipped through the prayers and tore into the gifts. No sentimentality was wasted on this holiday.

My gift was in a very small package. It was a sizeable gift certificate to Bloomingdale's. However thrilled I might have been, and I wasn't, it wouldn't do to show too much enthusiasm.

"Thank you. How thoughtful."

There was no possibility whatsoever that they would suspect irony. I lacked the depth.

I left as quickly as I could and headed over to Jeff's.

I was bubbling over. I had never been so excited to give gifts.

I don't even think it would be spoiled for me if they weren't perfect because I had put so much thought into them that I would be the beneficiary of my giving.

I got hugs from everyone, even Louis. Sandy attacked me again.

Jeff gave me a yummy kiss and he wasn't even embarrassed to be doing it in front of his family, at least until they started making noises. Then he blushed.

They had waited for my arrival to light the candles.

Sam stood with his arm over Harri's shoulder. Her arm was around his waist.

Sandy leaned against Jeff, her arm around his waist. The body language was, "This is my big brother and he is the greatest." It made me want to hug them.

We sang the same prayers, but this felt more in the moment, part of the celebration of the holiday, not some activity to be gotten out of the way so we could move on to better things.

"I want to go first."

I was like a kid on Christmas morning, making a beeline for the tree, except there was no tree.

"Louis, I know you the least well of this family, but I hope you'll get a kick out of this."

I handed him a small package.

He tore off the paper.

"A DVD. My favorite movie?"

"I don't think so," I said.

"Revenge of The Nerds." He laughed. Yes! "I don't think I've ever seen it, although my kids tell me it is an important part of my education. Thank you, Ashley."

He kissed me on the cheek, reserved even in his excitement.

"Sunny and Sandy, you two are joining me for a day at the spa."

Sandy squealed. Sunny had a big smile. I don't know whether it was because she was delighted with the gift or delighted that Sandy was so delighted with the gift, but she was obviously happy.

"Harri and Sam," I handed them a brochure.

"Oh, my God," said Harri. "She's given us a Wagon Train vacation at the Harbaugh Ranch in Montana. How did you even think of this? Oh, My God. I didn't even know there was such a thing."

Sam was pawing at the brochure. "That is going to be so much fun," he said.

"It's a three-day minimum, but you can go longer if you want," I said.

"I hope the cooking is authentic. I could learn so much," said Sam. "Look, the train goes to neighboring ranches and we help them brand their calves. We can sleep in tents if we want." He said it with wonder.

"Not a chance," said Harri with no wonder at all.

Jeff just stood there with his mouth open.

"I finally found a way to shut you up," I told him. He just shook his head slowly forgetting to shut his mouth. "Jeff, I'm afraid I didn't spend anything on you." I reached into my purse, withdrew a card and handed it to him.

"You registered to vote. She registered to vote." Tears were dripping down his cheeks. "You're incredible."

He wrapped his arms around me and it didn't feel like he ever intended to let go, which was fine with me, but he eventually recognized this was not a position we could maintain forever.

I had been excited about this, but I was also relieved. This gift had been a big risk. I had put my heart into it, but there was always the possibility I could be viewed as cheap and my gift interpreted, therefore, as thoughtless. I had gambled big and I had won big.

Sunny came over, ran her hand over my hair and gave me a long kiss on the cheek. "You're very special."

"Yes, she is," said Harri, who came in for a kiss of her own.

"You're a real sweetheart," said Sam.

Louis just beamed. Sandy had a big smile and she was fidgeting, barely able to contain her enthusiasm.

I was floating.

Sunny stepped back, put her arm around Louis and leaned against him. Sam and Harri leaned into a passionate kiss. I guess it wasn't that out of the ordinary here.

"Get a room, you two," said Sandy. They broke apart.

"You, wow, I still can't believe it," said Jeff.

"You were very difficult to get a gift for, Ashley.

"You don't seem to have any hobbies or passions. You can afford anything you want. You can go places. You can buy things.

"We spent a lot of time talking about it and, especially after what's happened here, I think we made a good decision.

"One of the special things we've noticed about you is you seem to like to do nice things for people." He glanced at Sandy.

"You got us the tickets to the Fifths, even though you thought you wouldn't like it. You took me to that dinner where, uh, that wonderful dinner."

Don't be bashful, Jeff. Tell the whole family about my night of foreplay and seduction.

"And these gifts tonight prove you have an immense capacity for caring and giving. So we got you the gift of giving."

Come on, be a little more cryptic, you're making it too easy. What the hell was he talking about?

"Sam and Harri and Mom and Dad each got you a nanny goat from Heifer International."

"What?"

"They got nanny goats in your name to be donated to two desperately poor families in a village where most families don't have enough to eat, let alone go to school or build a life.

"I have information from Heifer International you can look at to understand the incredible effects this will have for the two families and the whole village.

"I got you a billy goat for the same village, so he can knock up the nannies at the right time."

"Jeff." Sunny glanced at Sandy.

"How much of a child do you think I am?" Sandy wasn't taking any crap.

"Sorry, mom," he said. "I was just having a little fun.

"The nanny goats have been bred to produce a lot of milk the families can drink and sell.

"When they get together with my billy goat, the families will give the offspring to other families in the village.

"I know it's not a lot, but we thought you would appreciate making a start at helping some people get out of extreme poverty."

"I got you bees," said Sandy. She was beaming. "Heifer will see that the recipient gets trained and he can earn a living from the honey and from bringing in his bees to fertilize the crops."

Now I had tears dripping down my face. It wasn't because I appreciated their gifts to me of helping other people, though I certainly did appreciate them.

It was that they thought so highly of me; they were absolutely convinced I would receive the most satisfaction from helping somebody else.

They had complete faith in me. I had nowhere near that kind of faith in myself. It was a priceless gift.

They had put themselves on the line, just as I had. They were willing to risk being thought badly of, to get me gifts they thought I would most appreciate.

"Gee, I hope those tears aren't because you think our gifts sucked," said Jeff.

I smacked him in the chest and buried myself in his arms. I was incapable of speaking without blubbering.

When the kids are younger, families often give smaller gifts and stretch them out over the entire eight days to maintain the anticipation and the interest. When you're giving goats and bees and covered wagons, it's okay to do it all at once.

I maneuvered away from the others and spoke to him in a very low voice, almost a whisper. "Did you really like my gift? I was a little afraid not to spend any money on you."

"You spent some Ashley on me. That's far more valuable."

Maybe he had a little social savant in him after all. Probably it was how he felt, which was even better.

The family sat down for dinner. I included myself in that concept. Perhaps it was presumptuous, but that's how I felt.

Okay, I was family and a guest. When we finished, Louis, Sandy and Jeff were assigned to clear, clean and do the dishes since they had no part in preparation. As a guest, I was spared.

Harri and Sam went off to look up the covered wagon trip online. Sunny and I wandered into the living room.

"We expect a lot from you and still you continue to surprise," she said. There was much more affection in her voice than I had ever heard from a family member.

I think I blushed. I had received so many compliments about superficial things, but this said I was a valuable person and that was not from any obvious visual inspection. It was new, and I liked it, but I was not yet comfortable with it.

"Well, it, I just, I don't know, I wanted to get things that fit." Aw, shucks, ma'am. I am so articulate.

"You are a paradox. When someone tells you you're beautiful, what do you say?"

"Thank you."

"This was just another compliment. You didn't need to explain; I understood why you did it. That was what impressed me.

"I'm sorry. It's the teacher in me. I'm always approaching situations like they are lessons. I just wanted to say you already know how to handle a compliment."

"Thank you." That wasn't hard at all.

"Louis really liked your gift. He appreciated the combination of the sense of humor and that you feel comfortable enough to do it because of your relationship with Jeff.

"I figured I better tell you because it can take years to get to know Louis. He has so much depth, but often it's silent. It took my friends years to understand what I saw in him.

"You affected him. I saw it in his eyes."

Harri wandered in to join us.

"He gets so carried away when he's online. He wants to know about every blade of grass." She waved it off. "I caught the tail end of that. Sunshine, you have a good man with a kind heart and a generous spirit."

Sunny sighed. "Thanks, Mom. I knew you understood."

"It's funny how much you say without words. The way you called her 'Sunshine' expressed volumes about your relationship and the depth of your feelings for each other," I said. "It was beautiful."

Harri pinched my cheek. "This one's a keeper."

It wasn't long before Jeff and Sandy drifted in from the kitchen. They said Louis was finishing up and they were in the way.

Harri left to find Sam and Sunny and Sandy left to, well, probably to leave us alone.

Jeff and I could have gone to my house and enjoyed a wonderful evening full of naked enjoyment. But I preferred to remain here on the couch in his parents' living room, snuggled tightly against him, my arms around him, my cheek against his chest, feeling it move up and down as he breathed, feeling his heartbeat, his warmth, inhaling his aroma. I felt safe, content, where I was meant to be.

We talked and cuddled for a long time, mostly cuddled.

It was too long. I had time to start to think. I started to worry.

This was too good. People can't stay this happy, can they? What would happen to screw this up?

It's funny. A short time back I thought I was happy. I thought I had it all and never worried that something could happen to mess it up.

Looking back, I realized I wasn't happy, just content, or more likely, complacent.

But at the time I thought I had it all. And when I thought I had it all, I didn't worry that anything would happen to jeopardize it.

Now I was truly happy, or was I? Would I look back on this, too, and realize I was just misinterpreting the situation again?

Now that I might be truly happy, as I thought I was before, why should there be any greater chance of losing it?

Why, oh, be still. Breathe in his scent. Just enjoy being where you want most in the world to be, with the person you most want to be with. So I did.



-------

Chapter 22


We strolled into Indulgences like a mom and her two daughters, Sunny with her arm around my waist and over Sandy's shoulder.

We were escorted to our own private group room.

We undressed and changed into spa robes. I didn't know how Sandy felt about her body, but she recognized it as part of the culture and did a credible job of looking casual.

"You know, when we come in here with a bridesmaid's party, we talk about our guy, and guys in general," I said.

Sandy giggled.

"We're not doing that today. I'm not getting married and we're not a typical group."

Sandy moaned.

"We're going to talk about our guys and how we met them."

"I don't have a guy," said Sandy.

"You can talk about who you want to meet," I said. "Sunny, tell us how you met Louis. Was it very romantic?"

Sunny laughed. "Oh, it was about as romantic as you can possibly imagine."

The tone of her voice was not quite ironic, but there was little doubt her story would not sound like anything I had ever read in a romance novel.

She paused for dramatic effect and said in a breathy voice, "We met at a Mensa meeting."

I howled, and when I finished, I said, "No way."

"Way," said Sunny.

Sandy was looking at her mother with her mouth wide open in surprise. She had obviously never heard this story.

The door opened and Angelica, like that was really her name, greeted us.

"I'm glad you're having such a good time, ladies. Could you possibly keep it down just a little bit? Some of our other guests asked if we would speak with you."

I snorted, but managed to suppress a full out laugh. Sandy began to giggle and Sunny started to titter.

Angelica cleared her throat. Perhaps she had allergies.

We were all laughing but managed to keep it soft.

Angelica raised her eyebrows, tilted her head and left the room.

That occasioned more giggling which we quickly got under control.

When we settled, I urged Sunny, "Go on. You have to give us more than that."

"Patience," she said. "Though the movement was long over, I was a hippie, straight from the commune."

"In Mensa?" I asked with incredulity.

"I was a guest," said Sunny. "A friend asked me to come along with her to what passed for a party. I reluctantly agreed.

"After all, if you can't supply an IQ test, you have to take one, and hippies aren't exactly fond of being part of the orthodoxy.

I'd never had an IQ test because Harri and Sam thought they were subversive."

That brought another round of laughter.

"Anyway," Sunny continued, but that was all she got to say.

Angelica came through the door and said, "We're ready for you, Miss Fine."

"No, I've got to hear the rest of the story," I argued.

Angelica stood immobile, a patronizing smile pasted on her face.

Suitably chastened, I groaned and followed her out the door.

Monique, she could have been a Monique, gave me two small towels to cover up and averted her eyes as I got on the table and arranged them.

She started me with a salt glow with Indulgences' proprietary blend of oils which included orange, lemon and lime as well as a secret ingredient. I wouldn't be surprised if it came from the flower of the Pretention plant.

I rolled over so she could do the other side. She had soft, gentle hands.

When she finished, she turned on the Vichy shower and adjusted the temperature before rinsing me off on the table. If she had used lavender I probably would have been asleep by then.

I tossed the wet towels, optional, so she could proceed with my shea butter wrap. This seemed like a more relaxing choice than something designed to help eliminate cellulite, which I don't think any of us had.

Monique wrapped me in a thermal blanket festooned with Indulgences' logo.

As I lay there she massaged my scalp. She wasn't as good as Jeff, but it was delicious nonetheless.

It ended with another Vichy shower and I dried off, put on my spa robe and slippers and Angelica magically appeared to escort me back to our room.

Sunny followed a few minutes later.

"I hope Sandy will be back soon," I said. "I've got to hear the rest of your story."

"I didn't think it was that interesting," said Sunny in a tone that let me know it was, even if it could not top Harri and Sam's first meeting.

Since I had chosen for our treatments to be in the same order it was no surprise when Angelica appeared with Sandy a few minutes later.

"Okay, let's hear the rest of the story," I said.

"Yeah, Mom, you've been holding out," said Sandy.

Sunny held up her hands.

"I wouldn't be much of a story teller if I gave you the whole thing at once. You've obviously enjoyed the introduction, but I think I should drag it out a little, savor it."

This elicited groans from both of us.

"Why don't you start to tell us how you met Jeff, Ashley?" she asked.

"Yes. I want to hear that," said Sandy.

I hadn't thought this far in advance. While it seemed like a good idea to find out Sunny's story, I didn't realize I would have to come up with a G-rated story for this company.

Well, Jeff's mom and little sister, I agreed to go out with him because I heard he was a great fuck.

"No, no. I think it's better to finish one story at a time."

"Why don't we vote?" asked Sunny. "I vote for Ashley's story."

"Me, too," said Sandy. I want to hear about Jeff."

I stalled for time.

"Well, you know I met Jeff when I was back in high school, but his name was Bill then."

"We know that," said Sandy. "We want to know what happened this time."

"No, high school is important to know if you want to understand what happened this time."

They seemed content to give me a chance to demonstrate that.

"As you know, Jeff helped me with school work. He tutored me. He even helped me anticipate what questions would be asked on the tests and what answers that teacher would prefer."

I spoke slowly. Perhaps Angelica would return and rescue me so I'd have more time to throw together an appropriate spin.

"He was really helpful. But one day he decided to ask me out. Really, guys, he was too young. Would you have let him take me out if I had said yes, Sunny?"

"I don't know," she said. "It didn't come up."

"Well," I continued, "I turned him down and I have to admit, I was pretty much a bitch the way I did it. I wasn't trying to hurt him. He wasn't even in the equation; it was all about me.

"So all these years later, I'm a college junior.

"I see a friend one day and she looks really happy. So I ask her what's going on, what's making her happy. And she tells me she's been seeing a guy. It's not really serious, but he treats her great, she has a wonderful time with him and he's about the best thing in her life.

"Obviously I get curious and she says I should meet him.

"Going along with your principle of telling the story in parts for dramatic impact, Sunny, shouldn't you get back to your story? I don't want to tell this all in one big gulp."

"Yeah, Mom," said Sandy. This is getting really exciting. Please."

"Alright," said Sunny.

"I'm walking around at the party and, frankly, the guys weren't that much to look at. I'm listening to conversations, trying to find something interesting so I can join in.

"Louis is one of the guys and he's in a conversation with two other guys about the realism, or lack of it, in the construction design of the bridge in the movie Bridge Over The River Kwai.

"They're actually talking about the engineering and whether it fit with accepted principles of engineering at the time and how much load it looked like it could take. Could the train they showed later cross the bridge without destroying it?

"And they were so enthusiastic it was like listening to three cheerleaders talking about the hottest guys on the football team.

"I chuckled because I was thinking of them as the three wise men. They were so smart to be talking about this. And I was also thinking of them as the three nerds because it was so goofy to be talking about this."

I started laughing thinking about Sunny calling them the three wise nerd men, or however she put it together. Sandy joined in.

"I looked around the party for a while, trying to see if I could find somebody interesting, but a little less goofy. And," Sunny paused, "it's time for a commercial break. We now hear from our sponsor. Take it away Ashley."

Sandy thought this was the biggest hoot. I could see how it could be from her point of view.

"Alright, where..."

The door opened and a bleach blonde sauntered in full of attitude; she was all that.

She was very attractive and had an outstanding body. Then she looked at me.

I was wearing a terry cloth robe, with almost no makeup, and her look changed. She was second best in the room, not the whole spa, or the Delaware Valley, or Pennsylvania, the room. She quickly recovered.

"Hi, I'm Chloe. I'm here for Ashley."

She took me to a room and left me on my own to enter.

"Hi, I'm Tawny."

And she was indeed.

I eased back in the chair and she started to massage my face with a solution designed to do a gentle peel.

"You have great skin," she said.

"Thank you."

"Actually, you have pretty great everything."

"Thank you." I was practicing my skills.

She let it sit for around five minutes then removed it with a soft cloth.

Tawny wrapped my face with a warm towel. My cares melted away. I know that because I couldn't remember what they were.

After wiping my face again, Tawny applied a proprietary Indulgences' moisturizing mask. This, too, was covered with a moist, warm towel.

If there were a way to do this to all of mankind simultaneously it would put an end to warfare.

When she removed the towel and cleaned my face I was so relaxed I would have preferred a gurney to take me back, rather than have to get up and walk on my own.

Despite having left first, I was the last one back. The skin on both their faces glowed.

It was approaching 1:00 and I was pretty hungry.

Fortunately, our experience included ameliorating our hunger.

Chloe gave us our choices for lunch and left to get them for us.

"This is wonderful," sighed Sunny, "but I don't think I could take too much of it. The downtime is nice but I need to be doing things even if it's only visiting with my family."

"Well, Mom, you've got the best of both worlds. You have the relaxation and you're with family."

"And it's lovely," said Sunny. "Now I think Ashley owes us some more of her story."

I'd had an hour to come up with my best spin. I could tell a compelling, though unflattering, story without any mention of ice cubes and nerve pathways.

"I may have neglected to mention that my friend told me Jeff was an incredible kisser."

"Eeew," said Sandy. "I don't know if that's revolting or intriguing."

I rolled my eyes.

"It gets better, or worse."

Fortunately, I was temporarily saved by Chloe's entrance with the food.

It was only temporary and as we finished up our lunch they both pressed me for more.

"He walked me home and I was getting uncomfortable. Every guy I ever dated was kind of hunky or even better.

"Most of them were older. All of them were smoother. And Jeff was two years younger and a freshman for God's sake.

"He hadn't said anything about it, but I was thinking where does he get off thinking he's such a great kisser.

"I know it was my own doubts and insecurities in a situation I wasn't used to, but I started to get angry at Jeff. I told him to show me this great kissing I'd heard so much about.

"I know. Once again I was a real bitch.

"And do you know what he said? He said I had seemed nice but my behavior was terrible. He said with my attitude no kiss would have been any good. And then he just walked away.

"And that, ladies, was how I met Jeff."

"But you still know Jeff," said Sandy, "so there must be more to the story, though it's really hard to see why he ever went out with you again, no offense."

I laughed. "None taken.

"It must be hard to imagine why he would agree to see someone who treated him that badly. I'll admit I kind of groveled. I gave him what I thought was my reason.

"But you guys know why he did it. He's Jeff.

"He said in your family, you admit the mistake, you have remorse, that's enough. He is so special."

"Well, we know that," said Sunny. "There's obviously more, but you've upheld your end of the bargain, so I'll tell you more of my story.

"There was nothing much going on as far as guys I'd be interested in dating at the party, although there were interesting guys, like the nerd trio.

"At some point I hear a piano playing some show tune and there were people singing along. So I followed the sound to the piano, and there on the piano seat, playing his heart out, was Louis.

"And I could tell from his demeanor and his body language he wasn't doing it to be the life of the party. He wasn't trying to make himself appealing to the girls. He was just having fun; being himself. At that point I knew I wanted to get to know him."

"Wow," said Sandy, in awe.

"I'm not done," said Sunny. "The singing and playing eventually came to an end. People thanked him for playing and he blushed.

"People started to wander away from the piano and I started to move towards him.

"And then for nobody but himself he started to play again.

"He started to play a traditional, but not show style, version of Someone To Watch Over Me. Slow. Soulful. With so much emotion I couldn't believe the other girls weren't rushing him.

"But after the first time through it got even more amazing. He started to do a jazz version. Still slow, but he was taking it places. I didn't know if he had worked on it or if he was improvising, but from the way he played and the way it sounded, it was clearly his.

"I sat down on the bench next to him and he was startled, but kept playing.

"You know I dressed kind of hippy, so he changed what he was expressing with the music to acknowledge me.

"That's when I knew that if he wasn't a secret serial killer or something equally vile, this was the guy I wanted to spend my life with."

"Oh. My. God," said Sandy.

Her head didn't move, but her shoulders sank away from her head as her eyes slowly closed.

We just sat there silently, enjoying the after effects of the story.

I felt like I had just closed the last page of a good romance novel.

This was way more romantic than let's see what makes you such a great kisser and get your hands off my tits. Not as adventuresome, but definitely romantic.

Our reverie was broken by Chloe, there to start the next round of our spa adventure.

I was treated to a Swedish massage, firm, but certainly not a deep-tissue massage.

Candace had strong hands. She was very professional until I told her how good it felt when she was working on the back of my thighs.

"I can do things to make you feel good that no guy has ever thought of."

"Not unless you read as extensively as my guy."

"Read?"

"It's the only way to go."

I moaned when she did my feet. It was good, but she was no Jeff.

We all got back at around the same time. As we sat back and relaxed, Sunny started again.

"I know you liked the story, but the night isn't over. When he finished, I put my hand on his arm and told him it was wonderful and how much I loved it.

"I tried to get a conversation going, but he was having a tough time. He could answer my questions, but he had trouble taking the conversation anywhere himself. He was interesting. It was just hard getting it out of him.

"I stuck with him for the rest of the party and he seemed pretty willing. I don't think he'd been on that many dates and I'm sure nobody had ever pursued him the way I did. He seemed to enjoy it.

"Then came the end of the party and I told him how much I had enjoyed talking and being with him and he really liked that. His face just beamed. He told me he had enjoyed it too.

"He stood around for a while and then said he guessed it was time to go.

"He didn't know what he was supposed to do, so I rescued him.

"I asked him where he lived and told him where I lived and before he could try to walk off again I asked if he would like to walk me home and he said he would.

"I held his hand and took my time walking back.

"When we got to my dorm, he verbally fumbled around. He couldn't figure out what to say so finally he held out his hand to shake.

"I took it but I didn't let go. I brought my hand back to my body along with his.

"He stepped closer to maintain his balance. He had that scared look on his face that said, 'What do I do now?'

"I leaned in and kissed him on the lips. It wasn't the hot kind Ashley didn't have with Jeff."

She smiled at me with a playfully wicked gleam in her eyes.

"It was sweet and I lingered because I wanted him to know this was not just some polite goodnight kiss.

"I told him I had a wonderful time in my dreamy voice. I used his name.

"He told me he had a great time too. Then he didn't know what to do again so he told me he'd better get going.

"I said, 'You don't want to leave without my number, do you?'

"He was flustered and said he forgot to ask. I told him I was going to get something out of my purse to write it down.

"He said I didn't have to, he remembered numbers very well, especially when they had a relationship to what he referred to as a key. He said 'sunny' was his key.

"I said, 'Perhaps it will help even more if you use "Sunshine" as the key.'

"He smiled and said it was a wonderful name and there was no chance he would ever forget me or the number."

Sandy sighed.

I sighed.

"I told him my number and he nervously leaned in and kissed me on the lips. He didn't hold it very long and he blushed when he did it. But he did it.

"He said, 'Bye. I'll call you tomorrow, ' and he left with a bounce in his step that was close to skipping.

"And that's how I met Louis."

We just sat there and absorbed the story.

Sandy sighed again. I did too.

We heard another sound.

Chloe was standing there looking dreamily at Sunny, sighing.

She had been standing there long enough to hear a good bit of the story and she had been enthralled as well.

She noticed us all looking at her.

"I knocked, honestly, but nobody answered. And when I heard the story I kind of forgot where I was. Really."

I smiled at her. I saw Sunny and Sandy smiling too.

Chloe finally got herself together and started giving us instructions on where to go.

"By the way," said Sunny, "I know it's not part of the story of how we met, but trust a nerd; if he tells you he's calling tomorrow, he's calling tomorrow unless he's in a coma.

"He finally started chasing me until I let him catch me."

Again Chloe was captivated and had to snap herself out of it. She told us we had around ten minutes until we would go for our pedicures and manicures.

"Unless there's any more to the story," she said with a smile. "I could tell them we're running a little late."

We laughed and Sunny told her that was as much of the story any of us were going to get.

"Do you have anything else to tell us, Ashley?" Sunny asked.

"I suppose I shouldn't leave you completely hanging.

"Jeff graciously agreed to go out with me again. He took me to see the wrestling team."

I paused for effect. If you haven't been there, you probably have no idea why anyone would go.

"There they were, these hunky, muscled guys who were wearing hardly anything, all sweaty and grunting."

I drew it out and made them sound delicious.

"Okay, not the point of the story.

"Anyway, we got back to my place and I was kind of in the mood so I thought why not show him what I think hot kissing is.

"So I tried. But he kind of took over and it was amazing; it was so hot!

"He was really getting me worked up and I grabbed his belt and pulled him inside and took him to my..." Sunny cleared her throat. "sofa. We were both getting so into it."

I paused for dramatic effect.

"Oh, my," said Sandy with awe.

Sunny was giving me looks and gesturing with her head towards Sandy.

"And then, I don't want to go into details, but something got me upset and I yelled for him to stop and I think I started smacking at him and he stammered something as he got up and left as quickly as somebody running from the police.

"This time I wasn't a complete bitch. I was just startled."

"Did you ever see him again?" Sandy quickly asked, her voice completely sincere.

"Sandy, she's talking about Jeff," said Sunny.

"Oh my God," said Sandy. "I got so caught up in the story I completely forgot it was Jeff."

We all started laughing again, except for Chloe, who stood by the door with her mouth open.

"Are you guys some kind of improvisational group?" she asked. "These stories aren't real are they?"

"That wasn't even the last time I chased him off," I said. "I scared him off one more time before we had a chance to really get together," I looked directly at Sunny, "and talk."

Sandy raised her right hand and said, "That's my big brother, Jeff," with a big smile on her face.

Sunny raised her right hand and said, "That's my son, Jeff."

"My boyfriend," I said.

Chloe laughed, shook her head and took us to a room where we could all be pampered at the same time.



-------

Chapter 23


I pulled up to the house to let them out. It had been quite a day.

"Ashley, come in and join us for dinner."

I was prepared to decline though Sunny told me it was the least she could do.

It was, after all, a gift and I was happy to do it.

But then she said, "You're part of the family and we like to have you with us."

How do you say no to that?

"Okay."

"Goodie," said Sandy. "You can visit in my room while Mom makes dinner."

"That's a lovely idea," said Sunny.

Jeff's room had not been at all like I had expected. It was not that of a typical teenage boy.

Sandy's room could have come out of a teen magazine.

She plopped on the bed, propped her head on her hands and bent her knees so that her feet were in the air. She looked like Sandra Dee in a Gidget movie. It was Sandra Dee, right? The little blonde?

"Do you love Jeff?"

She would never have gotten away with that if Sunny were here. But I had no protection.

"I don't, I don't really know."

"Why not?"

"I've never been in love before. I'm not sure what it feels like."

"He's not cute enough?"

"Oh, no. That has nothing to do with it."

"I don't think he's really cute."

"Trust me, he is. There's just something about him."

"I want somebody really gorgeous, you know? Like you're really gorgeous, amazing."

The speed at which she said it made it sound like, "Iwantsomebodyreallygorgeousyouknow? Likeyou'rereallygorgeousamazing."

She didn't lack for enthusiasm.

It took my brain a few seconds to decode it.

"Thanks, Sandy. You're very pretty yourself."

"No. I know I'm nothing special."

"Did you look at yourself in the mirror when they finished working on you? Come look at yourself in the mirror now. You really look very pretty."

I almost felt like Glinda handing the mirror to Elphaba during Popular.

She blushed and rolled her head.

"Okay. I'm just not used to it. Do you think I can get a really gorgeous guy?"

I laughed. "There are going to be a lot of guys interested in you."

"Yeah, nerds."

"Why Sandy, I do believe you're shallow. There are way more important things than how a guy looks."

Oh, my God. Was it me saying that?

"I know. Jeff isn't that cute, but he's the nicest guy I know. He's so nice to me and I'm his annoying little sister.

"My friends have brothers around his age and they torture them. Even the nicest ones give their sisters a hard time. But Jeff is so sweet and helpful. And he never says anything mean. I don't think anybody ever had a better brother."

"Even if he isn't cute?"

"Even if he isn't cute. Beast was wonderful to Belle."

"That's a fairy tale."

"But it's an allegory. And I understand the concept."

Whoa, allegory? "You're fifteen?"

"Yep. Beast is the thin guy, the shy guy, the Goth, the nerd, the beat-up used car; all the things that lead us to make judgments based on impressions without learning the reality of the situation."

"Allegory? Some guys are going to love that mind of yours."

Most impressive was the list she threw together and her analysis of the lesson.

"Yeah, the nerds."

"Beast."

"Okay, so maybe it's not so bad. Like you said, I'm fifteen.

"So what don't you like about Jeff? Why don't you love him?"

"I didn't say that. I just don't know yet. I, don't think there's anything I don't like about Jeff. The only thing that annoys me a little is how fast he grasps things. Give me a chance to catch up, why don't you?"

"Yeah, that gets to me too sometimes.

"So what is it you like about Jeff?" she asked dreamily,.

Did I hear Sunny calling for help? Please.

Well, he's amazing in bed. Probably not something I should mention to her.

"Well, you're right. He's as nice as they come. But so is your Mom."

"Yeah, she's great."

"He's patient and it's hard to get him angry. But what I like best is the way he makes me feel about myself. He treats me like I'm a so much better person than I think I am.

"Sometimes I think I don't deserve it, but he doesn't agree."

"I think you do love him. I heard something special in your voice when you said that about him."

I laughed. "You could be right. It would sound special because he is special."

"Oooh. Now you're getting mushy. So what do I do to get a guy?"

"You're fifteen."

"We covered that. You know how to get any guy you want. How do you do it?

"How did you get Jeff after that disastrous start?"

I thought the parents are supposed to interrogate you, not the little sister.

That's how the afternoon went.

It was difficult, but at least we were talking about Jeff, a topic I enjoyed.

Finally, Sunny rescued me. She called us down to set the table.

Shortly after that Jeff and his dad returned. They had been spending quality time together.

What, I wondered, do a nerd father and son do together. It didn't take long to find out.

"How did you do?" Sunny asked.

"Great," said Jeff. "Dad averaged 216 and I averaged 204. I did beat him one game with a 256, but I had trouble with the spares in the other games."

He turned to me.

"Dad is a really good bowler. And would you believe, he learned to bowl from a book he got out of the library?"

I snorted. Of course I would believe it.

How else would a nerd learn a sport other than from a book? But hey, they were my nerds.

I smiled. My guy's a jock. Bowling does take some athletic skill, doesn't it, even though a lot of the guys you see down at the lanes are shaped like the ball?

"Could you guys hold dinner for me? I'm planning on running a marathon so I need to get a book on it at the library."

Jeff gave me a nasty look, but I could tell he was proud.

"Ashley and I had a fabulous day at the spa and then we talked in my room."

Sandy was effervescent.

I wasn't sure that what I had with Jeff was romantic love, whatever that is, but there was no doubt I loved Sandy and Sunny as well.

After dinner Sunny led me to the living room while the other three handled cleanup.

"You know, at some point you're not going to be a guest and you'll have to pitch in."

"I'm looking forward to that."

"I think you are."

She paused to collect her thoughts.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done with Sandy. She's gained so much confidence. She's really starting to blossom."

"What is it with this family and flowers?"

Sunny laughed.

"Seriously, it's been my pleasure. I love spending time with Sandy, except when she's grilling me about Jeff and me."

"Oh, I'm going to have to talk to her about that" said Sunny.

"No, don't. It's over and I get a kick out of her intensity."

"You know, we give everybody the benefit of the doubt. We assume the best. In your case, you've exceeded all expectations. If you were my daughter, I'd be proud."

I blushed. Talk about exceeding expectations.

She gripped my hand and squeezed. We sat there and smiled. Finally, I leaned in and hugged her. This was a moment to remember.

Jeff came in while she was asking me about school.

"I'm pretty sure I had my best semester ever. I learned more than ever before."

"That's wonderful. Well, if you two will excuse me, I have a lot of things that need attending to," she said.

I'm sure it had nothing to do with wanting to leave us alone.

I snuggled up against him on the couch. We could have gone to my house to be alone for more intensely intimate interpersonal communication, Yeah, it's a euphemism.

But it felt too good to be wrapped in his big, strong, well, his arms, to leave.

We didn't have to do anything. We didn't have to say anything. This was the perfect end to a perfect day.



-------

Chapter 24

I saw a lot of the Goldbergs during winter break.

Sandy was back in school, but Jeff and I didn't have to be back until the 16th. It seemed like I was at their house all the time.

We also spent some quality time in my bedroom.

You might have thought my parents would notice my comings and goings. But they were as oblivious as if I had been a transient in their hotel.

I carefully avoided having them meet Jeff and they seemed to avoid it too, although I suspect it took very little effort on their part.

I didn't know exactly what the criteria were, but whatever they were, I was pretty sure Jeff would not meet the lofty requirements to be adjudged a "fine young man." I think it was code for it would be okay for their family and our family to associate together.

I enjoyed the vacation. I welcomed the opportunity to renew old relationships, acquaintances, whatever they were.

I loved my time with Jeff's family. Louis had a quirky sense of humor and I enjoyed it almost as much as he did.

I had a couple opportunities to share in phone calls from Sam and Harri.

Life was sweet. And then it was time to return to school.

Jeff seemed more relaxed about spending so much time with me. Of course, he had a logical explanation.

"I could probably benefit from dating a variety of people. That part of my education is deficient.

"But I realized I have no experience in a serious relationship either and I'm going to have to do it eventually, so this seems as good a time as any."

"You silver-tongued devil. You sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet."

"Well it is logical, isn't it?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

I knew what he meant and I knew how he felt, fortunately for him, or I would have tossed him out on his ear long ago.

Don't get me wrong. He didn't come up with the grand gestures women wax poetic about. I didn't get a pearl necklace. I got a goat.

He came up with the meat and potatoes of romance. He noticed and appreciated everything I did for him. He supported everything I wanted to do and went out of his way to try to make my life easier.

If this was how Louis acted with Sunny, she was the lucky one, not him, and I considered him very lucky.

It would have been nice if Jeff had at least a little flirtation in him, but he was so painfully earnest about honesty and understanding in relationships he forgot what an amazing sense of humor he has.

I asked him about it.

"I barely talked to girls about anything except academic and political topics until just a few months ago.

"Even when I started meeting girls at school, I had no idea about using any lines. I was just sincere. It seemed to be enough."

"I gotta get you some movies to educate you," I said.

"You want me to flirt? I have you."

"You could flirt with me. It's fun. Loosen up. Flirt with other girls. Show them what I have."

"I could do it if I wrote it in a letter."

He could see my obvious confusion.

"I helped mom with research one summer. I read some scorching letters from Thomas Jefferson. He was after a married woman. He tried to get her to come over from France and travel with him.

"Franklin was a hell of a flirt, too."

"I bet you didn't even notice it when girls were flirting with you."

His brow furrowed.

"Who flirted with me?"

I shook my head. Then I had a sudden inspiration.

Can you have an elongated inspiration? Is sudden inspiration redundant, like extremely unique?

Anyway, I did have an inspiration.

"Have you ever read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?"

"Yeah, when I was four."

He said it casually; no big deal.

"Fourth grade?"

He shook his head in disagreement.

I shook mine in disbelief.

"Gee, I'm not going to win the books-I-read contest, am I?

"Okay, have you watched any of the old Saturday Night Live reruns?"

"Again, yes."

"Did you ever see any of the Mr. Bill segments?"

"Yes. And I didn't much care for them."

"I'm sorry to hear that, because after you were so completely clueless that you were being flirted with, I realized, William Jefferson Goldberg, there is only one thing I can possibly call you when I'm not using Jeff."

"I'm pretty sure I don't want to hear it."

"I'm pretty sure you don't. But every time I say it, it will remind me of how much I love you, Dr. Goldberg and Mr. Bill."

"Oh, God, no." It was definitely a groan.

"Dr. Goldberg is the savant. Yes, they were flirting with you like crazy at that party after Thanksgiving, Mr. Bill."

"Oi. Why were they flirting with me? What did I do?"

"You were with me. You're such a virgin."

"Figuratively?" he asked.

I nodded, and smiled.

"Four?"

"You had to be there.

"I was a celebrity with the librarians. I started reading at home on my own at around three, real books, but soon I needed more to read.

"So we'd go to the library and I'd bring the books up to the desk, barely able to get them on the desktop.

"And a librarian who hadn't met me would tell Mom what a good choice she'd made for a book to read to me, or maybe that it was too advanced for me to understand.

"And Mom would tell them nobody reads to me. And the librarian would look at her like she'd said I flew in from the planet Zepton."

"Where?" I asked.

"It's just a concept."

I nodded.

"Even after they'd met me a few times some of them were pretty skeptical.

"But I started asking questions about the author, whether there were similar works in the genre, or, sometimes if I was interested in what influenced or inspired the author to write it, where could I find those materials?

"And they decided, no, we weren't playing some elaborate joke on them.

"Maybe they were my first love interest. They'd give me recommendations and we'd argue about the books. Reading and talking with them are some of the best times I remember as a kid."

"You were never a kid," I said.

Jeff tried to teach me ballroom dancing.

He had a difficult time because the concept of following was so alien to me. I had been in charge of every relationship in my life, except for my parents.

In dancing, I was supposed to do whatever he wanted.

I kept trying to lead.

In the end, we succeeded because I was so determined to learn what he was so generously offering.

Okay, that's the spin I gave Jeff. The truth was I absolutely adored being held confidently in his arms and I would have endured almost anything to be able to keep doing it.

I got to be pretty good. I also discovered it was another method of intense, non-verbal communication, not unlike making love.

We didn't neglect that either.

As difficult as it was at first, the learning itself was a delight. My great grandfather had been a young man in the era of the big bands. Ballroom dancing was what they did and I had the good fortune to dance with him when I was young.

He danced like he was born doing it, but I guess that's what practice will do for you.

I knew some waltz, fox trot, swing. But I didn't understand it the way Jeff did and at first I had little concept of leading and following.

He cleared that up quickly. I was used to doing a box in waltz. So, when he led, I went back, side, close and expected to go forward next.

I couldn't.

He was already moving forward, forcing me back before I could try to complete what I thought we were doing. It wasn't just that he was stronger than me, which clearly he was, it was that he beat me to it.

How could I go forward when his body was already encroaching on my space? I had to get out of his way or he would have been tromping on my feet.

When he wanted to change the direction we were facing, he wouldn't just turn, I could feel the arm around my back almost muscling me into the position he wanted. It was not subtle. It was assertive yet not quite coercive, except for the fact that it always happened before I could let him know what I wanted to do.

The assertiveness and anticipation disconcerted me and I found I needed to concentrate too much on what he was asking to attempt to lead myself.

As I concentrated on following, his lead became more subtle.

Instead of pulling me with the arm around my back when he wanted me to turn left, he would push my right hand with his left to move me away from him. I use the word "push," but it was actually very light, yet clear.

The few times it wasn't enough to get my attention, he compensated with that hand around my back. But the more subtle it was, the more fun it was.

When we eventually became proficient together, the suggestion of a turn like that would be accomplished with a barely perceptible pressure from his left hand, too slight to even rumple a rose petal.

At the end of that first session he told me I had been wonderful. And I had. I had learned to listen to his requests. I thought of them as requests because I hate to be told what to do.

And from the firm way he held me with his right arm around my back, the gentle way he held my right hand in his left, the confidence with which he led and let me know in advance what he wanted, I know it was just dancing, but I felt I could relinquish all control to him and he would make sure everything was all right.

That's how I felt each time we danced.

And all the while we danced, he smiled and looked at me with eyes that said there was nothing he would rather be doing and no one he would rather be doing it with.



-------

Chapter 25

Jeff was over my apartment so often we agreed he should just pack up his stuff and move in. He never returned to his room.

There was no discussion about how this fit into our long-term plans. We didn't have long-term plans. This wasn't we're going to get engaged so this is a logical step.

We just wanted to be together, so we were.

One day he returned to find me in a state of deep melancholy. I had no idea why. It may have been hormone related. Nothing I could think of worked to break me out of it. Nothing he could say would bring me out of it, until he said it.

He lifted my chin and smoothed his fingers over my cheek and said, "Come on, Fifths, cheer up."

"What did you say?"

"Come on, Fifths, cheer up."

It all melted away with the nickname that told me more than how much he appreciated my thoughtfulness. I squeezed my arms around him.

"I love you so much, Jeff."

"I know. I love you too. It amazes me how much."

That was our first time. First times can be difficult and awkward. This was as natural as breathing.

I hadn't noticed how much work Jeff was doing. He didn't seem to do anything but study and spend time with me. And he was studying more, like it was actually taking an effort on his part, which seemed unusual.

I didn't realize it until he warned me he might not have much time for me during finals. Last semester, finals had seemed easy, almost casual for him. Now he seemed to be working with single-minded devotion. I asked for an explanation.

"The university agreed to give me credits for some of the things I placed out of. They also agreed to give me credits for the rest of them if I do better than a 3.6 this semester. Altogether, I'll be getting credit for a little more than a year."

"So what's the problem? Have you ever gotten anything other than an A?"

"Yeah, in Art. I'm basically hopeless," he said.

"But you're not taking Art now."

"No. But I'm taking a massive load and it could be difficult to perform to my usual standards."

"What's massive? You took a heavy load last semester."

"Really massive."

He was unusually quiet. Maybe it wasn't unusual; he was always reticent.

"Come on, out with it. How much pressure did you decide to put on yourself?"

"If I do better than 3.6, I'm graduating," he answered.

"What?"

It must have sounded like the reaction to his confessing he'd been cheating on me with my best friend, if I had one. I was incredulous. I was furious.

"When were you going to tell me? We have this great year and you're gone? How could you?"

Then I started to cry. I hated it. It was a sign of weakness.

"No, Fifths, I'm not leaving."

He put his arms around me. I sobbed against him.

"I'm not going anywhere. I start grad school in the fall."

When I calmed down, I hit him, pretty hard this time.

"How could you let me think that, even for a moment? That's cruel."

"I didn't, I had, I didn't realize you'd hear it that way. It never crossed my mind for a second to go anywhere without you. How could you think that?"

Now he sounded incredulous.

"I don't know. It just sounded like, I have no idea. I'm sure there's a good reason in there somewhere, but I don't have a clue what it is. Maybe I'm just insecure. I've never done this before.

"You know lots of people are in love and then they're not."

"Not going to happen, Fifths. You've saturated me so completely, you've become part of my DNA."

"That's probably very romantic in the nerdiest way possible.

"I think I know, maybe I just want to hear it, but you've started calling me 'Fifths' lately and I was wondering why."

"When I think of you, it's your most defining characteristic. You so want to do things to make other people, me, happy, that you're willing to sublimate what you want."

"You so don't know me," I said.

"You so don't know you" he responded.

Could he be right? I hoped so because it said something about me I would really like to be true, and also because it would mean I was worth continuing to love.

Interestingly, for the first time in my life, my defining characteristic was not my beauty.

"Graduate school? Are you going to have a Ph.D. before I graduate?"

"Don't be silly," he said. "I couldn't possibly get one before that."

"Before that? You could really get one that fast?"

"We haven't worked out the details."

"Wow, this is your last summer of freedom."

I knew there was more from the look on his face. I asked with my own look.

"I've got a job. It's actually part of a whole package."

I waited for more but there was none.

"That's it? That's the end of what you're telling me?

"You really are my idiot savant.

"You're so smart it sounds like you have almost your whole future assured before you finish your first year of college.

"And you're such an idiot you won't tell the woman you love about it. How did you get like this?"

"Practice, practice, practice."

"I know how you got to be a smartass. Why don't you want to tell me?"

"I'm embarrassed."

"About?"

"I don't know. It feels like I'm bragging if I talk about it," he said.

"It feels like you're keeping it from me if you don't."

"I didn't do anything to get these brains. They just showed up."

He shrugged.

"One day I was self aware and there they were. It seems really immodest to have pride in something you didn't do anything to earn."

"I, gee, that actually makes some sense.

"But there are other people involved when you decide to keep something to yourself. Think of how it makes me feel when you don't tell me this kind of stuff.

"Besides, it's not the brains you were given that's impressive, well, it is that anybody gets them, it's what you do with them."

"I'm sorry. I wrote a paper for a class and it got published in a journal. It intrigued some people at Second Foundation Biomed. They contacted me and the school, and put together this deal so I could start working for them sooner, rather than later.

"If I have a degree, they'll feel more comfortable paying me a real salary instead of what they'd pay an intern."

I waited. It was clear from his look that there was more. He had more reluctance than I had patience.

"And?" My voice was starting to get louder.

"They're paying for grad school. They set it up as a scholarship. And I'll be working for them for part of the breaks. The scholarship covers the Ph.D. After that, I have a five-year contract with them.

"It's like locking up a basketball player with a long-term contract coming right out of high school before he gets to be so expensive later they won't be able to afford to keep him."

Nice analogy. I was a little surprised he knew about that.

Still, "When were you going to tell me all this?"

"When the time was right."

"And when would that be?" I asked.

"I have no idea. It kind of overwhelmed me. I didn't know what to say."

He could hear the emotion, the pain in my voice. I made no effort to hide it. Tears were forming in my eyes.

"I thought it never crossed your mind to go anywhere without me. Where does this leave us?"

"My first year of grad school is here. That might be all it takes. But I can go anywhere after that; wherever you work, wherever you're going to school. I just have to be near Radnor during the summers before I finish school.

"It happened so fast, and you know I don't like to talk about myself, and, I didn't know what to say."

"My guy. Well, at least you'll be able to take me out sometimes now."

There was that look again.

"They are paying you, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they're paying me."

It wasn't a simple statement. There was an air of mystery to it.

"Are they paying you a decent amount?"

After all, I could be living with him for the entire length of the contract. I certainly hoped so.

"Well, I've got a minimum guarantee through the life of the contract, but we expect to renegotiate when the five years starts."

"Oddly enough, that's not an amount."

Now I understood what Jen had meant about pulling teeth.

"Are you contractually forbidden to tell me what you're making?"

"Would you believe that?" he asked.

"Do I look that stupid?"

"Couldn't you just be gullible?"

"Why don't you just tell me?"

Just a little more hestitation. His eyes drifted downward and voice got lower.

"$240,000."

"Holy shit! Per year? Every year? To start?"

He blushed and nodded.

I thought I was the basketball player. Had there been a sudden bout of inflation since the last time I went to the bathroom?

Nobody should be paid that kind of money unless they did something really important for society, like recording music or playing sports.

"They must really want you," I said.

He took a deep breath. There was more?

"There was a little bit of a bidding war. Another company got wind of the negotiations and things got kind of hectic."

"Gee, I'm surprised they didn't give you a piece of the company."

He had that look again.

"No way."

He tried to suppress it, but he started to laugh.

"I just wanted to have a little fun with you."

"Shut up. I may have to upgrade my opinion of you. So how much are you really making?"

"$240,000. I was just kidding about getting a piece of the company."

"When you exceed your 3.6, you owe me dinner at a very exclusive restaurant."

"It will be my pleasure."

I decided this would be a good time to have some pleasure of my own so I took his hand and led him to the bedroom.



-------

Chapter 26

I ran into Jen on campus. It was inevitable.

"Ashley Fine, I can't believe how good you look. I mean you always look fabulous, but you have a kind of glow that makes you look unreal. It's gotta be a guy."

She reached out and touched my arm. A look of astonishment took over her face.

"No, not Jeff."

I must have let out some of the inner glow.

"Jeff."

"You lucky girl."

"Maybe he's a lucky guy," I said.

"I think you have changed. You said 'maybe.'"

I giggled but I felt ambivalent. I was doing that a lot lately.

Here was someone who knew Jeff, someone I could talk to about him, who would understand the magic I was seeing in him.

On the other hand, here was someone who knew Jeff, or at least had known him, who would understand the magic I was seeing in him.

I didn't like the idea of having to share him, but that was in the past. The chance to talk with someone other than his mother about him was irresistible.

"He says I've changed. His mom says I've changed," I said.

"You've met his family?"

"Lots of times."

I win.

"This must be serious." She had a smile that let me know it was part tease. "Have you taken him home to meet your parents?"

"I'm planning to do that on our 50th anniversary."

"Yeah, I guess you didn't get the way you were by accident."

"How was I?"

Oops, she'd forgotten who she was talking to and momentarily lapsed into candor.

"Self-assured." Self-centered.

"Poised." Aloof.

"In control." Controlling.

"You shouldn't be an English major, Jen, you should be training for the diplomatic service. You could sell shit and position it as organic fertilizer, or plant food."

She didn't feel the need to respond.

"I have changed. Jeff says it was there all along. The stuff I cared so much about six months ago just doesn't seem that important anymore."

"I know exactly what you mean. I changed a lot, too, after I met Jeff. He makes you question the reasons you do things."

"I know exactly what you mean. He acts strange sometimes and you come to find out he's actually doing it for a reason."

"And he's so supportive," said Jen.

Would that it were my parents saying this.

"Yeah, but the best thing, and maybe the worst, well, one of the best, I don't know. Anyway, he believes in me, more than I believe in myself. It's scary.

"I feel like I have to work to make sure I don't let him down. But I know that even if I do, he'll keep believing in me."

"Wow." I knew that tone; it was awe.

"Do you want to get some coffee and talk? My treat," I said.

"Who are you and what have you done with Ashley Fine?"

We had engaged in banter before, but this was a genuinely friendly exchange. I was drawn to her.

I had been doing that a lot lately: Sunny, Sandy, Harri, Sam. Was I just trying to score a friend other than Sunny, or was this a real connection?

I had been doing a lot of that lately, too: questioning why I did things.

I never used to do that before. What did it matter why as long as I got what I wanted? Now that wasn't enough.

We walked to Starbucks. I had a vente café mocha with a double shot of espresso. Jennifer had a vente skim caramel macchiato. We could drink until we needed to pee.

"What about you, Jen, do you have somebody special?"

"Not at the moment. I'm looking, but I don't feel any pressure to grab someone up just to have him. I'm also not into that thing we were into with guys who have or will have money. I'd rather have a guy who can add to my life to make me happy."

"Someone like Jeff?" I asked.

"Someone not Jeff, but kind of like Jeff. He's too, Jeff.

"Jeff, is a strange combination. He has amazing emotional maturity in a lot of ways, not even considering how young he is. But in some emotional aspects he's almost clueless.

"And socially, he's damn near lost. He's going to be incredible. He is incredible, but he's just going to keep getting better, you know?"

"Yeah, I know", I said. "I know it's not the real definition, but I tell him he's an idiot savant. And I never know which one is going to show up. But I love them both."

Dr. Goldberg and Mr. Bill I was saving for Jeff and me.

"Love?"

I shrugged.

"Yeah. Love. Imagine that.

"Hey, you're not going to believe this, well maybe you will, it looks like Jeff is going to graduate."

"What? This year? How can he do that?"

"I don't know, but he's planning on starting a Ph.D. program here in the fall."

"Damn."

She took a sip.

"Damn. So, are you teaching him how to get around in your social circles?"

That could be taken as catty, but I decided to be generous and view it as naïve.

"That's in his idiot zone. I'm sure he could learn it if he wanted, but there's no chance at all he'd ever be interested. He thinks it's like, crazy. Just imagine him talking to Buffy about her wardrobe at a party."

"Who's Buffy?"

"A metaphor," I said.

She laughed.

"You're a lot more fun that you used to be. I think you're happier too."

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself. Any big plans for the summer?"

"Small plans. I'm working in a pilot reading program associated with the Free Library of Philadelphia."

"I thought you were an English major."

"Just a slight change of plans. I think I want to teach so I've been taking enough education credits to graduate on time if I decide that's what I want.

"The job isn't so much for the money, it better not be on what they're paying. It's to find out if it's something I can do and like. Are you still doing the business thing?"

"I've been thinking about it. I have lots of contacts and I do well with people so it would seem to be a good fit. I'm just not excited about the prospect."

I took a sip. Drinking seemed to make the pace more leisurely.

"Is that part of the new you? Did it excite you before?" asked Jen.

I'd been asking myself more and more questions and the conclusions were pretty harsh.

"I don't think I did a lot of reflecting before. I had no doubts about anything, but I don't think that was because I was confident in my choices.

"I'm not sure I made choices. There's stuff you do and stuff you have to do and you do it, you know? Is this making any sense?"

"I'm not sure," said Jen.

Try it another way. Like Jeff says, one on one you get to try everything until you find something that works.

"Hot girl. Guys do what you want. So do most other girls. I know how to play politics. My family has money. You'd think I could do anything I want.

"But all of that pointed me in very few directions and it's like I did the only thing I could. Not just academic either."

Well, here it was. Did I want to take the risk?

What could I possibly gain from sincerity? Maybe a friend?

I didn't have to let it all out at once.

"I never put my feelings on the line. I never cared about anybody. I think it was because that way they couldn't hurt me. If I don't care, what difference does it make how people act towards me? I'm not sure about this, by the way; it's just a theory."

"Interesting theory. I wonder if it applies to me, too."

"You're a hot girl," I said.

Sipping isn't the same as thinking, but it gives you time to think, to consider what you want to say. Jen was sipping a lot and it didn't seem like she was just thirsty.

"So you're saying Jeff could hurt you? You're really?" She shrugged.

"Big time. And I worry about it. What happens when he finds out I'm not this great person he thinks I am? He's so young and smart and a little bit hot. He could get almost anybody."

"Yeah, and he picked you. Jeff's really smart and he's perceptive too. If he thinks you're special, he's probably right."

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. I still wasn't convinced. I wasn't sure she was either.

Pouring out some of your heart, is this how you develop friends? It's a scary process.

"You know, your summer program sounds interesting. I've always been a voracious reader."

"You're kidding," she said.

"Why doesn't anybody believe I can read?"

"We know you can; nobody thought you actually did."

I laughed.

I didn't suppose it was important to correct the misperception.

Finals were right around the corner, I told Jen I'd give her a call when I got back home.



-------

Chapter 27


I worked harder than ever for finals. I might as well. Jeff was completely immersed in studying.

Of course we were sleeping together so I did get in some nice cuddle time.

Sometimes we stayed awake together and that was pretty special too.

But what really stands out about the time is how hard we worked. And even though so much of our time was spent preparing, we were doing it together.

We had our individual books and papers and downloads but, somehow, we were a team. We prepared meals together; cleaned up together; rubbed each others' backs when they were getting tight; sat with his arms around me on the sofa when we took breaks together.

It was a revelation that we could build our togetherness while spending most of our time apart.

And then finals were upon us.

If I thought it was difficult for me, and I did, I can't even begin to imagine what it was like for Jeff.

Since he was lucky enough to have four courses in which the final was a paper he could write before finals week, he only had nineteen finals.

The school made special arrangements since some of his finals were as long as three hours and he needed time to eat and crisscross the campus.

I got to prepare some of my specialties that week for dinner - take out.

I was deliberately vague with my parents about when I finished and stayed at the apartment until Jeff finished his finals, and a few days beyond. Both of us needed the time to recuperate.

More important, I wanted to spend the time with him.

I don't know how he had found the time to do it, but he surprised me with tickets to a Broadway show. I protested his paying for them.

"You deserve it. You're the best girlfriend I've ever had," he said.

"I'm the only girlfriend you ever had."

"Q.E.D."

"What?"

"Quod erat demonstrandum. Sorry, it's Latin. It's typically used at the end of a mathematical proof. It means 'as it was to be demonstrated or proved.' As my only girlfriend, you're clearly the best."

He took my hands in his.

"But just like a geometric postulate, it's clear to me I would come to the same conclusion no matter how many girlfriends I'd had, and no one could hope to do better than I have with you."

"Again, very romantic in the nerdiest way possible. How do you do it?"

"It's just how I feel. It comes -"

"I was joking. It's actually very endearing. Maybe I'm just learning to speak Nerd."

He took me to dinner before the show. He assured me he could afford it on what they were paying him for the summer.

We got back from New York pretty late and, young as we were, we were wiped. We started with a little bit of kissing but then we both fell asleep.

In the morning we were refreshed and he greeted me with that biological imperative we women have grown so fond of. God, I'm starting to sound like him.

We built it up nice and slow. There was still technique involved. But, mostly, it was wonderful because it was the two of us and how we felt about each other. Then he suggested I go cowgirl.

"It's a peculiar situation," he said. "Almost anything you do to a guy is great. It's really hard to mess it up. But girls are much more complicated.

"When we're in charge, we can make a pretty good guess at what will please you and usually do a pretty fair job. But we'll always make mistakes.

"However, when you're in charge, you can feel exactly what is working and make adjustments as they're needed. It's a lot like riding a horse in a race where the jockey has to make constant adjustments."

"How many horses have you ridden in races?" I asked.

"I read a book."

"Oh, you read a book. Who could possibly doubt your analogy? You did read that book on sex."

"Well, you know, there's -"

"Shut up! This is not a particularly arousing conversation. We can talk horse racing later."

Dr. Goldberg bowed to my superior logic. He let me take the reins. I rode him hard and put him away wet.

I wanted just a few more days before summer break. I couldn't exactly smuggle Jeff into my room and have him live at my house.

Could I?

My parents didn't take much notice of me, but they probably did take that much.

My reverie came to an abrupt end with a phone call from my Father. He knew my semester was over and expected me home. Then he dropped the bombshell. Well, it shouldn't have been a bombshell. I had just forgotten.

"You need to get home so you can prepare for the trip."

"We're going this year?"

"We go every year. Where is your head?"

"I just, I'm almost twenty-one. I didn't think I'd have to go."

"Of course you have to go. It's our family vacation; we do it together and you have to meet people. You certainly can't do that from here."

"But what if I don't want to go this year?"

"Don't be silly. You have to go. You love it."

"Okay. I'll start packing up here today and try to get out of here tomorrow or Sunday."

"Why would it take you that long to pack?"

"I have to clean the place up. I haven't had the time to do that with all the studying.

"I have to do the piled-up dishes, all the wash, floors, clean up generally; I wouldn't want to come back to that kind of mess in the fall."

But mostly I wanted to spend two more days with Jeff.

"I can send someone to do that."

"Come on, Dad. This is stuff I do all year. I just got behind during finals. I'll have plenty of time to get ready when I get home."

"All right, I'll see you Sunday."

How was I going to break this to Jeff?

"So you go away on a family trip every summer?" he asked.

That was easy. The next part wouldn't be.

"For a month."

"Damn. Maybe I can get some time to come up and see you."

"To Europe."

"Oh."

He was dejected. So was I; I just hid it better.

"I'll talk to my Father when I get home. Maybe I can talk him out of it."

"Well, I'll be pretty busy during the week anyway," Jeff said.

So they make him work nights too? If he can put up a brave front for me, I can put one up for him.

"This will be good. We'll get to find out how we feel about being apart."

That made no sense at all.

"Yeah. That will make it even better when you come back than if we were together the whole summer."

Weren't we pathetic? Or would it be more pathetic to moan and lament about how much we were going to miss each other?

"Well, we've got two days together here and more time at home before I go. Let's not waste it," I said.

The phone call had put a temporary damper on the hot and sweaty stuff so we got hot and sweaty by taking a long walk, his arm around my shoulder even though it was pretty warm out.

I pressed against him because I liked how it felt.

Campus was pretty deserted. It felt almost like a vacation on a tiny, isolated island.

We didn't talk much and at another time that would have been perfect. But my mind was going a mile a minute, filled with insecurities, with questions. How had I gone from a life I was so sure I wanted to a polar opposite?

Did I have enough of whatever it took to hold onto Jeff? What, exactly, did it take?

Would he get bored with me because I couldn't keep up with him? Was I the person he said I was, or was he seeing what he wanted to see?

This was so risky and scary and by far the most fulfilling thing I had ever done in my life. What would I do if I lost him? The very question filled me with such terror I trembled.

"Are you chilly?" He sounded incredulous.

"Don't be silly. It's too warm. I just had a muscle spasm."

Should I be sharing this with him? Would it make me less attractive to be recognized as so insecure? Would I be giving him more power over me? Would he always use it benevolently?

This went way beyond the calculations that had served me so well in other relationships. Find their weaknesses and use them to always stay in control.

I had no idea how to factor in anything with Jeff. Being seen as weak could be a strength; being strong, a weakness. Was being vulnerable a good thing or a bad thing? Maybe both.

I think he sensed that I was troubled. Maybe I'm just crediting him with superhuman powers.

When we go back, he put on one of his CDs, took me in his arms, and we danced on the wood floor in the dining room.

"Heaven. I'm in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek."

I don't know who was singing, but he had it right.



-------

Chapter 28

The next two days were like being on a honeymoon. We put all our focus on being together. We ate meals out. We didn't do laundry or dishes. We made love.

We went to a movie. We took walks. We played Scrabble - once. Never again will I allow someone to so thoroughly humiliate me at a game.

He even let me take him to a club where I knew the bouncer so we didn't need fake id, which was good because Jeff didn't have any.

It was very generous on his part. I could see him trying to pretend to have a good time for me.

He found the music "energizing" but he looked worn out when he finished saying it.

The people were "friendly" but he made no attempt to talk to anyone.

The whole evening was "a lot of fun" but I could see the thinly disguised panic in his eyes.

He really tried not to let me know how awful it was for him. It was incredibly sweet.

One thing I knew for sure: he could never lie to me. He did insincerity so badly.

I began to see some of why this might not be fun for him. It was too loud to talk effectively. People were trying to impress each other with their clothing, their drinking and their dancing. Their faces took on masks of enjoyment for each others' consumption just like Jeff's was for mine.

I enjoy dancing around with complete freedom. But it doesn't compare to dancing cheek to cheek.

I loved walking around during the day hand in hand. I loved leaning against him as we watched the little ducks follow their moms by the pond.

A honeymoon is a time when you pretend the rest of the world is irrelevant and all that is important is the two of you and your immediate pleasures. This was a make-pretend honeymoon, but why should that be spoiled by one more level of make pretend?

On Sunday we had to pack and the mood was spoiled. My packing was relatively minimal. I would be back here in the fall and I could leave whatever I wanted. Then we faced what to do about Jeff's stuff.

We knew I would be back, but was it 100% certain that he would return? What might happen during the summer that could change that?

"I think you should take your stuff, Jeff. If I have room to take it home now, I'll have room to bring it back in the fall. You never know."

"What don't you know?" he asked.

"What could happen."

"What could happen? Are you unsure about us?"

"No. Not even a little bit. But, you know, stuff happens you don't plan on."

"I see. So if my parents bought a vacation cabin, my dad should bring his stuff home when they leave because, you know, stuff happens you don't plan on."

"That's not the same thing. That's unfair," I said.

"What's going on? Do you think you don't deserve it or something?"

"I don't know. I just have a foreboding. We don't have any formal commitment or anything, you know. Anything could happen."

He took a deep breath. I think that's why his tone was calm instead of agitated.

"Have you ever heard of divorce?"

It was rhetorical; he didn't wait for an answer.

"People make a formal commitment. Based on it they have children. They acquire property and debts. And then more than half of them dissolve the formal commitment.

"In the final analysis, if you're committed to a relationship, the formality or legality of it should not be enough to deter you from doing what you believe in.

"I say: assume we're not getting divorced. If the unlikely occurs, we'll figure out how to deal with it. I'm committed to being in this place with you again in a few months."

I conceded the argument with an embrace.

We left some of his stuff in the drawers and in the closet.

When he wasn't looking, I snuck one of his unwashed InTime shirts into my suitcase. I wanted to be able to smell him while we were apart.

A week later I got a last-minute surprise. I got to tell my parents I was going to graduation; I had some friends to support and it had slipped my mind.

I did have some friends to support, but Jeff had forgotten his family would want to go. His 4.00 average was sending him to grad school in the fall. The school had rushed his grades because the possibility of his graduating had previously been unanticipated.

Just a few days later I would find out I had earned a 4.00 as well.

I told my parents I wanted to make the trip leisurely and, since I had nothing planned except packing for Europe, I would be spending a few days at school.

Jeff just told his folks he'd be spending a few days at school without bothering to supply an explanation. Even his sister knew why he was taking the extra time.

When I picked him up that removed any possibility of subterfuge.

Jeff met me at the door and I really couldn't wait. I put my arms around him and leaned in for one of those delicious kisses. Just as important was to revel in his aroma: the scent of his soap, his shampoo, the laundry detergent his mother used and a scent that was unique to his skin underneath it all.

Sometimes there was the added bite of his perspiration. I didn't know if Jeff was reveling in the Ashley fragrance, but he was content to just hold me close as we shifted position now and then.

"I don't even know what to say. I don't know exactly what it is you two are enjoying so much, but it is very sweet." Sunny beamed.

It was sweet. Neither of us felt any urgency to stop in front of an audience. Eventually we felt we had refreshed our connection sufficiently to hold us over until we got to school, and we left.

It was a delight to spend the time together. It didn't matter to me what we were doing. Well, I did mention some preferences now and then without pressing the matter. I wanted to try something new.

I felt the compulsion to drag him into bed and make love with him until there was only time left for him to shower, dress and rush to the graduation exercises at the last moment.

But I thought of something that might be even better: I waited.

We went out for a leisurely dinner. I insisted we walk around town rather than return home immediately. Finally, I agreed to return home. When we walked in he grabbed me and started toward the bedroom.

I objected.

"What's the problem?" He sounded like a petulant child.

"I want to watch some TV."

It was casual, as if I had nothing in particular on my mind and this seemed a harmless diversion.

"What's on that's so important?"

"I don't know. Do we have a TV page?"

"You don't even know what's on, but you know that what you want to do is watch TV?"

His tone had changed abruptly. He had figured it out. He was a savant after all. His whole demeanor, his body language changed as well. No longer the petulant child, he was the playful puppy.

"I think we get Home Shopping on 33. Maybe they have some good knick knacks."

He had taken control of the game so easily, but I was up to the task.

"No. I think I want to watch something on Lifetime. Maybe they have something that will put me in the mood to get romantic with you later. You never know. You might get lucky."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"No big deal. If it doesn't work, I think I have my travel Scrabble with me. We can play until we get tired and turn in."

He succeeded admirably at sounding bored. But disinterested was a performance at which I had many years of practice and there was no way he could beat me at that game.

And so we played.

We both feigned lack of interest while trading repartee through a whole numbing evening of Lifetime reruns of movies with three-word titles. It could have been called Our Playful Evening.

At least it should have been numbing. I was simmering. Then I moved to a slow boil and by the 11:00 News it was a rolling boil.

By the way he was fidgeting I was pretty sure he was in the same condition. I wanted to take a sharp knife and slice his clothes off right there on the couch. But I didn't. I managed to maintain my control.

He stretched.

I scratched my head.

The weather came on at around 11:15. The next few days were going to be very pleasant.

Inside it was hot and steamy.

I laugh now at our obstinacy. Neither of us wanted to lose. But even to lose meant getting to enjoy the pleasure we could barely restrain ourselves from starting.

That didn't help. We sat through sports and the final amusing story, whatever it was, because I certainly wasn't paying attention. I was thinking of his smell, his taste. I moaned involuntarily.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"I, just had a muscle spasm in my back. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh. Okay."

"Leno, Letterman or Nightline?" I asked.

We had real issues to discuss.

"Doesn't matter."

"I think we might want to consider a compromise here."

I was only offering the possibility. I had not lost by speaking first.

"Which one is the compromise?" he asked.

"None of them."

"So you're suggesting?"

"Hey, you're the man. You have the remote."

He hesitated before he picked it up, held it in his hand as if really making a decision and turned off the set.

We both dashed for the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way.

The first time was not going to be a feast to be savored. We had allowed ourselves to become far too hungry.

We went at each other with a frenzy, interrupted several times when we burst into uncontrollable laughter based, I assume, on the incongruity of the endless foreplay where we did nothing for hours followed by a brief flurry of activity where we tried to make up for everything we could have done in all that time had either of us been willing to give in.

Thanks to the recuperative powers of youth that did not put an end to our evening. It was completely different from our first session. But it was also unlike the delicious feasts Jeff had shown me in the beginning.

It was slow, extended, done with great care. But it lacked the technical design. The approach was essentially the same. The care we took was essentially the same. But the connection was emotional more than it was physical.

When I would kiss a spot, I would be acutely aware of the taste, the smell, the texture, the heat, sometimes even the sound. I would think of the person I had become, was becoming, wanted to become, because of knowing the man whose skin tingled against my lips.

Sometimes I would notice a meaningful reaction. He would make a throaty moan when I gently kissed the bottom of his neck where it joined his shoulder.

I'm sure he noticed those things as well because he would visit my hot spots much more frequently than would be expected by mere chance. In fact, those were his exact words. You didn't think I was starting to talk like that, did you?

When we finished that night, I felt like what it must feel like to run a marathon. I was high on endorphins and had exhausted my body's available supply of energy. If there had been a fire, he would have had to carry me out.

When I awoke, he was in the kitchen making breakfast, judging from the aroma.

I was relaxed, content, and so happy that I wanted to share it with the world. That's what gave me the idea. I picked up the phone and made a quick call before I dressed, scantily though it was, for breakfast. I didn't want him to think the honeymoon was over.

When the hearty breakfast was over, I led him back to the bedroom. I wanted to wring one more orgasm from him while we still had the chance.



-------

Chapter 29


It turned out to be two. He was still just eighteen years old and, my goodness, he was graduating from college in two days.

While he was resting, I saw the look in his eyes. He thought his age would provide him with yet another opportunity before dinner. I disabused him of that notion.

"I called your mom this morning."

"Really? What did she say? What did you say? What am I missing?"

"I asked her to put Sandy on a bus so we could show her aroun d, away from the adults."

Most guys would have been pretty annoyed by the imposition ofa case of ED - erectile deferral. I didn't expect that would be the case, but I was surprised by his reaction.

He shook his head slowly and then took me in his arms.

"You are absolutely amazing. I didn't think of it but you did. You have no idea how amazing you are."

His voice had the wonder and awe of a boy about to plunge headlong into his first crush over Miss First or Second-Grade teacher, the astonishment of that first time seeing a magician pull a long train of knotted handkerchiefs from his empty hand.

I have a very good idea how much I blushed. I felt the heat on my skin all the way down my legs.

It was still so hard to believe. I was used to being Ashley the aloof, the self-centered. No matter what I did, no matter how many times I received praise for something other than my looks, there was a small twinge of doubt it was real; a fear the old Ashley would return.

But she wasn't returning this evening. We drove to the bus station and sat on a bench holding hands and grinning stupidly.

We didn't have to keep a lookout for Sandy. We heard her squealing as she came at us like a missile. She made contact with me first and when she let go, jumped up and down a couple times and jumped onto Jeff, wrapping her legs around his waist.

She was expressing her excitement but she was so wired that, even though it was intelligible, unless you listened carefully, it sounded quite a bit like gibberish.

One of Jeff's more annoying, and endearing, habits was starting to rub off on me. He analyzed everything.

I was analyzing more and more. I particularly took note of the incredible feeling of elation I experienced because Sandy was so excited to be here with us, to be included as someone with whom we wanted to share our experience.

As much as I had felt the excitement of giving the Goldbergs and the Marcuses, Sam and Harri, their Chanukah presents, and though this wasn't a gift in the traditional sense, I acutely felt the truth of a phrase I once thought a mealy-mouthed rationalization: It is better to give than to receive. I couldn't imagine any gift I could be given that would make me feel this good. For once there was no twinge of doubt.

We took Sandy to a nice dinner and walked around town for about half an hour before returning to our place. I made coffee for Sandy and me, but Jeff stuck with Cherry Coke.

Rather than watch TV, we sat down for a game of Scrabble. Perhaps with Sandy's help, we could slow him down.

I don't think it shows a lack of modesty when I say I am a very smart person, extremely well read with an extensive vocabulary. Sandy is nothing short of brilliant.

After the first game Jeff was barred from ever playing Scrabble with us again.

We allowed him to join in the conversation, but we were damned if we were going to let him make any more seven-letter, triple-word-score words.

He wandered off after a few games. I think he was hurt not to be included although he denied it. But I could see it in his eyes. I don't know if it was pride, chivalry or simple denial.

He said he was going to read a book.

This gave me a chance to bond with my "little sister." She was amazed her parents had let her take three days off of school.

I wasn't. She had never gotten any grade other than "A" in her entire school career, with the exception of Physical Education.

Her face took on a dreamlike quality.

"I love the way you guys are with each other. You love Jeff so much, but he's absolutely stupid for you."

That was wonderful to hear from an outside observer.

"What's the difference between so in love and absolutely stupid?"

"Well, I never thought about it. I guess it's like Justice Potter Stewart's opinion trying to define pornography. I can't define it, but I know it when I see it."

"You're fifteen. What do you know about porn?"

"Please. Let me think."

And she did. I just wasn't sure about what.

"You love Jeff but you keep something in reserve. I don't know what it is, but you do.

"You think he's the greatest and you have no doubt you love him, but something's there. You'll have to figure it out.

"Jeff, on the other hand, holds nothing back. He's working without a net. If you did something, even accidentally, to hurt him, he'd be crushed. He doesn't believe it's possible. It would mean his whole way of thinking was wrong.

"If he did something to hurt you, it would be bad and, yeah, you'd feel devastated. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you know it's possible.

"He's so stupid for you he doesn't even recognize the possibility. So, I guess that's how I'd define them, for now."

"Wow."

I should stop saying that. I should stop being so amazed at the things people in this family say and their insights. She was dead on. He didn't think it was possible. I knew it was.

"That's really unfair. It puts an incredible burden on me. Shit."

"I guess it is and I guess it does."

Then she went dreamy on me.

"But isn't it fabulous to have somebody love you that much?"

"I guess it's a blessing and a curse."

But was it a burden beyond the strength of Hercules? Would the pressure continue to build until I was no longer able to handle it? Would I do something to destroy the relationship just to relieve the pressure?

Maybe this is why people go through so many "loves" before they start to figure out how to handle all the difficulties.

We moved on to less scary topics. We talked until after 1:00. Then we hugged like real sisters probably don't, at least not very often.



-------

Chapter 30


Jeff was asleep.

I snuggled in beside him and it woke him up. He turned to me, took me in his arms and kissed me. It started out as an it's-nice-to-have-you-here kiss, but the level of passion increased rapidly.

"Not with your sister in the next room."

"I know. I wasn't thinking of that. I was just thinking of how happy I am to have you here with me."

Great. It was a blessing and a curse.

The relationship would fall apart within days if I kept thinking about how bad it was that it was so good.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied.

"I can feel it. Your body tensed up in a something's-wrong way."

"You can't possibly tell that just from holding me."

But I knew he could. So I told him about my conversation with Sandy and my fears.

"It's a triumph of hope over reason. I've never been seriously hurt by someone I trust. If it happens, I won't be a virgin anymore. I'll learn to deal with it. I just won't have my innocence intact."

And that was it.

My body relaxed and he chuckled, his point confirmed. He would learn to deal with it. He would be okay.

I would try to avoid it, but it didn't have to drain all my energy.

We walked around the campus.

We had coffee at the Student Union even though it was nowhere near as good as what we could have gotten at Starbucks. This place had ambience. Okay, it had an authentic college feel and that was more important to Sandy.

We went food shopping so that after dinner we could make our own desserts: big, nasty sundaes with nuts, jimmies, chocolate syrup, maraschino cherries and Jeff and I had bananas.

It took a lot longer to make them than to eat them, though we did try to savor what could not possibly be mistaken for a delicacy.

We turned in after the 11:00 news. His family would be here in the morning.

Graduation was no big deal to Jeff, but it was to his family so he gathered the appropriate level of enthusiasm to make them happy.

I watched the way he did it and his attitude. It wasn't a task he resented. It certainly wasn't something that was expected. He did it because it gave him joy to make them happy.

Sandy was so thrilled to have been included by us that it spilled over when the family arrived into unbridled enthusiasm to see them. Everybody was delighted to see everybody.

Sam and Harri took me aside to tell me of their week-long wagon train adventure. Harri told me that, even though it was almost as far from luxurious as possible, it felt like a second honeymoon to them, despite the fact that they had already taken a second honeymoon, and a third.

Listening to them gave me hope. They had been together for over 40 years and were clearly devoted to each other, maybe even stupid in love.

Sam picked up a few authentic trail recipes and promised to showcase them for me. I experienced the joy of giving all over again.

Louis was kind of warm and friendly if still a bit awkward. He was clearly sincere, he just wasn't that comfortable expressing it. He was an enigma. It would probably take a long time get to know him.

Sunny was the essence of loving. If a picture is worth a thousand words, the way she hugged you and the noises and rubs that accompanied it were worth an entire chapter.

We headed to the stadium. No other place on campus had nearly enough room to accommodate friends and family. We were fortunate to have a pleasant day topping out at 72 degrees with very few clouds in the sky.

The graduates numbered nearly three thousand and we didn't expect to hear Jeff's name in the ceremony. His grades would have made him valedictorian, but he wasn't even really in this class and the deal to allow him to graduate had been made within the last few weeks. So we were surprised to hear his name announced as recipient of a newly created full scholarship for grad school.

His parents and grandparents were delighted to hear this, but Sandy was busting at the seams at the laudatory mention of her big brother. Somehow, I didn't think my graduation would be like this.

I watched Sunny and Louis. He didn't verbalize much. I saw not only the way he treated her, but his body language, the way he looked at her. It didn't take a detective to figure out how she felt about him. I logged another reason for hope.

Sunny and Louis took us all to a lovely dinner and returned home with Sam, Harri and Sandy, giving Jeff and me another day to be together.

I could say we put it to good advantage, but anything we did together seemed to be putting the time to good advantage. It was not only faith that led me to believe I could find my way to stupid.

I saw Jeff some nights and every weekend before I left. It was wonderful, but it wasn't the same as living together.

When I went to the hamper, never did I find a pair of boxers that didn't quite make it in.

When I woke up in the morning, there was no warm Jeff-smelling body to snuggle against. No cheek to cheek on demand before the chest to chest.

We did those things, but it wasn't the same.

I even missed finding the lid up on the toilet seat, though perhaps it was the nostalgia of finding it up I missed rather than the reality.

I missed these things even more as my departure drew closer.

We made plans. I thought I had done an effective job of keeping any knowledge of Jeff's existence from my parents. I didn't want them being surprised by a phone call from America.

Email and IM should provide an effective way to contact each other. I gave Jeff our address outside of London just in case, but I didn't think he would have any need to use it.

I packed early so no one would have to bother me to get ready the night before we left. I took Jeff home a little before six in the morning. Even if I could have persuaded my father to let me find my own way to the airport, Jeff couldn't take me there. As far as my parents knew, he didn't exist.

I snuck away to say goodbye on my cell. He took the opportunity to play.

"So, are you bringing any good books with you?" he asked.

"On a trip to Europe? I may have other things to do. There are so many handsome young men there."

"You're going to fall behind in book points."

"Hey, I can give you a run for your money. I know you read lots of technical stuff, but I may read even more novels than you."

"Not with all the time you're going to be spending chasing after those handsome young men."

"Ashley Fine does not chase men of any description."

There was a lull. I don't think either of us wanted to say, "I'm going to miss you."

Whether it was because it was something real or because I was in serious need of some rationalization, I began to look on the trip as an opportunity to see how I handled myself without Jeff.

My reasoning, or rationalization, was that I was relying too much on being with Jeff to supply my happiness. Time away would give me an opportunity to develop a better sense of who I was now and what was important to me.

When we lifted off, I watched the ground recede and felt a profound sense of emptiness. It had not just been a rationalization.



-------

Chapter 31


I was tired and jet lagged and just dumped my stuff and went to sleep when we arrived at our home outside London.

In the morning, I fired off an email to let Jeff know I had arrived safely. He apparently thought it required no response, because he didn't reply.

We visited with friends, made plans to attend parties and relaxed around the pool for the first few days. I wasn't quite so relaxed.

I sent off a few chatty emails to let Jeff know what I was doing, but he didn't reply to any of them.

It was one thing to have the opportunity to find myself in his absence; quite another to have to go cold turkey.

I wasn't becoming concerned, I was becoming unhappy.

Why didn't he contact me, if only to say hello? Had being with me constantly been so difficult that he needed a vacation? Had he realized I needed time to figure some things out and decided to give me the necessary space?

Quite unexpectedly, I received a letter on our fifth day there. There was no return address and my name and address were hand-written. I opened it to find a hand-written letter, readable, but with decidedly inferior penmanship.



My Dearest Miss Fine,

You have only just departed, and yet I find myself overtaken by melancholy at your absence. You well know of my great esteem for you and it is my fondest wish that my discomfort at your absence cause you no distress. The delectation of your companionship these many months has surfeited my current state of disquietude.

It is my fondest wish that your current travels provide all the rewards you desire for such a significant enterprise.

I anxiously, yet patiently, await your return, when I can again bask in the warmth of your presence as a rose resumes its growth when revived from the chill of the night by the morning sun, and be nourished by the sound of your sweet voice.

Until then, I am ever,

Your humble servant,

W. J. Goldberg



What? No email and then this, what is it?

I read it again.

It clicked. This must be like those letters Thomas Jefferson wrote to that French chick. Or maybe Benjamin Franklin. I wondered if there was a direct quote in here. I whipped open my dictionary to be sure I understood everything he was saying.

This was so much more thoughtful and personal than an email or IM. This was his way of saying we weren't getting divorced when I got back.

The time and effort he put into creating this letter was far more valuable to me than any gift he could have purchased.

And the poetry of it. He might be a nerd in the 21st Century, but in the 18th, the ladies would have been lining up for a piece of him.

"Bask in the warmth of your presence as a rose resumes its growth when revived from the chill of the night by the morning sun, and be nourished by the sound of your sweet voice."

It made me weak in the knees. If I found out he had stolen that phrase from somebody else, I would make him weak in the knees with a baseball bat. If it was his, I would do anything he asked.

My God, what would have happened if my parents had intercepted this letter?

Probably nothing. They would have thought I had a deranged stalker.

I would have to keep this letter to show to them when I told them my intentions with Jeff, if he shared them.

I would have to keep this letter to read to myself when I grew old, to relive the love of my life.

I lacked the resources to respond to this letter in the manner it deserved. Well, I lacked the resources to write him back in the appropriate style and vernacular. But I would find a way to personally respond to the writer in a manner he deserved.

For now, I contented myself with a brief email. "Thank you."

We took a weekend trip near Paris to visit friends and attend a party. I was astonished that my parents didn't ask about the smile on my face and the joy with which I approached everything we did and everyone we saw.

I hadn't taken his InTime shirt to France with me so, unfortunately, I wouldn't get to inhale his aroma until I returned to England.

It didn't matter. However much time it would be that I could not touch him or smell him or taste him, he would be there when I returned home.

When I got back to England, there was another letter waiting for me.



My Dearest Miss Fine,

The days pass in the sweltering heat of the summer, but the halls of my heart grow dank and chilly from the poverty of your presence. I have no fear that is a fatal condition, for I have basked sufficiently in the kindness of your spirit and the generosity of your heart that I will never lack for sustenance however lengthy our separation. Whatever my circumstances, I will eternally be envied by other men for the affluence I have attained from your affection.

I know the mails are an uncertain proposition at best these days; I have no expectation of receiving a response to my missives. Yet I feel, somehow, an electricity in the air that tells me they have reached you and you have not found them displeasing.

I shall for ever claim an esteem which continues to be very precious to me, and hope to be, in the future, indulged with the mutual expression of it.

As I sit here writing this, I am a canvass in grey and white, awaiting the return of your palette to make me a masterpiece ablaze with color, vibrant, a creation that cannot be experienced without transforming the viewer.

I remain,

Your humble servant,



W. J. Goldberg

I felt chills and it wasn't the flu.

Electricity in the air: email?

Had he already received my reply or had he assumed from my earlier emails that it would come? It didn't matter.

Again I replied with a two word email. "Oh, my."

This time I was sure he had taken something from the Jefferson letter. He had very carefully written, "for ever" as two separate words, lifting the pen from the paper to create the spacing.

As profound as the effect these letters were having on me, I knew they would be meaningless to my father. When he asked me about them, I simply replied, "A gift from a friend."

Assuming we went there, and I was assuming it by now even if I was having trouble believing it, when it became necessary to tell my parents I wanted to spend my life with Jeff, I thought the best time would be after we had already eloped and I was pregnant, very pregnant.

There were some parties scheduled for the upcoming weekends and I thought I would take a shot at discussing it with Jeff through email.

"Italy this wknd. Riviera nxt. Just want to stay home. Any ideas humble servant?"

To this one, Jeff replied with an IM.

"I was working on another letter, but I'm not sure I can top, 'Oh, my, ' so I think I'll retire. Ur going 2 the parties, enjoy them. If ur going 2 b thr anyway, y not have the best time u can? BTW, these abbrev are making me dizzy. I may switch back 2 English from here on in. Have I mentioned at any point that I miss you?"

He had a new handle, JekyllnHyde. I had been right: he found it endearing and not offensive.

"Miss u 2. Did u plagiarize anything in those letters?"

He sent: "I confess, even though there is little chance you would ever find it. Jefferson actually wrote, 'I shall for ever claim an esteem which continues to be very precious to me, and hope to be, at times, indulged with the mutual expression of it.' Everything else was mine. Did you like it?"

"Oh, my."



-------

Chapter 32


I had met him when I was younger, but I was again introduced to Pietro Cohen. He wasn't as pretty as me, but what a hunk.

When I might otherwise have had the inclination to swoon, what I was thinking was, "Bask in the warmth of your presence as a rose resumes its growth when revived from the chill of the night by the morning sun, and be nourished by the sound of your sweet voice."

Pete who?

Pietro was rich, charming and supremely confident. Even his posture said he could buy anything, get anything, do anything and have anyone he wanted.

His confidence was topped with just a soupçon of arrogance. I recognized it easily. It used to be me. The difference now was I was starting to think perhaps I had earned it.

He was fun to be with. He flirted, he charmed, he flat out hit on me. And he danced as well as Jeff. This time around the party circuit, I could follow.

He was so disappointed I wouldn't leave with him it nearly broke my heart.

Nah, I was just amused. Last summer I would have bestowed on him the gift of my company, not because he deserved it, but because it would have been fun and, why not.

My Father was delighted I was having such a good time. He saw a possible match. He was so seriously deluded.

When I returned to England, I reported in to Jeff. "I met Prince Charming at the ball."

"How fortunate for you, and especially for him."

"Why would I want Prince Charming when I have Beast?" I wrote.

The reply didn't come back quite so fast.

"I'm not really sure why, but I take it that is a compliment?"

Your sister thinks so. I could picture his smile as he wrote it. I had one of my own.

"Oh, my."

Jeff had nothing of particular interest to report. He was working long hours and having the time of his life doing it.

He had not been cut off completely from social contact with members of the gentler gender. He had taken his sister out to dinner a couple of times.

This was pretty unusual behavior for a brother his age, but I understood. It was Jeff. It amazed me that a single action by Jeff could simultaneously be both surprising and expected.

I had my friends and my parents had theirs.

Just like at home, though we lived under the same roof, we didn't cross paths very often.

I did cross paths with their friends' children every year. We hadn't exactly grown up together, but I had known them for some time. They had not seen a change in me prior to this summer, and probably didn't notice it now unless they were paying careful attention.

It was unlikely they were. Of what importance could it be to them?

I had seen the growing sense of entitlement, the growing ennui. It was difficult to envision these people as the leaders of tomorrow.

The final stop on the Pick-Your-Future-Husband Tour was the Riviera. It featured a different cast of characters playing the same roles.

Etienne Roth was playing the role of Pietro Cohen. He played it brilliantly. He had the money, the looks, the confidence and the presence without the arrogance Pietro had shown. It may well have been there, but his thespian skills were much more subtle.

Or perhaps he was more genuine. He was truly appealing. Why hadn't I noticed before? I probably had. But this time, I was different.

All my relationships before Jeff had been based on what they could do for me. They might get something they wanted, but there was no real reciprocation. My concept of a relationship had not included mutuality. Now that it did, I was able to look at a man differently, even though nothing about him had changed.

Etienne was charming and I could see that with all his qualities, he could be someone it would be possible and even reasonable to care about.

That was it; that was what had been missing. When the entire focus of a relationship is what he can do for me, it isn't possible to develop feelings for someone who is, essentially, a tool. Adding the concepts of what can I do for him and can I care for him, it's not clear you can have one without the other.

Nonetheless, Etienne was not someone I cared for. He was too far behind to ever catch up to Jeff.

If somehow Jeff had not been a part of my life, Etienne would have made a perfectly acceptable husband.

He would cheat on me, he was French, but I would be financially independent of my parents. I would rarely see them which suited me just fine.

I could party to my heart's content. Little would be asked or expected of me.

I would provide him children, though I would only need to be involved to the extent I supervised hiring the people who actually raised them.

I would be admired and praised in polite society. What formerly might have been acceptable now sounded revolting to me.

I danced with the older gentlemen as well. I was really getting into dancing and they had a lot of experience. I even danced with my father a few times after he noticed I seemed to like dancing. It was good to know he would be able to dance with his little girl at her wedding. He just would not be happy with my choice of the groom.

And the night ended.

We returned to England the following day and started to pack. I don't ever remember having this level of anticipation and excitement. I worked very hard to tone it down so I wouldn't attract my parents' attention.

I recall Jeff telling me Sun Tzu said when the enemy knows your plans, you will not be successful. When the enemy does not know your plans, you will be successful.

He seemed to say everything in pairs. Sun Tzu, not Jeff.

As far as my relationship with Jeff was concerned, there was no doubt in my mind my parents would be the enemy.

I probably should have spent more time with Etienne and Pietro and given them more encouragement in full view of the enemy. Maybe it wasn't too late. I could talk them up on the return trip.

I looked forward to telling Jeff about the adventures of General Fine.

The campaign started quite easily.

"Didn't I tell you you'd have a good time on this trip?"

"Yes, Dad."

"You wanted to stay home. Foolish girl."

"It was so nice to see all of our old friends." Mom wanted to tone down the foolish girl reference. "And some of those boys have grown up to be so handsome."

That, of course, would be the quality she prized most since all were of our class.

"That Etienne has grown up to be such a striking young man. And he's very successful as well," offered Dad.

I guess we had reached the point where we were all going to say stuff, but in order to understand the conversation, you need to recognize the subtext.

Etienne was twenty-two and had just graduated college. The only extent to which he was successful was the expectation that his father would move him up in the business as quickly as he could without putting the enterprise at risk due to the lack of experience or ability.

"Well, he is very good looking," I stated with reluctance. "It won't come as any surprise if he becomes a big success."

The subtext intended for my parents was that I was attracted to him, but was reluctant to admit it or pursue it because my Father had indicated an interest in him for me. The purpose was to make him think that, so he would not think there was somebody else.

This was a delightful game.

"He told me he's going to be pretty busy for the next few years. Besides, I have to finish school."

Yes, I would really be interested in pursuing him, Dad, but the timing is not right.

"You have that long winter break. I'm sure he'd be delighted to see you," Dad countered. "I do a lot of business with his father. I'm sure they would make you very welcome."

"My goodness," not the way I would have phrased it in other company, "it sounds like you're trying to set up an arranged marriage. How much is my dowry?"

"No need to get snotty."

"That Pietro Cohen is quite the looker himself and I understand from his father he is doing extremely well."

Either Mom hadn't discussed the plan with Dad, or they were offering me options.

"His father says he is an aggressive businessman," she said.

I don't know about business, but he was pretty aggressive trying to maneuver me into isolated locations and I'd had to smack his hands away several times. He seemed to think "no" was shorthand for "keep trying, I love it."

He was twenty-four and I'm sure he had been showing his father his brilliance for the last two years.

"Any other options? If you're going to marry me off, shouldn't I at least have more choices?"

My Father stopped just short of an angry tone.

"Nobody's marrying you off. You know your Mother and I only want the best for you. We're just saying how impressed we were with these young men."

That was true as long as the best for me coincided with doing what they wanted.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I'm only just about to turn twenty-one and I'm really not very experienced in these matters."

What matters? Was that sufficiently vague? Perhaps I had just suggested I was still a virgin. Could they be that gullible? Sure, if that was what they wanted to believe.

"Well, no one is going to rush you, dear. You know I married your Father when I was not much older than you are now."

Nobody is going to rush you, but time is running out. I'm living proof you haven't much time left.

This exchange of verbal legerdemain continued for a while.

My parents' points were that I was old enough to start my adult life, by which they meant marry someone who would be useful to the family either socially or economically.

These were impeccable young men and I could hardly do better in terms of looks, charm, wealth and something they left undefined.

They could certainly provide additional candidates for me to choose from, though, of course, that's not how they put it.

My position was that I didn't need some other family's money. I was studying for a career and it would be a waste not to pursue it.

Mom said it was important to have the background, but implied it was completely unnecessary to actually use it.

I told them I needed to find myself; to figure out what I really wanted from life.

They said they had taught me who I was and we fill in what we want from life in between our obligations. Children chase after what they want to be when they grow up. Adults do what they must.

I assured them I would think about all they said. I said it with such apparent sincerity I almost believed it myself.

They should have believed it; it was true. I would think about all of it. I didn't know who I was or what was important to me and I would have continued to be quite a fool not to think about it.

They were also impressed with how upbeat and cheerful I was after what they had thought would be a difficult intervention.

I'm sure they felt they had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams.

In a way they were correct. My motivations were well beyond their scariest nightmares.



-------

Chapter 33


The first night back I had dinner with Jeff. We went back to his house to spend some time alone.

The Goldbergs were very understanding, even Sandy.

I would have loved to take him back to my room, but after the pep talk about all the eligible prospects awaiting me in Europe, I thought it a trifle lacking in subtlety.

The truth was, at that point I did feel an urgency to get him into bed. But I felt the same urgency to be pressed up against him, to kiss him, to feel his cheek against mine, to feel the rise and fall of his chest as I snuggled against him on the couch.

If I only had the time for one or the other tonight, this pleased me just fine. Tomorrow, my comings and goings would be an afterthought to my parents.

I got up early to reach Jennifer before she left for work. She was going to try to arrange for me to see her working with the children. She was excited about her job and wanted to share it. I had no objection so we would see what happened.

Jeff took me to dinner at The Rose Tattoo in his new Civic Hybrid. Nothing but the best for his honey. He was now a man of means.

Our table sat by a wrought iron railing on the second floor, surrounded by hanging plants. Had we been told we were actually on a balcony in the Vieux Carré in New Orleans, we could have believed it. After dessert I broached the subject.

"I know it's not late, but a proper young lady should not be staying out on a week night. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to take me home."

My intentions were decidedly improper.

"I understand completely. I would never wish to do anything that could tarnish your reputation in the slightest way. I, myself, was thinking of returning you safely to your parents' home."

"It pleases me to know that I am with a gentleman of such upstanding moral character."

"Whenever I am with you, I cannot help but be upstanding."

I almost spit out my coffee.

"I wonder if people had more fun back in the days when sex wasn't so readily available. The teasing and the anticipation are wonderfully exciting."

The role play was fun too.

"Perhaps we should wait until we're married."

"It's not that exciting," I said.

On the way back, I took up the topic in a more serious way.

"It's good that you're so young. At your age, you can recover easily enough to make sure I'm always satisfied."

"I don't know if that's true. We may not have fully explored just how much it takes for you to be satisfied," he said.

"I wonder how important sex is. When we get out of school, we'll have work, hopefully family. How important will it be then?"

He shook his head.

"What?" I asked.

"I think everybody may have overestimated my ability to learn."

"Very mysterious. I have no idea what you're talking about," I said.

"You continue to surprise me and you shouldn't. It should have been completely obvious by now to anyone but a complete idiot how smart you are and what amazing insight you bring to so many different situations. And yet, though you continue to do it, I haven't learned to expect it."

"You're not a complete idiot."

He smiled.

"If it's any consolation, I feel the same things myself. I hear you mention some great thing I've done and wonder was that really me. I've changed so much it's a little difficult to accept."

His smile was wistful.

"You put too much pressure on yourself, Jeff. You can't know everything and do everything and be everything. That's," I searched for the right word, "hubris."

"There's that insight again."

This smile was proud. I wondered how many different smiles we had.

It was not insulting. He felt both sides of this. When I came up with something he admired, he felt it was unexpected. At the same time, he expected it. He'd have to figure that out himself just like I would.

"What were we talking about?" I asked.

"The future importance of sex."

He gave it some thought.

"How important is it now?"

That was a good approach. It would become less important later, wouldn't it? Of all the things that made up our relationship, what part -

"Scale of one to ten," he said.

I guess he thought I was taking too much time evaluating it.

"All right, I can't just give you a number on this. I need to explain it."

"Sounds like a pretty low number."

Jeff was amused, not upset.

"Importance, three. Quality, ten. It's not even like it's just sex with you. It's in a whole different category.

"But there are so many wonderful things in our relationship I value more. That first letter you sent me was one hundred twenty-seven words, not that I counted them more than a hundred times.

"Nothing could have made me feel more loved. You were an ocean away and you made me feel you in fewer words than most songs. I'm still stunned by it and any time I think about it, I get that 'Oh, my.'

"I don't have a number, but I knew how I felt. I wondered how you felt about it," I said.

"You've made it easy for me to give my answer - one. If something were to happen that prevented me from doing that with you, and I can give you a pretty long list of things that could happen, you'd still be that extraordinary person I love.

"And I agree, it's a ten and I don't want to give it up. It's one of the ways I express how much I love you, but it isn't one of the reasons," he said.

"Oh, my. Sometimes you say something succinct; that expresses an idea with complete clarity. It gives me chills."

"That's how I feel when you surprise me with things that shouldn't be surprising."

"This can't last." I sighed.

"Why not?"

"It's too intense and it's too good," I said.

Jeff responded in a matter-of-fact voice. "We're going to die. Until it becomes more imminent, we take care of our health and try to avoid dangerous situations. If we start to have problems, we work them out."

I wavered on whether to pout because he wasn't listening to me or to feel relieved because I was being silly.

Don't you hate it when you can't summon the enthusiasm to be petulant? I used to do petulance with such ease. It doesn't work if you think about what you're doing.

"Is this what people who are in relationships do? Are these, the things you learn, when you screw up the first love and move on to the next?"

"You're asking me? I don't have a clue. We can ask my mom," said Jeff.

"Outside of the fact that's not a completely idiotic idea, it sounds like a completely idiotic idea. 'Mrs. Goldberg, Sunny, are there any potential problems with Jeff doing me from behind. Oh, avoid the kitchen because we eat at that table. Thanks for the heads up.'"

When he stopped laughing, he joined in. He sounded more like Mrs. Doubtfire than Sunny.

"Well, you know dear, what you could try is using Windex on the table when you're through. But use the all-purpose Windex, not the glass cleaner."

"My God, you actually know something about cleaning up. You may not be a man's man, but you sure are a woman's man."

"Again, I'm not clear. Compliment or insult?"

"Compliment, Mr. Bill."

I thought about my conversation with Sandy. Was this the right time to start talking about that? Was there a right time?

"If I," deep breath, "let myself go, bring down all the barriers and, wind up completely in love with, completely trusting, expecting you to always do the right thing, what do I do if something goes wrong? How do I ever recover from that? How can I risk it?"

"Boy, you went from laughter to the edge of tears in a trice, whatever that is."

He damn well knew what it was.

"You handle it the best you can. You're going to screw up. I'm going to screw up. We both have to trust and remember that's not what the other person intended. We have to trust that we never intended to cause any pain and that's the last thing we would want to do.

"You have to trust yourself as well, because it can be harder to accept forgiveness than to give it."

"Where did you learn that? It sounds like you understand it from having screwed up big time."

"Not big time. But when I've disappointed my family, I take it much harder than they do.

Then, after a moment he said, "And, of course, I've read about it."

"Like reading about being a jockey."

"Like reading about being a jockey. I've thought about it and I think I'm logical enough to be able to handle problems."

"And me?"

"I worry about you a little. You have a completely different experience. You're used to things going pretty much the way you planned them."

He was having a lot of trouble finishing off the thought. No problem. I wasn't going to let him.

"I don't know whether to be furious or just shake my head and laugh at the idiot coming out. You're the big, strong man. Don't worry, you can take it. But you have to protect the weaker sex.

"What a crock of shit! I turned you down for a date and you didn't go out for over three years. Yeah, you'll handle it just fine. Thank God I have you to protect me from life."

Apparently I did know. It was pure vitriol.

I saw a tear slide down his cheek. He tried to hide a gulp and take a deep breath, but neither effort was successful. He didn't break down. He didn't say anything for quite some time, focusing his efforts on getting himself under control.

Was I too harsh? I had to be harsh. Did I have to be that harsh? He was hurt, and as angry as I was, and as important as this was, that was killing me.

"Pull over."

"It's okay. I didn't think it out thoroughly," he said.

"Please, pull over and park."

He sighed and pulled over. I spoke very quietly.

"I'm sorry for the way I said it. It needed to be said. I just wish I hadn't been angry enough to come across so angry."

I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed the path of the tear.

"It's so painful to me to see that I can make you feel so terrible. You have no idea."

"Is this where I start yelling that it's condescending to think that only you can suffer from the pain you give someone else? Sorry, not funny, not helpful, not called for. How do people do it? This is such a daunting burden. I'm, not getting this at all. Why is it so hard?"

I had just the thing to pull him out his morass of self pity.

"Because there's no book to tell you how to do it."

He laughed, we hugged and the worst was over. Actually, it brightened my mood considerably.

"You're flawed," I told him.

"You seem awfully pleased with that knowledge."

"I am," I said. "Very. You have no idea what it's like to be with someone who seems perfect.

"You finish four years of damn college in a year and you barely break a sweat.

"You get the best paying job out of college I ever heard of without even looking for it. Companies are fighting over you.

"You know almost everything. You understand almost everything. It's damn intimidating.

"But now I know you don't always think everything out. You can screw up. It's so liberating. I can make a mistake. I can afford to mess up. It's fantastic."

"I never -"

"No, I did. But it doesn't matter."

"So do we get to have our first make-up sex now?" he asked.

"No. We didn't have a fight. We just blew up briefly and intensely and realized that we love and respect each other."

"Are we ever going to fight?" he asked.

"I thought sex was a one?"

"Importance is a one. Quality is a ten."

"Ah. Then we don't need it to be make-up."

I can be logical too.

"No. How do other people do it? Are we having trouble with this because we have no experience?" he asked.

"I think so. I think you screw the first one up the worst and each one after that gets easier. You just have more margin for error with the first because it's so new and so intense there's a special feeling that makes you want to stick until you get it right."

"How do you know this?"

"I don't know. I just do. I think it's like the way you look at some mathematical concept and intuitively understand it. It sure isn't because I have any experience."

"I'm a lucky guy," said Jeff.

"Never stop saying that."

"I won't."

We had survived, no thrived after our first significant problem. It was reflected in my bed.

It wasn't the intense, gotta-do-it-right-away love making. It wasn't the multi-course-meal love making feast. It was I think we can do this; I think we can make this last until we die.

If you haven't done it, I'm not sure you can understand the feeling. But we did.



-------

Chapter 34


Jennifer was still trying to arrange for me to visit her class, but wasn't getting much cooperation so I decided to use my business skills.

My family contributed lots to money to all kinds of things so we were known in the community. I called the Mayor's office.

He referred me to the Superintendent of Schools.

I called and told him I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life, but I wanted to explore teaching. I may have stretched the truth just a bit beyond recognition.

I told him about Jennifer's efforts and how much I would like to be able to view teaching from her enthusiastic eyes.

He gave me the go ahead and told me to give his regards to my parents. I didn't mention that he might see them before I did

So, armed with his blessing and his Letters Plenipotentiary, I arranged to spend an unspecified amount of time with her and her class.

There was a bit of a roadblock I had to negotiate first. The director of the project, Elaine Hickman, had visions of additional funding from the Fine family and insisted on showing me around.

She took me into a seventh grade class and the problem was immediately obvious.

The boys didn't even hear the sound of my voice. The girls weren't much better. I don't even recall what I tried to speak to them about, but all I got in return were obsequious noises not much better than gibberish.

I gave Mrs. Hickman a story about suddenly feeling ill and arranged to return the next day, health permitting.

I needed to find a way to downplay my looks, no easy task. I had the disadvantage that I didn't wear much makeup so I couldn't just go without. I also needed something to hide my sensational body.

My clothing collection is so large it's obscene for one person to have that much. I had more clothes in my wardrobe that I never wore than most women ever own. I owned clothing for every occasion. I was sure that if I needed it, I could find clothing appropriate for the first landing of aliens on earth in one of my walk-in closets.

For this occasion I located a straight blue skirt ending below my knees and a matching blue blazer which gave no hint of any curves. Under it I wore a pointlessly ruffled white blouse. It looked out of place beneath the stern blazer.

I considered granny heels but they would have made my efforts too obvious. I tried on quite a few pairs until I was satisfied with how little flats did for my legs.

I overdid the makeup. I put on rouge until it was pretty obvious that couldn't possibly be my natural coloring. I went overboard with eye shadow, though that tawdry display fell far short of the clownish makeup of Mimi on the Drew Carey Show.

I considered putting on additional layers to appear a bit chunky, but when I looked in the mirror I decided this was as bad as I ever wanted to look.

I let myself into Jen's room without an escort. She turned to me and said, "Can I help you?"

I knew I didn't look good, but I didn't think I was wearing a disguise. I walked towards her. "Jen, I'm here to observe your class."

"Oh, my God, Ashley." She was so stunned she couldn't think of anything further to say.

"Where should I sit?" I asked her.

"I'm sorry. Here, sit at this desk in the corner. I didn't recognize you."

"How could you?" I asked as I took my seat.

I was able to observe the children in their natural habitat. It wasn't pretty. Had we been like this just a few short years ago? Yuk.

It wasn't that they were rowdy or unmanageable, though they were that some of the time. It was the way they had set up their own caste system, without any guidelines to follow.

At the top, they were beautiful, a jock or wealthy, though the categories could overlap. Below them were ordinary looking people who could look nice when they cleaned up. This was the largest group.

Further down were the nerds. It wasn't a strict category. You could attain membership just by looking or dressing a little strange. At the bottom were the losers and freaks.

Anyone below the favored caste could attain temporary status if they had something to offer, even the losers. Perhaps one of them had a location for a party. He would be invited to the party, maybe at his house, and be treated well until the party was over. Then he reverted to loser.

Character, loyalty, intelligence and empathy were factors which didn't count at all in their social structure. We had been like this. Why is it so easy not to see when you're the one doing it?

I had been successful disguising my looks. While they all treated Jen with reverence, they avoided me like a bag lady. She was gorgeous, mature and ran with a crowd they aspired to. I was inconsequential.

This was the breeding grounds that led to Columbine. Sure, it was important to improve their reading skills. But who was going to teach them to be human beings?

If I'd ever had this kind of rumination in the past I'm sure I handled it with a simple, "Let's party." This was further confirmation, as if I needed it, that I had changed.

"What's with the look?" asked Jen when we sat down for lunch.

"Have you noticed the way your kids fawn over you?"

"Yeah," she said with some disappointment.

"I was actually here yesterday with the director. I met another class. Fawning would have been an improvement. It was like I was a freakin' pop star."

"Did you have to go this far?" she asked.

"I didn't know what it would take. You can rest easy. I don't think I'll be using this look again."

"Did Jeff like it?"

"He may see my hair in curlers, my face covered with cream and my pregnant belly out to who knows where, but he won't see me like this."

"Too bad I don't have my camera handy," said Jen, probably forgetting her phone.

"You'd be risking your life taking that picture."

"So how is Jeff? Is that still going well?"

"Jeff is fabulous in every way," I said.

I'm not sure I said it so much as gushed it.

"You should double with us," I said.

"I don't have anybody to take at the moment."

"I'll see if Jeff can find somebody from work."

"You've obviously changed, I've gotta say way for the better, but has Jeff changed that much? The idea of Jeff setting someone up for a blind date seems, well, kind of silly."

"Well, I can't guarantee it," I said. "But I'm sure he's met a bunch of guys at work this summer. I'll see what he can come up with."

"This could be quite an adventure."

Funny, I didn't even think to set her up with someone I knew, one of the kind of guys I used to date. I wanted more for her.

The afternoon session gave me a much better idea of what could be accomplished by a program like this.

Jen didn't ask them things like what is the symbolism and how are all the instances tied together to produce a symbolic framework in some book they'd read. That was the kind of stuff that made me nauseous when I had to go to English.

She asked if they liked it or not, and why. She asked which characters they liked and why. She asked which characters they'd like to see "get it" and why.

She asked if they reminded them of characters they'd met in other books they had read or people they knew. And they didn't have to answer the questions if they didn't want to.

"The point is to have fun reading," Jen said. "And while you're having fun, you'll learn something.

"You may learn how brave you had to be to move from the east across the prairie in a covered wagon.

"You may learn something about yourself, why you do things or what's important to you. You may learn those kinds of things about other people as well. You're not reading to learn those things. They come along as a bonus.

"Read. Have fun. Your life will get better."

That last statement brought groans. But they did participate in the discussion. I think it was, in part, because she didn't require them to. They could answer, or not. They could wander off topic and ask questions of their own.

Someone raised the issue of authors writing to make things hard to understand. He was asked to clarify.

"Like that Shakespeare they're gonna make us read when we get back. He's always writing shit that doesn't mean what it sounds like."

There was a general murmur of agreement.

"Alright, let's take a look at that," said Jen. "I'll use a quote from Romeo and Juliet you've probably all heard. 'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.' What does it mean?

"First, I want to hear from people who haven't read it, and especially haven't read a study guide."

The boy who had started it, raised his hand and Jen nodded.

"It means it don't matter what you call it. You call it a truck, it's still a rose."

Jen scrunched up her face. "Yes, but you wanted to talk about something not meaning what it sounded like. They're really not talking about a rose. Jesus."

"Just because I'm Latino, doesn't mean I can't do as good a job as an Anglo. You judge on the work. They always say they have other applications they need to go over and they'll get back to me. Unless it's just labor."

"Yes. That's another way to see it," said Jen.

"I'll go you one better," I jumped in. "Next time somebody tells you he has to look at other applications, you say 'That's cool. I think you'll find I can do at least as good a job as any of them. A rose by any other name.'

"He'll be thinking about you when he looks at those other applications, if they exist." I couldn't suppress my enthusiasm. The class seemed to agree with my concept.

"How about someone who has read the play?" asked Jen.

A boy who could have been dressed by Jeff's mom looked around and decided to join in.

"It actually does refer to a name. I think the line before it is, 'What's in a name?' The two families are feuding and her family would be against him just because of his last name.

"But, of course, it's really about all kinds of judgments and assumptions that label people in some way without really knowing what they're like. Like you, Melissa."

He gestured to a girl wearing all black, with black eye shadow and black lipstick and black nail polish.

"All people see is Goth. They don't know a thing about you but you're going to scare them."

"Thanks," she said, her face twisting into kind of a sneer. She was less than thrilled to be used as an example.

But it really got the kids into the discussion. They made fun of each other, but it was in a light, joking atmosphere; not the way they would ordinarily put each other down.

For the duration of the discussion and for some period after, good will seemed to reign. They would be back to their usual behavior tomorrow, but maybe this was a first step for some of them.

They talked about other lines from a book or a movie and what they thought it meant. There was learning going on and they were having fun.

And while that was going on, I was thinking that I might not want to remain a business major.

There was a bell at 3:00 and most of the kids left. A few hung around to talk with Jen. When the last of them departed she came over to me.

"Oh, my God, did you see that? For a while there they forgot about who they were and why they didn't like each other and just talked about something that interested them.

"A few weeks ago they were all saying they had to come because their parents forced them. But they wanted to be here for this discussion."

I had never seen this level of enthusiasm from Jen. She was so juiced there was no opportunity to break in.

"And they came up to talk after class. I've never had a single kid stay after class before. That was amazing!"

Eventually, she burned herself out.

"That was amazing," I told her. "Who knows, perhaps it was life altering."

She gave me a strange look.

I nodded meaningfully.

"So, lets' go out together on Friday. We can double date."

"What if Jeff can't find anyone?"

"We'll have a threesome."

She gave me a shocked look.

"Just kidding. I'm sure Jeff will find somebody suitable at work. They're real adults."

"Ah."



-------

Chapter 35


Jeff set Jen up with his cousin Richard. We went to Vinnie T's on Lancaster Avenue. Jeff could absolutely afford a champagne budget, but he seemed to have beer tastes, even though he wasn't old enough to legally purchase beer, and I had never seen him drink it.

"You really know how to impress a girl," I said.

"This place is just a habit from my impoverished days as a young," he searched the right word, then shrugged, "nerd. The real reason is I know from experience that you can hear each other talk here, even when it's crowded."

"I should have realized my guy thinks everything out," I said.

He looked me directly in the eyes.

"Not everything, but I try."

"Richard, do you work with Jeff?" asked Jen.

"No, I work at a brokerage house," he answered.

"Yet he is a certified adult," added Jeff. "I had trouble finding one at work."

"I would have thought they were all adults," said Jen.

"The youngest guy I work with is thirty-two, fourteen years older than I am. My first few days many of them were calling me 'kid' and patronizing me. Now, some of them call me Mr. Goldberg. It's kind of creepy even if it is somehow respectful.

"But I know you, Jen, and I know Rich, and I thought you might hit it off. So, here we are."

"Do you prefer Rich?" Jen asked him.

"I really don't have a preference. But Jeff always heard me called Richard at family gatherings, so that's the name he gave you." He looked at Jeff. "Yes?"

Jeff nodded.

"Jeff's the scientist in the family. I'm just in finance. I'm not as smart as Jeff."

Jeff looked up with his eyes and shook his head.

"Of course, neither is anybody else," Rich added with a chuckle.

Jeff grunted.

"Jeff's mentioned Ashley a time or two, but he hasn't said anything about this other gorgeous woman," Rich said, looking directly at Jen.

Jen smiled. It was a little corny, but you really can't go wrong complimenting a woman.

Of course, he spent a lot of time looking at me as well; Remedios the Beauty. He could look away, but he could not help looking back. Fortunately for him, Jen had lots of experience with this.

The four of us developed a good rapport. It's often a mistake double dating on a first date. You really can't give the other person your undivided attention. But doubling often eases the awkwardness of not having any idea whether you'll have something to talk about or whether you'll be able to talk comfortably after the introductions.

I could tell Rich had nerd leanings, but he had been out in the business world long enough to develop some polish. Could I expect that of Jeff? Probably not.

Jeff wasn't really in the business world and pretty much marched to his own drummer. More important, he didn't care. You can't change if you don't want to.

Rich was twenty-six, had an MBA and was pretty good looking. His body had good definition and he was around five inches taller than Jen, which meant she would not be limited in her selection of shoes.

I know. I know there are more important things than appearance, but there's nothing unpleasant about it either. He had dark hair, a nice smile and a delightful sense of humor. Jen obviously found the entire package appealing.

He was quickly becoming enthralled with Jen. While he avoided desperation, I could tell her combination of beauty and intelligence was beyond anything he had previously considered possible for himself and that is very appealing to a woman.

They confirmed my impressions of the match by taking their leave of us to go somewhere on their own.

Maybe doubling is perfect for a first date. You use the safety of mutual friends until you feel comfortable enough to blow them off.

"He's nice and kind of good looking too," I said.

"What more could you ask for in a man?"

His voice had just the slightest edge. It annoyed me.

I thought about it and tried to resist getting angry, but I wasn't up to the task.

"Look how far I've come. Look at how much I've changed. I pick out two lousy compliments from all the things I could have said about him and all of a sudden you're bitching at me."

He laughed. He was sure I must be joking.

I knew I was overreacting, but his laughter just upped the ante for me.

"I'm the only one doing any changing around here. You're the same freak you were when I met you."

Oh, shit! Did I really say that? I did all the changing because I was the one who needed changing. I was so much happier this way than I'd ever been.

All it had taken in the beginning were some small changes in attitude to realize how terrific he was. I didn't want him to change anything.

But this had a momentum of its own; I couldn't back down now.

"Take me home."

My voice was tinged with venom. I started toward his car.

I noticed only the slightest twitch of his face. But his eyes were moist. I had gotten to him. Was this a glorious triumph or a shameful defeat?

He took a deep breath; one of those where the diaphragm is involved and the abdomen puffs out. He had regained control. He refused to fight.

My house was minutes away. We drove in silence.

He pulled into our driveway in front of the house.

I opened the car door and said, "Thank you for dinner." But it sounded like, "I wish I had never met you."

I slammed the door and flounced into the house. Fifteen or twenty seconds later he put the car in gear and drove off.

He had given the situation some thought and decided not to make a childish display of anger by peeling out of the driveway. He probably wasn't angry, just confused.

He should have been angry. My behavior had been outrageous, but I hadn't been able to control myself.

I ran up to my room, slammed the door shut, fell on the bed and began to sob. It was long and deep and satisfying.

It was just after midnight when I finished. I was in a state where I could start to figure out why the hell I had acted that way.

Was this like a midlife crisis? I didn't doubt my attractiveness, but maybe I doubted the relationship. Jen and Rich were at the very beginning of their relationship, filled with hope and limitless promise. If it grew, they would devote their attention to each other.

Couples who had been together for, wait a second, we'd known each other less than nine months. How could Jeff be paying less attention to me this quickly? He wasn't.

We were little more than a month removed from the letters he mailed me. How many guys have the imagination to think of something like that, let alone the ability to do it so well, let alone the confidence to do it without feeling self-conscious?

He wasn't becoming complacent; he was ratcheting up his game. Rich might turn out to be a fabulous match for Jen. But, in Jeff, I had hit the freaking lottery.

But, he had openly insulted me. Well, it wasn't exactly open. Nobody else witnessed it.

What more could you ask for in a man? It wasn't what he said; it was how he said it. What the hell does that mean? What am I reading into a tone I perceived? That he doesn't respect my ideas or my choices? He tells me all the time he does and the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable.

What was I angry about? Now I was getting angry that I didn't have a clue what I was angry about.

Maybe I still didn't believe I was good enough for him. Then he insults my shallow thinking and that confirms I don't deserve him. But why would that make me angry with him?

Because he's led me to hope, to believe I am good enough for him when I'm really not and all my dreams are going to be crushed.

But he really does believe it and it's his belief that will prevent him from having any thought of dumping me.

I had no damn idea. Where is your therapist when you need her?

Shit! How do I fix this? I treated him horribly; hurt his feelings over nothing. How do I apologize? How do I explain?

Then I drew on my experience and I knew what to do - nothing. It didn't really happen. I did not mistreat him. Oh, is that how you took it? I was tired and irritable and, the coup de grace, it's that time of the month.

No, I should avoid that last one. If I have that pattern of behavior, and I have no idea if I do, he will have noticed it and supplied the excuse for me.

It was just a misunderstanding. We don't need to say another word about it. Will that work with Jeff?

It would certainly work with any other man I've ever met. They would be too scared to challenge me on it. Eventually they would believe it was their idea. Why do I have to be with the one guy who might call me on it?

Because he's the one guy who might call me on it and everything that goes along with being that one guy.

Still, that's the best plan I could think of and I was going with it.

When I pick him up for the party tonight, he's my honey, just like he was before I allegedly went berserk.



-------

Chapter 36


I did some advance work for my plan. I called his house when I was pretty sure he wouldn't be in. I spoke to Sunny and asked her to tell Jeff I would be by for him around 7:30, maybe a few minutes later.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. "You sound a little funny."

"No, everything's great." In that moment I learned a key lesson about lying.

I had practiced lying all my life and I considered myself quite good at it. Pick the emotion, the stress level, the sincerity you want to portray, feel them, then tell the lie.

But it was very difficult to lie to Sunny. I instinctively understood the reason: I cared what she thought about me. I didn't want being caught in a lie to lower her opinion. That created real stress as it tapped my conscience.

In the past, I didn't care at all what the other person thought of me. I had a position I wanted to get to and if lying did the job, great. If I was caught in a lie, oh yeah, I remember now, and make up a better one. Caring could really gum up the works. Just another danger to face in my brave new world.

I tried to cover up and Sunny graciously pretended to believe me, though I had no such illusions.

At 7:30 on the dot I pulled up in front of the Goldberg house, projecting cheer and confidence.

Jeff came out of the house and I was shocked into silence for a moment before I started a belly laugh. It kept expanding until there were tears streaming down my cheeks. It took me a good two minutes to get myself under control. I motioned him to go inside.

He had on a white golf shirt like his InTime shirt, with no logo. The collar was turned up for God's sake.

His brand new jeans were pre-faded and carefully pre-torn. To get a pair of normally-colored jeans this faded he would have had to buy them before his bar mitzvah.

He finished off the look with a pair of tan, Steve Madden flip flops with an almost squared-off toe. All he needed was an imported beer in his hand.

"What the hell are you wearing?" I asked him.

He didn't immediately respond. Sunny appeared from the direction of the living room.

"Sunny, how could you let him out of the house dressed like this?"

"I tried to tell him," she said.

"Jeff, what were you thinking?" I asked.

"Well, we had this party tonight with your friends, and you always roll your eyes at what I wear. So, I decided to get something cool. I went to the Izod store.

How do I put this nicely?

"Jeff, you're not cool like other guys. No matter how you dress, nobody's ever going to mistake you for a hip, cool dude.

"You're cool like Jeff. Nobody else is like Jeff. You know who you are and what's important and you're fine with that. That is cool.

"Other guys see a standard of what's hot now, in terms of clothes, music, language, whatever, and they conform skillfully. They're seen as cool. And in that sense, they are cool.

"You're cool just being you. You don't care what anybody thinks, except for today." I started waving my hands around, I guess expressing my confusion. "You've got to explain to me what this is. I have no idea. Why did you do this?"

My hands kept going the entire time.

"Well, last night you got me to thinking. You are the one doing all the changing and I thought I could try to make an effort to -"

"Stop right there. I went temporarily insane last night. You did nothing wrong. You've done nothing wrong. I just lost my mind and decided the sun is made of pickled herring."

I have no idea where that metaphor came from, but even more surprising, it was met with instant understanding; not a blip.

I had been speaking in a somewhat agitated voice because this caught me by surprise and I was embarrassed about my behavior the previous night. My tone became calm.

"Jeff, you haven't changed anything because there isn't anything important you have to change. You're Jeff. You're cool. That's it."

In the brief silence that followed, Sunny moved close to me and brushed the back of her fingers down my cheek. I waited for Jeff's response.

He tilted his head and gave us a sheepish grin.

"I was kind of confused."

"No kidding," I said. "If a street person walks up to you and shouts, 'The moon toppled the wall because the sidewalk was hungry, ' are you a little confused? Well, a crazy person came up to you last night and said something like that."

"So, you don't think I look good in this?" He gestured toward himself with his hands.

A snort escaped before I could start to answer.

"You can put lipstick on a pig, but it's still a pig."

"Strangely, I don't feel at all insulted by that," he said.

"And that's why you're so cool," I paused, "except when you try to be cool."

I opened my arms and we hugged each other.

"Thank God you didn't get your hair cut," I said.

"I have an appointment tomorrow."

"Cancel it. Now let's get you dressed for this party."

And that was it. I'd gone berserk, hurt him, shook him up, I acknowledged it, apologized and it was over.

He gave me a funny look for a few seconds on the way up to his room. Then his face relaxed. He never said another word about it.

I had a decent selection in his room, I had been working with him, but when I smelled it, I picked out the purple InTime golf shirt. He was always comfortable wearing it and it smelled so Jeff it almost made me dizzy.

I gave him sneakers, socks and a boring pair of no-name jeans he'd gotten at Marshalls. He could have gotten something with more panache at the Salvation Army. But he didn't need to - he was Jeff.

It was a nice party. All the right people were there. There were some riff raff, like Jeff, but the overall level of quality was sufficient for my parents to approve.

I invited Jen, who brought Rich. I didn't get to talk with her much, but things were moving pretty fast for them.

We needed little reason to have a party, especially in the summer, but this one was nominally in honor of my upcoming twenty-first birthday. A small group, mostly girls, was organizing a trip to a bar to get me legally blotto. Jen signed up with enthusiasm. Rich was not included in the deal.

Jeff caught wind of the plans and was a bit put off.

"I can vote. I can be killed in the armed forces without my consent to serve. I can graduate college and get a job that pays me a higher salary than the President. But I can't sit in a bar with you to be your designated driver because I'm not legally a responsible adult. It's absurd."

"If the law of gravity were absurd, would that make it any less enforceable?" I asked.

Jeff rolled his eyes and said, "Damn."

It was a gesture of respect.

"You know," I said, "not only are you under twenty-one, you're not even nineteen yet."

He took my mocking him awfully well. He drew me into his arms and gave me a really hot kiss. It was hot enough and long enough that when he released me I heard someone say, "Holy shit." That's how I felt about it as well.

"What was that for?" I asked.

"You constantly surprise and delight me to the point where I just can't help myself; I have to kiss you. It's like thirst - I have to slake my need to hold you and kiss you."

After that response, I needed some slaking myself. I pulled him to me and gave him one of those kisses he said I expected to enjoy. When I released him, he pulled me back in and returned the favor.

"Are you guys aware you're in public?" asked Jen.

I thought about the question. This wasn't like Jeff. He wasn't against a public display of affection, but he was usually reluctant to get too involved.

Whatever his reason, it was a good thing. If he was so carried away he didn't even remember we were in public that was a very good thing.

If he no longer cared about being in public because the need overcame his reticence, that too was a very good thing. The kissing wasn't anything to sneer at either.

Jeff enjoyed the party like I had never seen before. He was relaxed, comfortable. He joked with people. He moved from group to group.

From what he had told me, the few parties he went to in high school were pretty painful for him. After the little incident where I dismissed him so callously, his confidence was severely shaken. He could jump in with no problem when people were talking about something meaningful like a debate or even a discussion. But one-on-one small talk froze him like a deer in the headlights.

Not so tonight. He moved between people and groups with apparent ease. If he made a connection, he stayed and talked. If not, he moved on. He was like a different person. I'd never seen this before.

My curiosity demanded an explanation.

"I realized I could talk to someone or not. But mostly, we're celebrating your birthday and that put me on such a high, I couldn't help but have a good time."

"Oh, my."

What else could I say?



-------

Chapter 37


Just like Jeff I am a very smart person.

Alright, not just like Jeff, but I am very smart. But just like Jeff that doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to think things through before I say them or rely on them.

Jeff kept pressing to join my birthday drinking celebration. I kept refusing. I was driven by emotion. He limited his arguments to logic.

"I recall hearing on the news that something like fourteen hundred college-age kids die each year due to alcohol. If you need the citation, I can Google it.

"Some die directly from alcohol poisoning. They flat out drink so much it kills them. I know you won't do that. The rest die from accidents, primarily vehicle accidents.

"You don't have a designated driver. Everybody with you is probably going to drink too much to drive safely. I just want to be there to drive."

"You're just being controlling. You're around me all the time. You don't even give me a chance to breathe. I've always been an independent person but you seem to want to take that away from me."

I threw that together on the spur of the moment because I just wanted a night out with my friends, my older-than-Jeff friends. I probably should have tried that but it didn't seem equal to the weight of trying to control me.

"Would you like to change your, argument, before I get my opportunity? I'm giving you a freebie here," said Jeff.

"See. This is so typical. It's completely patronizing."

I was ready to make it worse, but Jeff jumped in.

"I'm around you all the time? I work five days out of the seven. My hours are long enough that I rarely get to see you before seven, usually later.

"Rather that rent a summer place, which either of us could easily afford, you live at your parents' house so we don't see each other late at night.

"I still do some family stuff on weekends, and we invite you because all of us think of you as family.

"You've been home a little over a week from a one-month vacation where I didn't see you at all. You got angry on Friday so we saw each other less than three hours.

"I'm not complaining about that time we haven't spent together. It's been entirely appropriate. But explain to me how the few hours we've spent together this week amount to smothering you. And when you finish that, please recall for me a single instance where my behavior impinged upon your independence."

Firm and to the point. Not angry, but not disengaged either.

Impinged? Humans might have said "intruded on" or "took away" or even "made you less independent."

As to the first part, that has to be the stupidest argument I ever made in my life. To characterize seeing me every night I wanted him to see me as controlling was, well, embarrassingly absurd.

As to the second part, I couldn't think of a single thing he'd done either. I had to make a decision immediately.

Did I look thoughtful or angry? If I looked thoughtful it was because I was thinking about the way to best articulate my counterargument.

The problem with that was I couldn't wait until one of us died to avoid answering. If I was angry, it must be because his arguments are so irrelevant I won't dignify them with a response.

Wait, there was a much better solution. I'm a woman. The Official Rules of Engagement for arguments between the sexes clearly state that I can ignore any statement he makes without even giving a reason, as long as I supply another issue, relevant or not.

"This is a rite of passage. When you reach the age of twenty-one, you can go out drinking with your peers who have also reached the legal drinking age to celebrate the birthday and the fact that you can legally drink.

"Not to mention it would be illegal for you to come with us."

A stellar performance, if I do say so myself.

"I'm not asking to tag along. I wouldn't want to demean the sacred rite of passage. I just want to drive you home so nobody gets hurt."

"Poor little Ashley can't take care of herself," I said. "She has to have her boyfriend chase after her to make sure she doesn't meet any bad men."

I was impressed that my voice didn't show how embarrassed I was at the mocking tone I used for "boyfriend" and the use of "bad men" instead of "get hurt."

It wasn't fair, but the Rules allowed it.

They may have allowed it, but Jeff didn't care much for that. He shook his head in annoyance. But he hadn't won the argument.

We settled into an uneasy truce. It didn't include spending a lot of time with each other for the remainder of the party.

We went back to my house after the party and I took his hand to lead him up to my bedroom for sex. I didn't expect it to be making love.

Jeff didn't expect it to happen at all.

"I can't. I'm exhausted. I can't think about an erection let alone get one."

"I'm sure I can change your mind." I could certainly play the coquette.

I reached toward his crotch.

He grabbed my hand.

"Do you plan to force me?"

"Oh, you find it so distasteful to have sex with me?" I was furious.

"At the moment."

"Well, I'm sure there are lots of guys who would be thrilled to."

"As you wish." He said it quietly, without inflection.

"I'll take you home," I said.

All my anger was gone. He was quoting Wesley from The Princess Bride.

I had not crossed a line. I had gone so far past the line I no longer had any idea if there was a line.

I was too embarrassed to apologize. If I had been less embarrassed I would have been able to. But "sorry" wouldn't excuse my disgraceful behavior.

We didn't say a word on the drive to his house.

"Thank you," he said when he got out of the car.

I didn't answer.

I moped around the house on Sunday. I didn't call him.

He didn't call me.

It got so bad I considered talking to one of my parents, God forbid. If this was winning the argument, I wasn't sure I wanted to win any more.

Monday: no contact.

I shouldn't have been surprised. When I demanded he give me that first kiss so I could evaluate his skill, he had turned and walked away.

Each time I did something completely unreasonable he turned and walked away.

And each time, I had to ask him to excuse my behavior.

Shouldn't he cut me more slack given the wonderful relationship we were in? I could answer that one for him.

"So you're saying that because we love each other, I should be willing to put up with any misbehavior you choose?" he would ask.

"And the better our relationship, the more you should be allowed to take advantage of me? I thought you're supposed to think about how it affects the other person before you do something."

He'd have lots more to say. And he would be right.

I could hold out until Thursday. Then I would be very contrite and it would all blow over.

Why was I really so resistant to his offer of help?

Fear?

Exhaustion?

The end of infatuation and the start of the hard work of maintaining a relationship?



-------

Chapter 38


Jen parked in my drive at 7:30.

She started to gush about Rich. He was really interested in what she had to say. She could tell the difference.

Sure, guys know they're supposed to appear fascinated. He'd also learned to do that for his business.

But there is just so long you can take it without a flicker, a dart of the eyes, a movement of the mouth that gives you away. He hadn't done any of that. His follow-up questions proved she had his attention.

That was quite a bit for her to fit in before the other five girls finished wandering in. The last one arrived just before eight. We decided to take two cars so we wouldn't be too crowded but would not require a bunch of parking spaces.

It being hump day, it was possible to locate a decent-sized bar with a live band, or maybe it was a small club, I don't know.

"Barkeep," said Jen, "beers all around."

"What kind?" he asked.

We all laughed and we hadn't even started to drink.

"Sorry, just kidding," said Jen, and we proceeded to give the hunk our separate orders.

On a night when a band is playing, the bars try to bring in their most beautiful people to tend bar. It isn't enough to provide the excitement of a band, they want to create as much traffic as possible to create the illusion of a place everybody wants to go. They want it to be so crowded they can't fit in everyone who comes out to be there as manifested by a long line outside.

Being served by attractive, flirtatious people gives the patrons an additional incentive to bring their business.

It was crowded but there were three guys who were chivalrous enough to share their fairly large table. It might have been hope rather than chivalry.

One by one the girls were asked to dance and accepted if they felt the guy was suitable.

I was getting looks but most of them were too afraid to approach me; Remedios the Beauty.

Finally an athletic, good-looking guy either worked up the nerve or drank enough to enable him to try. He looked kind of interesting.

"If I said you had a beautiful body..."

"I'd say, 'I'll be stone-cold dead before you get any closer than you are now.'

"And let me tell you, I appreciate all the thought you put into such a creative approach."

A guy at the next table said, "Ouch."

I turned to him and asked, "And your approach is?"

I waited fifteen to twenty seconds before I said, "Oh, I see. That was it."

Let's see, Bask in the warmth of your presence as a rose resumes its growth when revived from the chill of the night by the morning sun, and be nourished by the sound of your sweet voice,  versus if I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me.

I know it came from a country song, but it probably came from countless, nameless bars before that, well before I was in diapers. It was hard to find a place to even start to make a comparison between Jeff and everybody else.

I finished my drink and went to the bar to order another.

Was that why Jeff was so anxious to join me tonight? Was he afraid I'd meet someone? Silly boy. When comparing Jeff to all other available men, well, there really wasn't any way to make a comparison. Jeff was one of a kind. So why was I getting so annoyed with him lately?

A few of the girls returned and toasted to my birthday. We all got refills. They also got refills on dancing partners.

I started to look around for someone to dance with myself. I couldn't decide what flavor I preferred tonight: a cocky guy I could cut down to size or a quietly confident guy that didn't require as much work.

I wasn't able to identify any of the second type - they're much more rare - so I picked out a tall, solidly built, handsome guy whose body language said he was God's gift to the fairer sex.

I got up and walked over to him.

I stopped, looked him in the eyes and said, "Let's dance."

Then I walked to the dance floor fully trusting that he would follow.

He did after pausing to get over his surprise.

He was a good dancer and I guess he was gaining confidence the longer I danced with him.

By the third fast song I was shaking it pretty good. He put his hands on my waist and spun me around. He pulled me close and started grinding against my butt. It was pretty big.

"Oh, yeah, grind it bitch," he said in a loud voice. "How do you like that weapon?"

Weapon? What has he been watching?

"Turn me around. I want to feel it."

He spun me around.

I reached down and grabbed his nuts in a vise grip.

"You're lucky," I said.

I squeezed just a bit harder.

"I don't usually wait for a second 'bitch' before I cut them off."

He was up on his tiptoes as if that would somehow let him escape. His face seemed to shrink as his grimace tightened.

I stepped on his foot and started to put my weight on it. Hey, I could have just stomped.

"No girl deserves to be treated like this," I said.

I gave an extra little squeeze and released him. He sank to the floor.

"Thanks for the dance," I said as I walked back to our table.

The nice little buzz I had was gone from the adrenaline. I would have to start over.

"Is that some new kind of dance?" asked Jen.

The other girls giggled. I guess my actions had not been subtle. Good. Maybe the lesson would survive tonight.

"I may hold classes," I said.

I'd never thought about it because I always came with a man, but being unapproachably beautiful has its downside too - you don't get approached.

After another round the girls started to bring back someone sent for me by their partners.

"A girl should get to dance with somebody on her birthday," said Barb.

Lovely. I was being treated like the ugly girl.

But I didn't refuse. A girl should get to dance with somebody on her birthday.

I had fun. I got drunk. I think the other girls did, too. When you're drunk, you're not exactly in the best condition to judge the sobriety of others. This was a nice tradition and it provided a kind of intermezzo from Jeff.

I would correct that situation as soon as I could tomorrow because even the dullest day with Jeff was better than the most exciting day with anybody else.

We gathered ourselves up and made our way out around midnight. All the other girls, with the possible exception of Jen, had gotten names and numbers.

These were probably not guys they would pursue seriously, but they would be a good time.

We looked for Jen's car first. It wasn't that easy to find due to our disorientation.

"Hey," said Jen, "somebody's blocking my door."

Sure enough there was a dark blue Ford Explorer with its bumper inches from her door. We gawked. Nobody knew what to say.

The front doors of the Explorer opened and two men got out. The one on the driver's side looked surprising like Jeff. The passenger was older and looked a lot like Rich. They smiled at us.

"Hey," said Jen, waving her arm. The movement almost toppled her. "Get out of the way. We have to be get going gone from here." She giggled.

The passenger guy laughed and said, "You're not even capable of speaking safely, let alone driving. Give me the keys, Jen."

It took her about thirty seconds. "Rich?"

He walked over to her and gave her a quick kiss before scrunching up his face and pulling it away from hers.

"Whew," he said. "Pick two girls to come with us and I'll drive them home."

Again she just stood there for a while.

"Barb and Barbie."

"You're kidding," he said.

"No. Barb and Barbie."

He turned to the driver of the Explorer and asked, "What would they do if there was a third Barbara?"

"Babs?" suggested the man.

After Jen gave Rich her keys, the driver backed up the Explorer so the two Barbaras and Jen could get in Jen's car.

"Everybody else get in with Jeff," said Rich.

Wow. Not only did the driver look like Jeff, he had the same name.

We were not nasty drunk. We were dazed and confused, compliant drunk so we followed his instructions.

He asked each of the other three girls her name and where she lived. He told us he would be driving Naomi home first. He hadn't asked me where I lived.

I felt him shaking me from outside my open door.

"Time to go in, Ashley," he said.

He supported me as we walked to my front door.

I awoke at noon. My head was pounding. I was in my bed, naked.

As I tried to reconstruct what had happened last night, I concluded that the two men who looked like Jeff and Rich had been Jeff and Rich.

Naomi was supposed to have been the first girl taken home so I called her.

She confirmed that it was my Jeff and told me her keys had been pushed through her mail slot and her car was in her driveway.

She remembered Jeff taking her home, helping her up to her bedroom and leaving. I guess he reserved the undressing for me.

I needed to talk to him. This distance had gone on long enough. I called.

"Jeff, can I see you tonight?"

"You see me every night you don't go out of your way to make sure I stay out of your way."

He never gave an inch except for when he dressed up like a clown for my party.

"Dinner?" I asked.

"I'll pick you up at 6:30."

I might be able to spin it with Jeff, that did work sometimes, but I had no illusions. This problem was the result of my efforts to keep him away from the celebration of my legal right to purchase and consume as much alcohol as I wanted.

I didn't even succeed.

He prevented us from driving, which is all he said he wanted to do in the first place. And I was annoyed at him for that.

I was one messed up little girl.



-------

Chapter 39


Jeff showed up at my door at 6:30. He wasn't smiling.

"Come in."

He didn't say anything. He just followed me to my room.

"Jeff, why did you come last night when I asked you not to?"

I kept any trace of attitude from my voice. It was just a question and I wanted an answer.

He took a deep breath. He took several more not quite so deep.

I looked him in the eye.

He nodded.

"I knew there was a good possibility you would be very angry," he said.

He fidgeted. He raised his eyebrows. He shrugged. He gestured with his hands.

I had to fight to keep a smile from my face. He didn't want to answer. This was how he looked when he thought the answer to a question would make him look too good.

I had no idea what he was going to say, but I knew I was going to like it. If he ever said it.

"So why did you do it?"

"I had nothing to lose. If you changed your mind it was the right thing to do."

He fidgeted some more.

"And?"

"Well, even if it turned out to be what broke us up," he dragged it out like he still had the hope he would never have to finish the thought, "at least I'd be sure you were safe. I might not have you, but you'd be safe."

I'd been thinking about this all day; what I wanted to hear; what I wanted to say. I gave him a brief smile.

"I'm sorry, Jeff. I was completely wrong. Please forgive me."

As I spoke that last phrase I moved forward, put my arms around him and buried my head in his chest. It was a sincere act of contrition and of love.

I knew it was also manipulative. There was a greater chance that if I tossed a coin in the air it would never come down than that Jeff would not forgive me when I asked him this way.

He held me. He caressed my shoulders, my neck, my hair.

It made me feel wonderful.

It made me feel terrible.

It made me feel like I had to do more.

"Let's go to dinner, Dr. Goldberg. There's more I want to say."

I didn't order a drink. I just asked for a glass of water.

This hadn't been about drinking but I couldn't work up any enthusiasm for it.

"You haven't called me 'fifths' for a while. Is there any special reason for that?"

"It's not a special reason. The name was what you did, who you were. You've been back around two and a half weeks and we've had two big blow ups already. I think I've made an effort, but it feels like you're backing away from me."

"I guess I have been," I said.

"Well, you're entitled to. It's not like we've made a commitment to spend the rest of our lives together. And even if we did, people aren't held to that anymore."

He was trying to sound understanding and accepting but I could hear the weight on his heart. He thought this was the beginning of the end.

He would do what he could to prevent a breakup, but he would let me go gracefully if he had to. He proved that by preventing us from driving home after drinking.

I was afraid it was the beginning of the end as well. But I was handling it very differently than Jeff.

"Were you planning to come back to our place when school starts?" I asked.

"That's not actually a rhetorical question, is it? How could you not be certain of my answer?" There is no anger in his voice, just incredulity.

"Because I'm so unsure of myself and I'm so worried about our whole situation.

"I don't know if I'm who you think I am. I haven't acted like it lately. Look what you were willing to risk. Look what you were willing to give up. I don't think I could do that. I don't know if I'd even think of that."

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Okay, this isn't rhetorical either; it's more Socratic. But you haven't been wrong yet so I'm just going to go with the program. I'm twenty-one, Jeff."

"How long have you known me?"

"About nine months."

"So you've known me only nine months out of twenty-one years. That's twenty-seven times longer you haven't known me than you have."

"I'll take your word for the math," I said.

"So for almost your whole life, you learned how things are in the world and how you fit into that framework?"

"Yes."

"And at the very end of all that time, a stranger comes along and tells you you're mistaken. He tells you you're really someone else with qualities you didn't know you had."

"Right," I agreed.

"So as I understand your big problem we've outlined here: you're having trouble accepting, on faith, the word of a stranger that your belief system built over twenty years is flawed in that it doesn't give you credit for being a better person than you thought you were.

"And, since you have failed to completely integrate his view, on faith, into your belief system, there is no hope for your future."

I chuckled. "When you say it that way, it sounds stupid."

"Which one had the Caesar Salad?" asked the waitress.

Jeff raised his right hand and said, "That would be me."

I waited until she walked off.

"Still ... Let me put it this way: how much do you love me?"

He gestured with his hands that he didn't know how to describe it.

Then he described it.

"I want you happy. But not this-is-what-you-want-so-I'll-say-it's-okay happy. I'm talking long-term, to the bone happy. So if you do something that's just a short-term fix, I won't necessarily go along with it."

"Like let me drive home drunk?"

"Exactly," he said.

"I can help you put a name to that feeling. It's not mine. I've got to give credit to the eloquence of your sister. The feelings you're describing, according to Sandy, is that you're absolutely stupid for me."

He had a good laugh.

I put my hands on his and leaned in.

"Jeff, I love you so much, but I don't know if I can ever get to being stupid for you. I don't know if that's enough."

"You're mixing all kinds of incompatible concepts together. You look at an infinitesimally short time frame and use it to make conclusions about 'ever.'

"And you're looking at a balancing of love like it's a measurement on a laboratory scale. It seems to me that love is more ecological.

"Deer eat the vegetation until there isn't enough to support the population. They die off from starvation. The vegetation grows back with a vengeance because there aren't enough deer to eat it.

"The deer multiply because there's plenty to eat until there are so many they deplete it. Then the deer die off from starvation. And so on. There's a balance, a range. It's not a mathematical equality."

"You win," I said.

I wasn't giving up. I'd just gained a better understanding.

"I've been worried I won't be able to match the depth of your love and you express some of your passion by explaining the ecological balance of love. What the hell was I worried about?"

Jeff looked confused.

"We don't even speak the same language. I speak English. You speak nerd."

I lifted his hand and kissed it.

"But you're my nerd."

I relaxed and just went with the flow for the rest of the meal. This felt like make-up romance. I developed the proper attitude and everything fell into place.

It was a lovely respite. I knew we would have to talk about our biggest obstacle very soon.

I brought it up after dessert.

"Can we go someplace to talk? I have a pretty good idea what's been making me crazy and I need to talk about it."

Again his smile went missing.

He drove toward center city. His car was surprisingly quiet.

With all that was going on and what was coming up, how is it that I managed to focus on a detail about his car? The lack of noise wasn't intrusive. If it had been raining I would have noticed the wipers.

He parked behind the Art Museum. It was still light out and small groups congregate there most summer nights.

Still, it was quiet enough for us to talk.

"We've been together around - we've known each other around nine months.

"It's gotten pretty intense. I know it's still relatively early in the relationship and when women start to talk about this it's often the beginning of the end, but I was wondering..."

"Could you possibly qualify it any more?" Jeff asked. "Just ask the freaking question."

"Thanks, Chandler. Okay, I'm twenty-one and kind of an adult, I guess, and you're, well, you're not even on the radar yet."

"Maybe you misunderstood my tone of voice. I wasn't asking you to kindly add more qualifications to the question, just whether there were any left."

"This isn't easy," I said.

To my relief, he refrained from another quip.

"Have you thought about, our being married at some point in the future? Whether you'd want to do it? When you'd want to do it?"

He broke into a big smile. "Is this a proposal?"

"No. No, you know it isn't. I'm just trying to make sure this is something we both see as a possibility in our future."

"That's what's been making you crazy?" he asked in his incredulous tone.

Why did I hear that so much? Do I go around making shocking statements all the time?

"No. That's not it. But if we're not both thinking that way, then I really don't have a problem."

He gave some thought to my statement and said, "Nope. I have no idea what's coming next. Your conversation has been confusing and mysterious. Usually I can piece together bits of evidence from the conversation and figure out where you're going, but -"

"Shut. Up. Sometimes you just ramble on about nonsense. I'm trying to have a serious conversation about a serious problem. If you'll just be quiet and listen, I'll tell you what it is."

I could see him struggle. Keeping quiet was unnatural to him but he fought it bravely.

"It isn't just that we both consider marriage a possibility. We lived together for over four months at school, and we're planning to do it this entire school year."

He put up a hand in front of him in a "just a second" gesture.

"You'll be almost twenty-two. We'll both be college graduates with prospects at the end of the school year. That sounds like a good time to get married to me, if timing has anything to do with this."

The hand came down.

"Is that a proposal?" I asked.

He got that funny thoughtful look of his, then shook his head a little.

"Not romantic?" he asked, though it was as much a statement as a question.

"No," I answered.

"Then no," he said. "I'll work on it."

I laughed.

"You really make a girl work to have a serious talk. Here's the premise and the problem. We're going to be living together for the entire school year. We'll be together on breaks. We do almost everything together."

"Except celebrate your twenty-first birthday," he interrupted.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

"And we may be getting married as early as the time I graduate. That means," drum roll, "I'm going to have to tell my parents you exist."

I waited for his reaction. Apparently, the destructive potential implied by this was not obvious to Jeff.

"Was there some question about my existence before this point in time?" he asked.

"No. I have to tell them about our relationship. Duh."

"You don't need to tell them how good I am in bed, do you? I mean, I guess it's okay. I just thought we should give them some time to get used the idea before you tell them what a good deal you're getting."

"God, you can be such a smartass."

"Hey, your Father is a businessman. I'm sure we can couch this in terms he can understand. You're buying low so that you can sell high later."

"Very amusing," I said. "I don't think you're getting the import of this. This is not just Meet The Parents. The thing he's going to like about you most is that you're nineteen and, therefore, way too young to get married to me until he can figure out a way to break us up.

"He's ferocious. And he plays nasty. If he has to, he'll make it about cutting me off from the family."

"You don't know that for sure. You don't have any hidden siblings that serve as an example, do you?"

"I've seen him play hardball," I said.

"So, what is there about me that is so objectionable?" asked Jeff. "From his point of view, I meant, not yours."

I ignored the last part.

"You're not athletic. You're not tall. You're not classically good-looking.

"You don't have money. What money you have is not inherited. Therefore, you don't have proper breeding.

"You're not conservative. You don't have a name, contacts or money that will enhance his business interests.

"You don't have a family, name or money that he can brag about to all his friends who are just like him.

"You don't play golf. You don't play the social games. You don't do small talk. You are very reluctant to lie. You're in science instead of business.

"We don't look good together. And you lack the killer instinct; you're too nice, too cooperative. Basically, you don't bring anything he values to the table."

"And this is how you're telling me he's going to feel before you talk to him? You mean it could be worse?" he asked.

"That's Daddy."

"You know I work with older guys. The youngest are in their thirties.

"They're not really happy treating me on an equal footing, let alone coming to me as a source of information or as someone to evaluate their work, especially since, from their point of view, I'm just there for the summer.

"There are guys in their sixties, who have been doing this all their lives. They have grandchildren older than I. Some of their grandchildren have children.

"And they perceive the company as giving me more responsibility than they get. Do you think they resent me? Hell yes. But they're coming around.

"I don't condescend. I treat them with respect. I solicit their opinions. And I try to do it all in a way that makes them feel they have contributed or even developed the ideas themselves."

Jeff spoke with a lot of passion and enthusiasm.

"Jeff, you basically just told me you're working with rational men who will ultimately judge you on your merits and your behavior. There's the difference.

"My Father's basing everything on a caste system. You either fit or you don't. For him, it's like you're an untouchable saying to a Brahmin, 'hey, Dude, what's the big deal?' He has no frame of reference to understand that."

"Well, he's a father," said Jeff. "There's a pretty good chance you're important to him. That's going to constrain his Machiavellian impulses. You're his only daughter. He doesn't want to lose you."

"Maybe. But some of the value of having me as a daughter is the alliance I could bring with the right family. If I marry you, that's gone."

"Maybe he'll look at the bright side: there's always divorce."

He took me in his arms and I held on tight. For me, it was the best way to deal with it for the moment.

In a very quiet voice, I said, "So here's the bottom line: I think I've been pushing you away to hold onto you longer."

Jeff backed his shoulders away to look me in the eyes with an expression that said, "That makes no sense."

"If I push you away," I said, "we're having trouble. We're not ready to take the next step, so I have to put off talking with him but I get to be with you. But, if things are progressing well, I have to tell him and I'm afraid I'll lose you in the shit storm that follows."

He moved back in.

"You are complicated. And constantly surprising. Certainly not the kind of girl one could get at the five and dime."

He said it with such affection it made me feel everything would turn out all right, even though I knew it wouldn't.

"Isn't that an awfully archaic expression?" I asked.

"We had a Woolworth's right on City Avenue, minutes away, until just a few years ago."

"What are we going to do, Dr. Goldberg?"

"We'll figure it out, Fifths."

He said it with such absolute conviction that I believed him against all my experience. I had faith.



-------

Chapter 40


We got together the following Wednesday, Jeff's birthday, July 24. My guy was nineteen.

Okay, I'm sure you understood the reference to his birthday as a shortcut. We got together every day. The way I saw it, I probably had only fifty to seventy years left to live, so we couldn't afford to waste a minute.

Jeff picked The Rose Tattoo again. What can I say? He liked the place. He insisted on paying. He was, after all, a working man.

"I'm making so much I won't even feel it," he argued.

"You're only working for the summer," I countered.

"Yes, but it's based on a really high salary."

"Well, young man, my trust fund compensates me amply, and it works while you're sleeping."

"That makes me feel like a kept man."

"Good," I said. "Just as long as you realize this obligates you to stay with me."

"The price of a good meal has really gone up," he said. "But I suppose it's a price I'm willing to pay."

He sounded so reluctant I hadn't realized how well he could act.

Somewhere along the way we had added a dimension I had never experienced before with a man. Not only had the conditions never been right, but I doubt any of them had the capacity. Jeff did.

We were playful. We could jump in and out of roles and attitudes and anachronisms at will. We seemed to instinctively pick up what the other was doing. It felt like being a kid and an adult at the same time.

Jeff was so good at it that sometimes he would try to play when the situation called for being serious. I got into the habit of letting him know it wasn't time for play.

"Jeff, I know this is a birthday celebration, and I can get back to the subject another time, but I'd like to talk about the gathering storm."

"I'll assume that's a metaphor since the weather is delightful and we're not studying about World War II. I'm fine with talking about Father Fine."

"Okay, but I really want to talk about my Father, not joke about him."

"Point taken," he said.

"We're going back to school in a month. I've got to start the process with him because this could take a long time."

"What's your plan?" he asked.

"Uh, I tell him. I meet his arguments. I keep telling him. I keep saying nothing is going to change it. And, I just keep at him until I wear him down."

Silence.

"What?" I asked, a little too loud for polite conversation.

"I'm not so sure that's a plan," he thought a few moments, "designed for success. Even if you get him to relent, he still hates it. He just decided that, for the time being, your being with me is slightly less painful than constantly arguing with you about being with me. And there's no guarantee he'll give in."

"So what's your big plan?" Yes, I was annoyed to be dismissed so cavalierly.

"I don't have a plan," he said.

"Ah."

"But, I can make a plan that has a better chance of success than yours." That was all he said.

He was turning up my annoyance meter.

"And just how do you know that?"

"Because I'm going to collect intelligence before I create the plan. I have what I think Sun Tzu considered the most valuable asset in a campaign - a reliable spy. And after I collect all the intelligence, I can target his weaknesses. I can plan surprises to negate his strengths."

I sat there conveying my displeasure with his smugness, but I wasn't sure amusement wouldn't be more apt.

"You know, you can help construct this plan. Hell, you can do it yourself. Just approach it like a battle. Make decisions based on information and an assessment of how he will react. Don't just toss up some oh-I-guess-I'll-do-this plan."

That didn't soften it, even though he was right.

When I got over being angry, I would teach him how you get what you want without making people resent you.

"If you haven't gotten this in some business course, you probably will this year. A lot of business schools teach approaching negotiations, competition, even cooperation, based on The Art of War."

I put up both hands to stop him.

"Enough," I said. "I get it. You don't have to pile it on."

"Sorry."

"So where do we start?"

"Who's the competition?" he asked.

The competition? Oh.

"Two recently-graduated, young men with very good prospects. Starting to climb the corporate ladder from the very ... middle. Their daddies own the businesses.

"They're both quite good looking, intelligent, personable, socially adept and from lovely families. Two highly-qualified specimens of marriageable manhood. Both do very well with the ladies."

"They sound delightful. Maybe you should pick one of them."

"Perhaps I will."

"But, in the event you carry on with your harebrained scheme to marry me, we might as well continue to collect intelligence."

We were sitting in a lovely restaurant picked out by Jeff, having a quality meal, celebrating his birthday by discussing the relative merits of the men my parents had picked out for me as suitable husbands, instead of Jeff.

The incongruity of it all struck me as a perfect parallel to the incongruity of a relationship between Jeff and me. This was exactly what we should be doing on his birthday.

"I wouldn't really marry either of them. They'd both cheat on me. It's their nature. The longer it went, the more power they gained in their business life, the more they would feel entitled.

"I won't put up with that. I'm not going to be that pathetic woman who has to pretend it's not happening or that it really doesn't bother her so she can keep the family together. Even before I met you I would never have settled for that."

He squeezed my hand, leaned over the table and ran his hand up my arm and back.

"Baby, you're the greatest."

"Thanks, Ralph," I said.

"In all seriousness Ashley, you are the greatest."

What do you say to that?

"Are you going to want dessert?" Jeff asked.

"Have you ever met me before? I think this dessert is going to have to include chocolate to improve my mood," I said.

"I might be able to come up with something to improve your mood, perhaps even your complexion."

"Come to think of it, I believe I haven't had an adequate supply of Jeff lately."

"Well, you're in luck. I'm almost certain I saw Jeff on the dessert menu tonight," said the menu item himself.

"I may check that out later. Let's work on the plan to overthrow the king," I said.

"What are his objectives, your Father? What's important to him?"

"Money. Business. What people think of him. I guess what people think of him would be first, his image. God, that's so important to him."

"Family isn't in there?"

It wasn't surprise. He was so reluctant to ask, it seemed like he was apologizing for performing root canal without Novocain.

"Yeah, I guess. It's just not in the top three, although it's probably important as part of his image.

"Gee, this isn't coming out right. I'm making it sound like he's a first class creep, almost like I hate him. I love my Father."

Jeff couldn't possibly believe me. I don't know if I believed me.

"That's, for another therapist. If you're satisfied the description is accurate, that's what we need to devise a plan."

"It's accurate. That's what's wrong with you, or what will be when I tell him. You do nothing to help his business or wealth.

"And you certainly don't help maintain his image. You would become family and he'd have to explain his nerd son-in-law.

"He hates to explain anything. He feels anything you have to explain is, by definition, undesirable. I love you Dr. Goldberg. But I don't think my Dad is going to see anything but Mr. Bill."

He took some time to think over what I had told him.

"What about your mother? Does she have any influence over him in something like this?"

I shook my head and let it drift downward.

"She's that pathetic woman who has to pretend it's not happening," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Me too. She doesn't have the spine to stand up for herself, let alone me."

I was surprised to hear the venom in my voice. I hadn't realized how much it upset me.

To look at our faces, an observer might have thought we were in the process of breaking up. Jeff looked more forlorn than I did.

He took a deep breath and spoke in a quiet voice. He always took a deep breath before using his quiet voice.

"It has nothing to do with you, Fifths. It's who they are. You could have been anybody and they'd still be like that. You're terrific."

"Some birthday celebration this is turning out to be," I said. "It feels more like a funeral. But, not to worry: I have plans."

"Me, too," he said.

"Not that kind of plans. First, they involve going back to my house."

"And they're not that kind of plans?"

"No. There are some things there we have to do so I can give you your very special birthday present."

"And they're not that kind of plans?"

"No. You're getting kind of fixated on that. I will admit I may be considering that kind of plans after we shower."

"Shower? And they're not that kind of plans?" he asked.

I paid the check and left a tip the staff would be talking about for some time.



-------

Chapter 41

We talked about my Father on the drive back to my house. Jeff seemed optimistic we could find a way to get to him based on Dad's concern with his image. I was not convinced.

I parked in my driveway and we headed up to my room. I closed the door and took Jeff to the closet, which was open.

"This is what you'll wear," I told him.

"Khakis?" he asked, surprised.

"They probably work better than jeans for my purposes, and they'll give you another look."

"Ashley knows best."

"And wear those Danskos with them. You can wear socks and that's appropriate for your surprise."

"We're volunteering at a hospital?" he asked.

"I won't answer any questions. You'll just keep asking until you get it right so my answer is: you'll see when we get there."

We got into the car and I headed towards Lancaster Avenue.

"Very mysterious," said Jeff.

I changed the subject, not just to change the subject.

"I've been thinking about what you said about attacking my Father's image. You're bad for his image in his mind. It's a shame, because he could do a lot worse."

"I hope that's not meant to be a compliment."

"We're talking about his view. You know I think you're not bad at all.

"Anyway, I was thinking he could do a lot worse. I could come home with a Goth boyfriend. I could come back with tattoos."

"Please don't," said Jeff.

"I'm just talking about possibilities. I have no intention of marring this flawless skin. But I could bring home a biker. 'Hi, Dad. Meet my boyfriend Spike.'

"And I can do much worse than that. 'Hey, Dad. This is Sputum. He's my dealer, but he is just the baddest guy.'"

"No. What you need to do is bring home a seriously butch, black woman. 'Hey, Dad. This is my old man, Nancy. Don't worry. She's Jewish and I don't have to spend any of my trust fund for her drugs, she turns tricks for that.'"

After the laughter died down we still had to stop the intermittent giggling before we could continue talking.

I turned right onto Wynnewood Road.

"There is one problem with bringing in somebody way more unacceptable," said Jeff. "You need to sell it, and you need to maintain it long enough for it to sink into every pore of their bodies and start to rot them from the inside out before they'll be ready to jump at me as the far superior choice. That could take a long time."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"We need something quick and deadly," he said.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I have no idea."

I turned left onto Haverford Avenue, drove past the light and parked at Wynnewood Lanes.

Jeff was looking at me strangely as I slowed down and parked.

"We're going bowling?"

"What gave it away?" I asked.

He started to answer and laughed.

"When did you learn to bowl?"

"I've been taking lessons."

"I could have given you a book," he said, deadly serious.

I smiled, shook my head and closed my eyes.

"Once a nerd, always a nerd."

I opened the trunk and told him he needed to take his bag with his balls and shoes.

"Where did you get these?" he asked.

I would have thought the answer was obvious.

"I stopped by your house earlier."

He was even more surprised that I had my own bag, shoes and ball.

I'd made a reservation more than a week ago. Summer is a prime time for leagues and they don't have many lanes available. It wasn't a big deal, but he was amazed by the detail of my planning.

If that surprised him, he was even more surprised by my level of skill.

Jeff had a killer hook. The ball would sometimes teeter on the edge of the lane, seemingly about to fall in the gutter, then, almost miraculously, sweep into the one-three pocket and scatter the pins like a stick of dynamite.

The power of the rotation is what scatters the pins so savagely. The rotation causes the hook. It also makes accuracy more difficult.

I had a baby hook which got me a decent mix, but not the kind of explosion that would take down all ten pins when the entry point was not precise.

We bowled three games. Jeff averaged 211. I averaged 142.

When we finished the last game, he sat on the bench and just looked at me. It said, wow! Wow, is she great. Wow, am I lucky. Wow, I can't believe she did this.

That look was the kind of reward that compels you to try to keep giving this kind of gift.

Jeff put his hands up in front of him as if to say, "I'm speechless." And, suitably, he was speechless. It was amazing praise, but I wanted more.

I moved toward him and leaned my chest against his, no hands. My voice and my face spoke seduction.

"Did you enjoy your birthday present?"

"Amazing."

"Let's go back to my house and shower so we can have a leisurely dessert."

Jeff needed no prompting on the drive back to my house. My Father was forgotten.

Jeff talked about bowling and how I always put such thought into not only gifts, but our relationship generally. I think he was a bit off the mark on the latter unless he was counting my devious machinations, but I accepted the praise.

I was slowly moving toward the belief that I did deserve him and that we could last. Occasionally, I would encourage him to continue.

"Oh, no, you're being much too lavish in your praise. It was nothing. Tell me more."

If you had asked me at that point, what was the best part of our relationship, I'm pretty sure I would have said, "Everything." But the thing I was enjoying most, almost beyond reason, was the playfulness of our conversations. It took no work at all and every time we did it I felt more energetic.

We started to kiss when we got to my room and continued to do so as we slowly removed each others' clothing, softly touching newly uncovered flesh. It was intense from the first touch of our lips.

When the last item of clothing hit the floor, Jeff slid his hand up my thigh heading for the juncture of my legs. I slapped it away.

"It's your birthday, not that I need an excuse. I want to drive you crazy."

"Don't you remember how crazy I get from bringing you pleasure; from teasing you so badly you want to smack me?"

"Yes. And I want to do some of that to you."

"Well, if you insist," he said.

I slid my hand over his abdomen and found a treat.

"They don't make them any harder than this. And it sure didn't take you long to get this way."

"You're so sexy," he said, "I get this way just thinking about you. We don't even need to be on the same continent. Who can resist a woman who bowls?"

I decided he was altogether too talkative to be enjoying this as much as I wanted him to. I slid down the bed and ran my tongue along the vein on the bottom.

His groan told me Chatty Cathy had left the room.

I ran my tongue over the entire surface before starting to envelop it in my mouth. All Jeff could do was moan unintelligibly. I eased off because I wanted him to regain the power of speech.

"Do you remember when you used the ice cubes?" I asked.

"Which time?"

Now that was impressive. I'm not sure I would have been able to answer in his condition, let alone crack a joke.

"No, you brought them in twice. You only used them once."

"Oh, yes, I remember," he said.

He could be such a smart ass. I licked the head. He groaned.

"Is there anything comparable I could do?"

He shuddered and paused. It wasn't so much to collect his thoughts as his wits.

"Are you familiar with the word 'Nifkin'?"

I eased my lips over the head and withdrew. He made noises.

"You're not in any hurry, are you?" I asked.

He laughed. "You're such a bad girl."

"And you love it."

"I do."

"Were you referring to the dog in Good in Bed, or the area it was named after?"

"Not the dog." His voice was strained. "At the point of ooooooh."

I slid my mouth down him again. I couldn't help teasing. I slowly moved back up, applying some suction and working my tongue. Jeff had been right. As I felt each quiver, each jerk, each involuntary thrust, heard each uncontrollable sound, I was as aroused as if he was working on me. Each time I teased and felt his need and his frustration grow, my arousal soared.

I eased off.

"At what point?" I asked.

He panted. "Orgasm." Pant. "Put your fingers on the perineum - nifkin - and press lightly."

He was saying it very quickly so he could finish before he finished.

"Either jiggle them or press and rub."

"Tell me... ," I said.

I went back to work. Pressure, movement, tongue, lips. There wasn't anything I wanted him to tell me. I just thought it might hold him off a little longer worrying about what I needed to know before I could give him release. I wasn't far away myself.

I cupped his balls and let my fingers do the walking. His hips began to thrust involuntarily as he grunted. I slid my hand down to the ridge below and replaced it with my other hand.

I don't know what made me do it, but I started to hum Battle Hymn of the Republic. Soon he was making those urgent noises that told me Dr. Jeckyll had been replaced by Mr. Hyde, all action and no thought.

I pressed lightly on the ridge. When I felt the first sharp muscular contraction, I started to jiggle my fingers. His cries of exultation reverberated off the walls of my room.

Shit, I needed a third hand to clamp over his mouth. I at least wanted to tell my parents I had a boyfriend before they found me giving him a blow job.

Suddenly I learned the truth of the aphorism "It is better to give than to receive." My contractions were intense.

Fortunately, the sounds tailed off. The spasms did not. Finally, he was done. Then, so was I. He lay there immobile. I kissed his stomach, his ribcage, a nipple, his chin, his cheek.

"Happy nineteenth birthday, William Jefferson Goldberg."

He began to giggle.

I began to giggle.

"I know you're not eighteen any more, but do you think I could get you interested again?" I asked.

"I think I can. I think I can." He paused. He smiled. "I know I can."

He put his arm around my shoulder and slowly drew me against him.

"Did it work?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," he said. "See how much you can learn from books?"

He slowly pulled back from me.

"Battle Hymn of the Republic?"



-------

Chapter 42


We didn't have a plan.

We knew whatever we did would amount to an attack on my Father's image, his ego.

We had no idea how long it would take. He was a very stubborn man, used to getting his way.

School was starting a little over a month after Jeff's birthday so if I didn't broach the subject soon, it wouldn't happen until Thanksgiving.

I got the chance eight days after the birthday celebration. Dad set up a family dinner to discuss whether June in Europe had been relaxing enough or if we needed a week or two in Hilton Head.

"I'd kind of like to stay here, Dad. I have a boyfriend and I didn't see him for a whole month while we were in Europe."

"You didn't say anything about a boyfriend," said my Mother.

"Not only that, you talked about those other boys as possible husbands. Was that all a lie?" he thundered.

He was on the edge. How far do I take it?

If he's ready to go over the deep end at the slightest provocation, maybe I should hit him with it all at once.

He'll go ballistic if I'm dating him. He'll go ballistic if I'm marrying him. They both cost the same.

"He told me to have a great time over there, to meet people and see how I felt when I got back."

Overstated a mite, perhaps, but emotionally accurate enough.

"But you had a commitment to him when you went that you never told us about. You lied to us!"

Now the staff in the farthest reaches of the house knew the content of our disagreement.

Alright, you want the maximum escalation immediately? Well, in your face.

"There was no commitment. We hadn't decided to get married back then."

Mom dropped her fork. Dad couldn't shut his mouth. He didn't say anything, but it stayed open.

While he prepared his next attack, my Mother got involved. "Do you love him?"

"No. I agreed to marry him just to annoy the shit out of you."

"You can't talk to us that way," bellowed my Father.

At least it wasn't about Jeff, directly.

"And you can't disrespect my thoughts and feelings that way. He is the most wonderful man I've ever met and you're acting like he's a terrorist."

My family is given to hyperbole.

"Get him over here for dinner so we can meet him," he said.

It wasn't so loud but it wasn't remotely conciliatory either. He looked at my Mother.

"Do we have anything scheduled tomorrow night?"

"No," she answered.

"Have him here tomorrow night for dinner. Six sharp," he ordered.

"Gee, how could he possibly refuse such a gracious, generous, sincere invitation?" I said.

"You don't get to be a smart aleck with us either," said my Father, obviously not mollified.

"I'll see if he's free," I said. "I think I can persuade him to come, if he's not going to Friday night services."

"At least he's Jewish," my Mother said.

Dad gave her a withering look.

"How is he going to support you in the style you deserve?"

"He has a very good job."

Don't mention the trust fund. He isn't after my money.

And his value is intangible, yet quantifiable. Ugh. That's how Jeff would say it. I'll leave that approach to him.

"What does he do?" my father asked.

His tone and demeanor told his girls he wasn't backing down an inch.

"I'm not exactly certain, but I think it's biochemical engineering, sort of."

"Well, at least he isn't stupid," said dad.

"No."

He could wipe the floor with you with his left brain tied behind his back.

"I look forward to meeting your young man," he said.

Like he looked forward to a diagnosis of terminal cancer.

"I'm sure he'll be excited to meet you, too."

Every bit as excited as being operated on without anesthesia.

If Dad can lie so blatantly, why can't I?

The few words exchanged during the meal stayed completely away from the topic.

Immediately after, my Father went into his office and I went to my room to call Jeff.

I related the essence of our exchange. He smiled. No, I didn't see it. I heard it.

Then he said, "He didn't even ask my name. That's very strange. I think it's safe to assume, given what you've told me about him, the first thing he did when he went into his office was call a private investigator to find out all about me.

"I don't want to talk too long now. I want to get online and start messing with his head. I love you, Ash. Don't worry about me; I can take him. See you tomorrow, sixish."

I worried anyway. Don't get me wrong. I love Jeff desperately. When there is an issue of intellect, he has no match. But, he isn't anybody's idea of a macho guy.

Though they weren't going to duke it out, my father had actually been in fights. And he had been in battle in business and my impression was that he had only the flimsiest of limits as to how far he would go to win. He had the experience to know what he could and could not get away with. I just couldn't see how Jeff could be a match for him.

Maybe there was a book that told you how to win against a dirty fighter.



-------

Chapter 43


Jeff rang the bell at 6:06. I walked him into the dining room.

My Father looked at his watch. "I said six sharp."

"And that was what, from your mouth to God's ears?" asked Jeff.

My Father stood there speechless, stunned. Nobody had ever talked to him like that.

"I didn't get the invitation until after business hours yesterday and, I don't know how you were brought up, but I was taught you never show up for a first visit without something for the hostess."

He lifted his arm, walked toward my mother and handed her a dozen roses.

"Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Fine. Nice to meet you."

He turned to my Father and said, "I was also taught never to act in such a way as to humiliate a guest. I'm sorry if I made the incorrect assumption that you were brought up with manners.

"I'll forget all about this. I don't want any further embarrassment for Ashley or your wife."

He said all of this in a kind, understanding, conciliatory tone.

My Father's face was turning red. I glanced toward my mother. She was fighting a smile.

Dad remained gruff and accusatory.

"Who are you? I was expecting your older brother William."

Jeff got a confused look on his face and shook his head slowly. "I don't have an older brother. Where did you hear that? Ashley, did you tell him I had an older brother?"

"No. I didn't mention a name at all," I said.

"The phone ... What about the work he did representing our government in Venezuela, trying to smooth relations?" Dad asked.

"Well, it certainly wasn't my older brother since I don't have one."

Jeff got a quizzical look on his face and sounded almost incredulous at the idea he was about to suggest.

"You didn't snoop into Ashley's phone records, did you? My phone is registered in my first name, William, although I haven't used it for a while. I assure you though, I haven't represented our government in any capacity."

As difficult as it may have been for Jeff to maintain his act, I could barely restrain myself from breaking out laughing.

"But that William Goldberg, the address ... How old are you?" asked my Father.

"How old are you?" asked Jeff.

He turned to my Mother and said, "I'd ask you Mrs. Fine, but I know how impolite that would be."

"I'm sorry. You're right," said my Father. I don't recall ever hearing him apologize before. I'm sure it was a ploy.

"It's forgotten," said Jeff. It sounded sincere, with an edge of dismissiveness.

I was awed by the performance. I had expected my Father to destroy Jeff. Instead, he was suffering the death by a thousand cuts. Jeff was late; my Father's fault, and his rudeness to point it out.

Everything Jeff said sounded gracious as he characterized what my Father said as ill-mannered. He caught him on snooping to get information on him, though he surely didn't do it himself.

Jeff apparently planted some stories on the internet to make his "brother" match the name on his phone making my Father look like an idiot talking about a fictitious person. I was sure he wasn't done.

My Mother seized on Jeff's graciousness by saying, "Why don't we sit down to dinner and start again?"

"What a wonderful suggestion," said Jeff.

He walked over to my Father, offered his hand and said, "I'm Jeff Goldberg. Pleased to meet you..." The sound of the "you" was up and elongated. There was no mistaking that he was asking my Father's first name.

Having so thoroughly embarrassed himself, my Father could not fail to shake Jeff's hand. "Ebenezer Fine."

Jeff coughed abruptly, I'm sure, to keep from laughing. He returned to the only empty seat at the table.

My Father was so thrown off his game that, not only could he not form the withering questions and accusations he probably had planned, he couldn't even think of anything to say to generate a conversation.

Mom surprised me by killing the silence.

"Jeff, Ashley said you have some important job, but she didn't tell us what you do."

"I'm kind of a biochemist."

"Kind of?" asked Dad. If he had a moustache he would have been twirling it.

Jeff was unflappable.

"I'm working on a computer model of body systems. I hope to combine the way we replicate DNA, including mutations, and use it to produce proteins, with all the other components of cells to generalize a model of cellular operation that can be differentiated to predict the effects of changes to the nutrition and chemical environment on the functioning and development of the various systems. Then, based on that..."

I hated to cut him off, he was so enthusiastic.

"Jeff, do the guys you work with understand everything you're talking about?"

"Not entirely. Some of their top-level scientists understood it well enough to convince management to make their offer."

"I think you've already gone past our ability to understand what you're talking about," I said. "Mom, Jeff's a computer biochemist, kind of."

She laughed. My Father had been ready to pounce on Jeff's answer of 'kind of a biochemist, ' but as Jeff answered, Dad's eyes seemed to glaze over.

"I don't mean to be dismissive, but you seem awfully young to be doing that kind of work," said my Mother.

"I have an undergraduate degree and I'm going back to school for my Doctorate in a month," Jeff said.

"I, I don't mean to harp on it, but you seem young even for having a college degree," she said.

"Well, I'm only one degree older than high school," said Jeff.

Dad waited until the hiatus between dinner and dessert to start in with his plan.

"Jeff," you pathetic loser, Dad said. Well, it was in his voice, "Ashley said you're planning on getting married. What do you expect to live on, her trust fund?"

"We weren't planning on getting married until after she graduates. I should have my Ph.D. by then and I'm going to be paid very well. I don't think we'll have to touch her trust fund, even if she decides to go to graduate school herself," said Jeff.

"Ashley, you should have filled them in. They're your parents. No wonder they seem so put off."

"I thought you said you were starting graduate school in a month," challenged my Father.

"And I plan to get my Ph.D. in the spring. Where's the problem?" asked Jeff, as if any idiot could understand that it only takes a year to get a Ph.D.

"I've never heard of anybody finishing in that time," said Dad. "You need to take all the coursework, come up with an idea for a thesis, write it, defend it. It can't be done in that little time. It's impossible."

"I guess I should have checked with you first." He sounded completely ingenuous.

"This past January I decided to finish up my undergraduate degree in one year. I entered the previous September and graduated in May. Why should graduate school be any different?

"You've already heard the topic of my thesis. The university has accepted it. I've been working on the details this summer and I can't imagine that it won't be completed by the end of the school year. I'm optimistic I'll get the chance to defend it months before that."

Dad would have loved to jump all over him for his arrogance.

There wasn't any.

Jeff said it like he was telling us he was going to the kitchen to make a banana split. That wasn't difficult, was it?

"How do you expect to have this wedding? Do you know how expensive that is? Is that what you're going to tap her trust fund for?" he asked.

"I understand you don't want to be involved with this wedding, but I don't think that will impose an insurmountable financial burden," said Jeff.

He reached into his pocket and unfolded a piece of paper.

"I've talked to my parents and they've agreed to participate the way a groom's family customarily does. They're delighted. They love Ashley.

"I've got the ad they signed off on for the Jewish Exponent. I guess we'll have it run in a few weeks. 'Louis and Petal Goldberg announce the engagement of their son, William Jefferson Goldberg, to the incomparable Ashley Fine of Gladwyne.'

"'Jeff spent the last year earning a degree in biochemistry and computer science and expects to earn a combined degree in those fields in the spring. Ashley will graduate in the spring as well, in a discipline yet to be determined. The family loves and has complete confidence in her. The wedding is planned for June, just after their graduation.'"

This was it; the heart of the plan.

The prior cuts had just been surface wounds. There was no way Jeff would allow that to be published. I didn't think he would allow my parents to be hurt that way, even if they deserved it.

But he would absolutely forbid bragging about his two, one-year degrees.

The Jewish Exponent is pretty formal and I didn't know if they would allow "incomparable" or showing complete confidence in me, but it didn't matter.

Jeff had made sure everyone who knew my Father would understand which Ashley Fine was getting married by including Gladwyne. They would understand Dad had nothing to do with the wedding.

Dirty family laundry would be aired on the pages of the paper that announced every important Jewish life-cycle event in the area. His public image would suffer a staggering blow.

"Don't worry about the cost, Ebenezer, I'm sorry, Mr. Fine, I've arranged a loan from my company against my salary and I've authorized Ashley to spend up to $200,000 on the wedding.

"My Mother is delighted to plan it with her and I'm sure they can stay within that constraint. It won't cost you a penny."

Add to the battered public image a decimated ego. We don't need your stinkin' money. The cuts were coming fast and furious.

"I don't see how you can possibly have an affair for a thousand people on that kind of budget," said Ebenezer.

Jeff sounded like he was adding up the guests in his head, out loud.

"My family, their friends, my friends, Ashley's friends, I can't see where it would add up to even two hundred people."

"I have hundreds and hundreds of people I have to invite. I can even write them off as business expenses," Dad bragged.

"I'm confused," said Jeff. "I didn't think you were coming to the wedding. I thought you objected so strenuously you weren't even going to be there.

"I planned on getting you a set of pictures in case you had regrets in the future. Are you saying you want to come to our wedding?"

And, fight fans, the blood is flowing.

"This is just a misunderstanding. Of course we don't want to miss our only child getting married," said Dad.

"I'm sure we can make room for the two of you," said Jeff.

"Still, I've got to say, it really doesn't seem fair to me for you to expect us to put our marriage in hock for your business interests.

"Your family is certainly welcome, of course. I just can't see taking on all that additional debt for your business associates and friends. Ashley, what do you think, honey?"

He staggers, and he's down. The crowd is going wild. One, two, three, he's out!

If I had been watching this comedy on DVD, I would have paused it until I could stop laughing. But my role required that I appear to take this seriously.

"I have to agree with you..." What do I call him? Doctor Goldberg makes no sense here. This is the first time he's called me 'honey.' Pumpkin? Buttercup? That would fit in his family. No new names. "And I certainly don't want to take that kind of hit to my trust fund. It's for a rainy day."

Right. Neither of us ever has to work if we rely on it. All we have to do is not go on repeated spending binges.

"I, I'm sure we can work something out on this, said Dad. "Let's not be hasty. You have to give us a chance to assimilate this. You didn't tell us you were getting married until last night. Ashley, let's talk about this."

"Jeff?" I asked.

"It's your family. I wouldn't want to step on your toes."

I had been acting as if he was the captain of the ship of our relationship. He tossed it back to me as if I was the co-captain.

"We'll see if we can work something out," I said.



-------

Chapter 44


The cook brought out dessert. I didn't know her name. It was just another reminder that I was not as different from them as I imagined.

When we finished, my Father asked if the two of us could excuse him and Joanne for a while, so they could discuss this matter. We said we would be around and went to my room.

"How much of that did you make up on the spot?" I asked.

"Not much. I came with a plan."

"Did you really tell your parents we're getting married?"

"Of course not. You're going to be there for that conversation."

"How did you create William?" I asked.

"He didn't get my name. You didn't come to see me, so nobody followed you. The only way he could find out that quickly was to go through your phone records. That got him my first name.

"I wrote some 'news' stories and created a program to crawl around the web and look for places to plant them that might be picked up by a web crawler that culls stories for unofficial biographies. It wasn't hard. There are a lot of public domain algorithms and program libraries out there."

"Okay, I know if I don't stop you, we'll be here all night with the details. So, what was the plan?"

"Push his image buttons," Jeff said.

"He thinks it will damage his image if we get married, so give him a scenario where it's much worse not to participate.

"I don't have the money lined up and I don't think we'll need it. If he needs to invite a small army, he's the only one who can afford it. And if he doesn't pay for it, he has no control."

"That was cruel not to invite him to the wedding."

"You do remember it was make believe?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, convincing neither of us. "I can't believe you got away with that Exponent ad."

"By that time his troops were in such disarray he was looking for a way to retreat. He wasn't paying careful attention."

"I apologize, General. I have to admit I doubted you. I've never seen anyone picked apart so easily and so thoroughly."

"He thought we wouldn't have a plan," said Jeff. "He thought he'd waltz into our encampment and we would lay down our arms. Even now he doesn't know what our plan was."

"Amazing. Most of all," I said, "I can't believe it was this easy."

"It wasn't. It's not over. He may have come in overconfident, but I assure you he has a backup plan. And he may have a backup to the backup."

"But you have a plan to handle that," I said with confidence, "don't you?"

"Nope. I haven't a clue what he might do. Even though we don't have surprise on our side next time, image and self esteem are inflexible for him so anything that attacks them keeps him on the defensive."

"I'm sure glad you're on my side." I moved in and put my arms around him.

"And I'm sure glad you're on my side," I said again, but the meaning was quite different.

"I've never seen this side of you," I said. "You just took charge, with him, with her, with me. If I wasn't sure of the next step, you just told me what to do."

I could see he was getting ready to explain why it was necessary, that his style was really cooperative.

"No," I said. "I liked it, a lot. You saw what was needed and you did it. I'm impressed and kind of aroused."

He smiled and tilted his head. Aw, shucks, ma'am.

"So what do I negotiate with him?" I asked.

"Nothing. If he's doing it, I negotiate.

"If your Mom represents them, give in reluctantly. Let her pay for everything. Let her in on the wedding plans.

"You do know that I don't care what the wedding is like. If you want me to come dressed as Spock, one of the Village People or white tie, it makes no difference to me. If you're there, I'll be there. But, I have no idea where you are on this. What kind of wedding would you like?"

"Fairytale," I said.

"That's fine, Miss Fine. Just don't entertain the silly notion you need to tell me any of the details, let alone ask if I'm okay with whatever it is.

"I'm interested in the marriage, not the wedding."

"I want it to be perfect," I said.

"There is no perfect." This wasn't the first time he'd said that.

We heard my Mother calling for us. That was probably a good sign. She was rarely involved in important matters. Dad was still on the run.

They were waiting for us in the library. Mom wanted to talk about their involvement in the wedding.

Dad asked Jeff to join him in his study to get to know each other better.

Don't go, Jeff! It's a trick. He'll probably be waiting in ambush with his hired gunslingers.

Jeff didn't hear my silent warning. He followed my Father into the valley of the shadow of death.

Mom wanted to talk with me in her sewing room. There were a great many things my Mother did not do in her sewing room, chief among them was sew.

She was docile. I had never seen her that way.

Well, yes, I had. She was usually that way with Dad.

They wanted to go back to the way it would have been had I been marrying their hand-picked candidate. They would pay for everything. They would handle most of the arrangements, except decisions customarily made by the bride.

Was that really what they wanted?

I showed her deep concern for their feelings.

I didn't want to force anything down their throats. I wanted them to remember this as one of the happiest moments of their lives.

I wanted to throw up.

She assured me they wanted me to have everything I ever dreamed of, except Jeff. She didn't say that part. I could feel it, though.

They were delighted with my choice. Of course they were. That explained all the belligerence.

But I pretended to be as gracious as she pretended to be; business as usual in the Fine household.

Everything settled and smoothed over, we headed to the main hall to find the men folk.

The thick oak door to Dad's study was still closed as we approached. I stopped, stunned, as I heard voices through the door I thought was soundproof, a door from beyond which I had never heard a sound.

"Don't ... think ... never..." I couldn't tell who it was, but he was yelling. Then, I think the voice changed. "You ... crush ... don't ... care ... nobody..." I don't know if that was all one person.

And that was it. One or two minutes later the door opened and they came out. Jeff had a dark look on his face that I'd never seen. It was a mixture of anger, pain, frustration, sadness and I don't know what else.

Dad was smiling.

"I think we managed to work out our differences about the wedding," he said. "Don't be a stranger, Jeff."

Jeff nodded. Then, "It was nice to meet you Mrs. Fine. Thank you for dinner."

She was effusive, in hostess mode.

"It was my pleasure. It was just ... lovely to have you. Bye."

They turned and headed up the stairs together.

Jeff had managed a weak smile when he spoke with my Mother. It was gone.

Back was that dark look.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"That's a lie," I said.

"Yes."

"Well, what did he say? What did you say? Who was yelling in there? What's going to happen?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said. It was quiet and resolute.

"Jeff." I stood in front of him challenging him to share it with me.

"Essentially what he said is he doesn't think I'm right for you."

My father may actually have said that, but Jeff was clearly relating a miniscule part of the argument.

"And then you started yelling at each other to evaluate the correctness of his position?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

After I had mocked his refusal to fill me in, that response told me it was futile to continue to press him. Nothing I said was going to pry it out of him.

I tried giving him a hurt look and let my shoulders sink.

"Everything will work out, Fifths."

He put his arms around me and held me.



-------

Chapter 45


The next day we were talking about how to tell his parents, when I found myself confused over a small, yet important detail.

"Jeff, did one of us propose?"

He thought about it. He started shaking his head slowly. His shoulders came up in an unhurried shrug.

Finally, he answered. "I don't think so."

"Hmmm," I hummed.

"Ashley, will you marry me?"

I smiled. "Jeff, will you marry me?"

We both laughed and I buried my head in his chest.

"So, how do we do this?" I asked.

"Dinner at my house. What's your poison?"

"Ohhh, I loved Sam's chili. Can you make that?"

He smiled. "We can make that. Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"No, but what's wrong with tonight? I can't wait. The anticipation is making my nerves raw."

I realized I was bouncing.

"The beans have to soak a long time."

"What about canned beans? Let's go to the ACME."

"Too much sodium," he said.

I was bouncing even more determinedly.

"Enjoy the anticipation. Tonight, we'll get together and have a nice leisurely -"

"Dinner," I said.

"That, too."

"Oh, boy."

"Looking forward to it?"

"Am I ever."

"Let's just do it now and get it over with," he said.

I stopped bouncing. He'd never said it quite like that. I was disappointed.

"You'd rather wait?" he asked in a seductive voice. "You have the enjoyment of anticipating it and then the enjoyment of enjoying it?"

I gave him a frown.

"Can't you ever just tell me something, instead of making me answer it myself?"

"It's not as memorable, nor as much fun. Let's take a ride."

"To?"

"Shopping."

At Produce Junction we bought red peppers, large onions and a lot of garlic. At ACME we bought six pounds of crushed tomatoes, three pounds of tomato sauce, three pounds of dried kidney beans, three pounds of ground beef and three pounds of ground turkey.

I kept looking at Jeff in a funny way. Finally, he was unable to take it.

"What?" he said.

"Are we feeding the homeless? All the homeless?"

He laughed.

"Sam worked out this recipe while he was on the commune. His recipe is for twenty four without the meat. There were more people than that to feed, but that was the size of the pot.

"Nobody's ever tried to convert it to an actual family. We make it and freeze whatever's left."

"That's good, because I'm not that hungry."

"If you ever get that hungry we'll be coming up with names for quintuplets."

Back at Jeff's house, he took out a large pot and covered the beans with water almost to the top. He said you needed around three inches over the beans or they'll be poking out when they've absorbed all the water they can.

"That's it for today," said Jeff. "Now it's time to go have dinner and then consummate the engagement."

"I've never heard of consummating the engagement."

"It's a very old tradition."

"How old?" I asked.

He looked at his watch. "I'd say it started in about three hours."

He estimated it correctly.

We were trying not to be too obvious, so we each slept at home.

Sandy let me in around ten, as always with the big hug.

"Jeff's in the kitchen." She sang it.

The beans were boiling and he was skimming off some foamy white stuff with a big spoon.

"What is that?" I asked.

"The farts."

"Jeff! That's not you. Where did that come from?"

"That's what Sam calls it. It's actually the oligosaccharides, which are -"

"Okay, it's the farts."

Does the rest of his family find these long explanations interesting and endearing? Or do they sometimes want to scream, like I do?

After two or three minutes there were no more farts collecting at the top.

Jeff laid out the plan for cutting up the peppers and onions and sautéing them. He had his own version of The Joy of Cooking, which he demonstrated.

I started to cut a pepper and Jeff proceeded to show me the proper method. He moved behind me. More accurately, he pressed himself into me. He slid his hands down my arms to my hands. He kissed my neck.

I'm sure that's an important part of the technique, I just can't explain why.

He held my left hand on a halved pepper, and moved my right hand, the one holding the large vegetable knife, to cut it into strips. He had my left hand turn the strips ninety degrees. Then, he nibbled my ear.

"Never try to cut anything while you're doing this," he said.

He gave me a moment to recover and then placed the tip of the knife on the cutting board.

We slashed the blade down without moving the tip. He advanced my left hand to move the strips under the knife and slashed down again. Suddenly, we were done.

"That took like two seconds," I said.

"How long is it supposed to take?"

"Longer."

Jeff released my hands and put his hands on my hips. He pulled me tight against him. Then he put his arms around my waist and squeezed.

"What are you trying to do" I asked.

"Hold you closer."

Was he setting this up on purpose?

"If you hold me any closer, I'll be in back of you," I said, without the cigar and the impression.

"Groucho. A Day at the Races," he said without hesitation.

He playfully nibbled my neck. He moved his arms up, around my shoulders and rocked.

"You are an exquisite human being."

He buried his nose behind my ear and nuzzled my hair.

"And that is how we work in the kitchen. If you're a good girl, later I'll show you how to cut onions."

Between us we made quick work of the peppers.

I squeezed by him, placing my hands on his shoulders and dragged my breasts across his back as I slowly moved toward the refrigerator.

"I'm going to get something to drink," I explained.

"Yeah, it can be pretty hard to squeeze by here with only twenty feet between your back and the wall. Not that I'm complaining."

"It's part of my culinary technique."

"You have good technique," he said.

Jeff took the pot of beans to the sink and poured it into a colander. He rinsed them and poured the beans back into the pot and ran cold water to cover it up.

He put the pot back on the stove, the lid back on the pot and started up the flame.

He saw my look.

"Not all the farts were in the foam. They were in the water, too. This will take care of the remnants and finish the beans."

Oh, my God, a short answer!

I squeezed by him to get to my cutting board for the onions.

It turned out there were two techniques for cutting the onions, both ending with chopping them the way we did the peppers. Each involved touching me a slightly different way to help me understand the technique.

I expressed suspicion that these were not legitimate teaching aids, but Jeff assured me he had read about them. He wouldn't lie to me, would he?

Jeff learned my approach as well, squeezing by me each time he needed to get to the sink.

We sautéed the onions and peppers in a large frying pan. Eight large red peppers and five large onions take up a lot of space. They also needed more time than the garlic.

I turned down the flame so I could watch Jeff prepare the garlic.

"I want to keep this relatively mild, so I'm only going to use one head of garlic," he said.

I had no idea at the time how much that was.

"Even with the skin, you can break it into bulbs which can be difficult to peel. So..."

He laid down a clove on the cutting board and brought the vegetable knife down hard on it, holding the knife sideways.

"See how easy it is to remove the skin?"

It almost peeled itself. Then he smacked the knife down on the clove even harder, twice. It was shmushed up.

"I think you get a lot more flavor doing it this way than cutting it into tiny pieces," he said.

He gathered it up and dropped it in the frying pan.

"Would you like to try it?"

He washed his hands and got behind me again to guide me. It was helpful to have him guide me in understanding how hard to bring down the knife.

I didn't think we needed quite so much contact, but he was the one with the experience.

After the garlic had a little time, we dumped the vegetables into a very deep sauce pot. Six pounds of crushed tomatoes, three pounds of tomato sauce and the beans quickly followed and he put on the lid.

He microwaved the ground turkey and ground beef to "melt out a bunch of the fat," and we cooked the rest in the frying pan, poured off the fat, and dumped it in the large sauce pot with everything else.

"Are we done?" I asked.

"Twelve teaspoons of chili powder, six of ground cumin and it's a mild chili. Everything over that heats it up. It depends on how you like it. I'm going to go fifteen and six."

And he did.

"So we're done?"

"No. It has to be stirred fairly frequently to avoid stuff sticking to the bottom of the pot."

"Stuff? Is that the official name?" I asked.

"I don't know. I suppose you could call it sediment."

"Ugh. Sounds disgusting."

"That's why we stir."

"So, are we here all afternoon?"

My displeasure at this thought was evident.

"No. I've enlisted the rest of the family to switch off since we did most of the work."

"Got any plans?" I asked seductively as I squeezed past him.

"Yes, and it doesn't include that."

I pretended to pout.

"I realized we don't have a ring."

Alright, that was pretty seductive on its own.

"Our plans were for how to get your father to cooperate. Then suddenly we were engaged. I'd like to get you a ring that makes you happy."

I smiled and ran the back of my hand down his cheek.

"And then I'm out of it," he said.

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a reproving look.

"You know what I mean."

I did. I smiled.

"Let's surf. We can see way more than if we went bricks and mortar. You can show me the kind of things you like and we can figure out what to get you."

"Jeff, you're completely misunderstanding the process. Buying the ring is just the anticlimax. The true essence of getting the ring is walking hand in hand, or your arm around me would do just fine, from store to store.

"It's a leisurely, lengthy process which would be spoiled by getting the perfect ring too quickly. I'll point to something and say, 'Oh, I like that one.'

"And you'll say, 'It's really nice.'

"Then I say, 'But I don't know. Let's look some more. Oh, what about that one over there?'

"That is the joy, the Gestalt of acquiring an engagement ring."

Jeff had a funny look on his face.

"This is another joke, right? You don't deliberately find the hardest way to pick out what you want. You're..."

He saw my look and didn't need to finish.

"Oh."

"Oh," I said.

He had a pained, cautious look on his face, like he wanted to say something but didn't it want to be a red flag waved at a bull.

"Would it be okay if after we do all that looking, I propose something, non-traditional?"

"Absolutely. As long as I don't have to do it."

"We could still look online to get some ideas," he said.

"No, we can't."

This would be my ring. I guess this was our engagement and our marriage and, ultimately, our money.

But girls don't grow up thinking of the ring as anything other than something he buys, which magically, after an extended browsing process becomes her perfect ring almost as if he could read her mind.

We couldn't think of it differently any more than we could think of it as our wedding, as opposed to my wedding.

We might refer to it that way for his benefit, but if there is ever a decision on which we disagree, it's my wedding, not his.

"How would you like to go for a walk?" he asked.

I took his hand.



-------

Chapter 46


My parents were not expecting me for dinner, not that they ever really did.

I made it a point to tell them I was having dinner with Jeff.

It was part of the strategy we had discussed. Put it out there repeatedly. Dinner with Jeff. A trip with Jeff. A concert with Jeff, classical no less, at the Mann.

My Father was usually unable to hide his displeasure with my decision, though he tried.

But he didn't know what to do, how to look or how to act when I told him about the concert. He had tried for years to get me interested in classical music and I always told him I wasn't going to listen unless it was accompanied by a cartoon.

Should he now be pleased, or distressed? It gave me a warm feeling.

Jeff's family was expecting us at five and that's when we got there.

Sandy came over to me and gave me her usual hug, as always accompanied by her "mmmm" of pleasure.

Sunny gave me a hug and said, "Well, Ashley, I guess this is your entry into membership in our family. Oh, my God, the look on your face. I didn't mean that you're forced to marry Jeff, just that you're now entitled to do the dishes when you don't make the meal. Goodness. I must have really scared you."

"No. It's just, I was, I thought you were, I, I, it just took me by surprise."

Surprise leading to panic. I laughed - nerves. Hercule Poirot would have had no trouble figuring it out.

Louis came out of the kitchen in an apron.

"Louis made the rice," said Sunny.

"Hence the apron," said Louis.

Sandy laughed. "Dad's not exactly at home in the kitchen. Sam says -"

"You can lead a horse to water, but you can't teach him to cook," said Louis, in a tone that indicated he had heard it way more times than it took for it to stop being funny.

But he took it in good humor.

"Sam says I have to wear the apron. It gets you into the spirit. It makes you feel 'cookish.' But, I'm forbidden to wear the chef's cap. Only Jeff and Sunny can do that."

"I'm getting close," said Sandy.

Except for the delightful dinner party Friday night with my parents and Jeff, this was more repartee than I heard in an entire year of meals at my house.

We sat down to eat and I noticed they mixed their chili with a bit of rice so I followed their example.

Sunny was the first to comment.

"This is really good. Very nice job guys."

"Nah. It was mostly -"

"She was great," said Jeff. "She taught me how to be more effective in the kitchen."

He left out, "But not at cooking."

"It is good," I said. "I'm used to it hotter, but this has a lot more flavor."

"Sam says spices are great, but if you make something too hot you cover up a lot of the natural flavors," said Sandy.

Jeff was always at the ready with interesting, extraneous information.

"You know, spices were originally used to cover up the fact that a lot of the meats people used to eat were going bad by the time they got them to dinner. They didn't have refrigeration. But enough pepper and you won't notice the steak is going rancid."

Lovely talk for a dinner table. It really encouraged a healthy appetite.

Sunny was looking forward to going back to school. It wasn't that she was bored during the summer; she really liked interacting with students.

Louis said that the only slowdowns he saw were when people went on vacation. Summer was slow for that reason as were holidays.

"I'm ambivalent about school," said Sandy. "I like the kids and I kind of like the work, but it isn't very challenging. I could try to work harder, but it wouldn't get me anywhere. I have a parent who doesn't believe in finishing high school in less than four years. What can I say?"

It was good-natured and made her point. But, all of us who knew Sunny understood there was no amount of ammunition Sandy could fire at Sunny that would make her change her mind on that.

"This is going to be a difficult year," said Jeff. "I'm going to be working very hard and it could be quite stressful. But I'm also looking forward to it being the best year of my life."

"Me, too," I said.

"Because," said Jeff and paused. We both stood.

"Ashley/Jeff has asked me to marry her/him," we said simultaneously. We took each others' hands. "And I said, 'yes, '" we said in unison.

Half a second elapsed before Sandy screamed. She shot up and rushed us.

Louis walked to us, put his arms around us, kissed me and drew Jeff in for an almost hug. I heard "wonderful," "congratulations," and "lucky." I don't know who they were directed at.

Sunny had a warm, yet wistful smile as she walked around the table.

"You know I love you both," she said. "In many ways you're both beyond your years. And in some ways you're as young as you are. It would be easier to start this when you're a little older, but I think you'll do just fine. And you'll be very happy."

You could always count on Sunny. She wouldn't tell you something just because you wanted to hear it.

I put my arms around Jeff. I wanted him to be part of this, too.

I said in his ear, "All in all, I think they took it better than Mom and Dad."

The Goldbergs are a wise family. They left it to us to tell them about my parents' excitement. If we didn't bring it upon our own, they were not going to make us talk about it.

"So, when is the big day?" asked Sunny.

"We haven't picked it yet," said Jeff. "We're thinking right after graduation."

"So, you're still planning to do it all in a year?" asked Sunny.

"I'm going to try," he said.

"What's the rush?" she asked.

"It gives me more flexibility to be with Ashley wherever she needs to be."

"You could always leave writing and defending your dissertation until later. You could just pop in and defend it and be back to wherever you're living in no time," said Sunny."

"I'll do that if I have to," said Jeff.

Shouldn't I be having this conversation with him? They probably discussed it while I was in Europe.

"I want to see the ring," said Sandy.

"No ring yet," said Jeff. "Ashley tells me there is an extended shopping ritual required before we get one."

Discussion moved to dessert.

Louis drew me aside.

"Ashley, I don't want to interfere in this and you can just tell me you'd rather not, and I'll understand. My mother had a very nice engagement ring that belonged to her grandmother before her.

"If you're going to take some time getting a ring, would you like to see it? Maybe you'd be interested in wearing it in the interim."

What a sweet man. He was also thoughtful enough to tell me alone so there wouldn't be any pressure.

We hadn't been planning on getting engaged quite so soon. But, as long as we were, as long as it was a nice ring, I wanted to start wearing one now.

"Sure. That's very nice of you, Louis."

"So, it's not going to be 'Dad' after all," he joked.

"In my house, 'Dad' is a pejorative."

"Sorry," he said. "Meet me upstairs in a few minutes. I'll get it so you can see it."

After a couple minutes I excused myself to go to the little girl's room and headed up the carpeted front stairs.

I didn't know where to meet Louis for our secret conspiracy. He was hiding in the middle of the hallway. At least that way we could tell when somebody was coming up.

He handed me the ring. It was simple yet exquisite. The thin shank was 14 karat gold. The hexagonal platinum setting dwarfed it. Inside the hexagon was another hexagon which contained another hexagon. Inside that was a European-cut, quarter-karat diamond which looked bigger than it was because of the design in which it was embedded.

I knew that if I looked at it through a jeweler's glass it would look like there was a hole at the bottom because the stone did not come to a point like the modern cuts. It wouldn't sparkle quite as much. But it would look like an engagement announcement on my finger rather than a boulder using my finger for support.

This might not be just a replacement. If we'd been out looking and I'd seen this ring, I might have picked it, though my family training might have kicked in and demanded a larger stone.

What also appealed to me was that it was distinctive. All the daughters of my parents' wealthy friends would be sporting massive rocks. None of them would have a ring like this.

"Oh, my God, yes," I said. "Can I have Jeff do it?"

"Of course." He indicated that I should give it back to him. "I'll go down first."

We entered the conversation easily.

At some point Sandy wanted to know, "Ashley, can you have more than one bachelorette party?"

"Sandy," Sunny admonished.

"No," I said to Sunny.

"I know I can't come to the one with the older girls," said Sandy, "the drinking and all. But I know I can put together something that will be really fun. Please, please. I really want to do this."

The worst that could possibly happen would be that she arranged some kind of math Olympics. But with her imagination, her intelligence and enthusiasm, she might come up with something truly spectacular. Her party might make all others pale in comparison.

"Do it," I said.

Sunny winced.

"But run the ideas by your Mom." Sandy looked disappointed. "She won't decide what you're going to do, just advise, so you don't go off the tracks."

"Thank you. Thank you. You're the best. You know I would have said that even if you had said 'no, ' don't you?"

"Yes, I do, Sandy."

Louis stood up. We quieted down.

"As father of the groom, I'm nearly superfluous," he said.

We laughed.

"I will get to make a toast here and there, but, in reality, I'll do about as much as an appendix.

"But, I do have something for Jeff that might help comfort his nearly naked fiancé."

Jeff, Sunny and Sandy looked bemused. Jeff got up and walked over to his father. Louis handed him the ring, though it wasn't visible to the women.

Jeff gulped and paused for a moment.

He was unable to suppress a huge smile.

He turned and came back to me.

"Ashley, would you like to wear this while we're looking for your final ring?" he asked with some difficulty. "It belonged to Dad's mother, and his great grandmother. They were both very happily married."

"Louis showed it to me upstairs," I said. "I love it and I'd love to wear it."

I held out my finger and Jeff slipped it on me.

"It fits perfectly," I said. "We won't need to get it sized at all."

I leaned in and we kissed. It was sweet and sensual but not nearly the incendiary kiss of our second encounter. No onlooker could possibly misinterpret its meaning.

The Goldbergs were applauding. When we noticed, we broke it off.

I remember thinking that life couldn't get any better.

Then I remember thinking if it couldn't get any better, was it all downhill from here?

Then I remember thinking shut up! Stop worrying and enjoy yourself.

I seemed unable to prevent myself from seeing the negative side of every good situation the way Jeff seemed incapable of giving a short explanation.



-------

Chapter 47


In the weeks leading up to going back to school I saw Jeff on weekends and a few nights a week.

I went out to dinner with Jen a number of times, but she was limited by seeing Rich ever more often. I was going to have to spend more time with him to see what drew them to each other.

Jeff and I established a new routine by going bowling Sunday mornings. There were no leagues and many potential customers were in church so lanes were available at a discount, though that was irrelevant to us.

Jeff kept saying we should invite Ebenezer and Joanne bowling with us. I didn't take him seriously.

At one point he said it would be effective if we made the offer with the correct wording in front of friends or business associates of my parents. It would put Dad on the defensive again, while appearing to be a sincere attempt to bring us all closer.

Nobody would be fooled, but it would be difficult to turn us down.

The strangest situation surrounded my wedding.

I discussed plans with my Mother. We talked about family. We talked about my Father's business contacts and some of the things we could do to accommodate that many of them.

She mentioned all the various pre-wedding events she thought would be appropriate.

I considered eloping.

What we did not talk about were my ideas for my fairy tale. I realized the reason was I hadn't thought about it.

There is a process women follow to plan for the "most important day of my life." It starts in childhood, but does not reach the detail level until we become aware it is a possibility. After all, you don't even know who he is going to be.

You've been dating him for a while and at some point you realize he will make an acceptable husband, maybe even better.

He hasn't even considered the possibility yet.

But you start to evaluate your friends. Whom do you need in the wedding party? How many can you pick?

Are his friends good choices to be in the wedding? Maybe you should encourage him to find better quality friends.

The relationship moves forward. One day he wakes up and realizes this has been going on so long you must have started to consider marriage.

He is instantly frightened. One day you're going to expect him to step up and make a decision. He has to be sure by that time, so he starts looking at you more critically. He doesn't just look critically, he becomes critical. He finds fault where before he found charm.

This phase is unmistakable, and it's time for you to start solidifying your fantasies.

Are you ravishing enough to stand on your own, or do you need to dress your bridesmaids in something outlandish to assure you survive the comparison?

Of course, that's not usually conscious. But it's what you do.

What can you afford to spend on flowers, invitations, the band, the photographer, the videographer, the biographer, the venue, the menu; how much pomp and circumstance can you muster to show that on the most important day of your life, you are the queen of the world?

You can tentatively choose colors, but there's plenty of time to change your mind before it becomes official.

All his attempts to find you unworthy have failed. Now he has to take the time necessary to muster his courage and make the official commitment.

He isn't as critical; you're going to be his so he doesn't want anything to be wrong with you. He may even overlook your faults altogether.

You can see it coming. Now you can start working on a budget. And you can always go beyond the budget. Certainly, Daddy will respond to the desperate needs of his little girl, the one who has had him wrapped around her finger since before she started school. If you must have that photographer, you will have him.

I had missed all that.

I was enjoying myself so much and neurotically worrying so much if I was good enough, I hadn't taken a moment to think about the wedding.

Many of the choices others are routinely granted had been taken from me by my Father's needs.

Some of the thrill of self indulgence had been taken from me by Jeff. He didn't care how much I overindulged myself as long as that would allow him to live with me as his wife. What a killjoy.

For sure Jen and Sandy would be bridesmaids.

I was pretty sure I would be assigned some economically correct bridesmaids from my Father's world and probably some from the family.

It was getting more difficult to think about this as my day, the most important day in my life.

Jeff wanted to talk about the ring. I thought that was settled. I loved the ring. I assured him I loved the ring.

"That's great," said Jeff. "You can keep it and it's your ring. You could also get another and switch off with your mood."

"But," I started to object.

"Before Dad came up with the idea and down with the ring, I already knew what I'd like to get you, if it's okay with you. I'd like us, you to sit down with Harri and design your own, with her help. She's a fabulous artist and I think you guys could come up with something unique, astonishing.

I let it sink in. The idea was astonishing.

Jeff mistook my wonder for reluctance.

"You don't have to do it. It was just an idea that seemed, well ... I won't be disappointed in the least if you decide against it."

"Oh, no. I love the idea. I was just enjoying it."

We told Sam and Harri by phone of our plan, such as it was. They showed the kind of excitement I wish I could have gotten from my parents.

They told Jeff he was lucky.

They told me I was lucky.

They said they were lucky.

They wished us good luck.

Jeff told me he would drive to school in his new car so we could each have the use of a vehicle just in case.

I was disappointed. I loved the rides with him.

But it was practical and I would see him for long stretches every day.

At least that was what I thought.



-------

Chapter 48


I returned to school a few days before Jeff.

He was finishing his work for the summer. I wanted the chance to show him I could be a domestic asset.

I quickly realized that as far as cleaning our apartment I had little interest in domestic competence, let alone excellence. I hired a cleaning service to get the place in shape.

Food shopping took me almost a day.

I had to plan everything we would need. I stocked up on staples. I filled the freezer. I got carried away with that and had to return the things that wouldn't fit.

I got the canned foods and the boxes, cereal, rice, pasta and all the things that would let us get into the kitchen, make it and be done so we could have time together.

My inexperience may have led me to be a tad unrealistic.

Jeff drove up on Saturday morning. When I heard his car I went to the door to greet him. After a kiss appropriate to our lengthy, three-day, separation he took my hand and headed for the bedroom.

I was too excited about my preparation and led him to the kitchen to show him what I had done.

He looked it over and told me it was wonderful and how easy I had made things for both of us. He gave me a powerful hug.

"You are an amazing woman," he said.

Then he went shopping "just to get a couple things."

He returned five hours later with six bags of groceries and two large guys wheeling in an upright freezer they put in a hallway off the kitchen.

Jeff went with them to their truck and returned with a large pot, a very large pot and a huge pot. He emptied three pounds of dried, red kidney beans into the large pot and covered them with water.

"Are we hosting a convention?" I asked.

"Just cooking ahead."

He put the very large pot on the stove and brought out a bag of onions, a bag of green peppers and a large bunch of celery.

"Gumbo?" I asked. "I thought we were making chili."

"I like the 'we.' Gumbo today, chili tomorrow. What we don't eat..." He gestured toward the freezer then started to peel an onion.

"I don't know how much free time I'm going to have so I may not be able to help much in preparing meals.

"I thought there was a chance you would feel you had to do it to prove you'd make a worthy wife. That would be unfair, so I figured I'd make, hopefully with help, as many meals as I could before the work starts."

I started to protest but didn't even get to start.

"I know we could have packaged stuff," he explained, "though it would taste better than dorm food, but with the exception of last year, I've always had real food. This should be a good three weeks worth of meals.

"When it starts to get cold out we can make cauldrons of soup for even more ready-to-thaw meals. Sam and Mom taught me how to make some amazing soups."

I laughed.

"My busy beaver. Don't you ever do anything like a normal person?"

He shrugged and I had to laugh again. I don't think he was brushing off my question; he genuinely didn't know the answer. I doubted he could pass even a multiple-choice test on what normal people do.

"We could have dinner out or order in, you know," I said. "We're not exactly impoverished."

"I know. I just wanted to be prepared."

"Obsessive," I said.

"Potayto, potahto."

"Let's call the whole thing off," I sang.

Jeff just laughed.

I helped him with the cutting. There were items higher on my priority list than waiting for him to finish by himself.

I made the broth and cut up the chicken. He cut the Andouille sausage and prepared to make the roux.

Suddenly he turned, took me in his arms and kissed me. He kissed all around my neck and moved lower to my chest. Then he stopped.

He moved to the stove to start the roux.

"I just needed a break from cooking." He had a devilish smile.

I started to move toward him.

"Uh, uh," he said. "I don't want to have to start the roux all over."

I would have my chances to get even.

When the chicken gumbo started cooking in the very large pot, I took his hand and led him out of the kitchen.

I said, in a grave voice, "We have something to discuss."

I led him to the bedroom and started kissing him. After a bit, I pushed him down on the bed, got on top of him and resumed kissing.

When our lips finally parted, he said, "I thought we had something to discuss."

"Oh. Did I say discuss? I must have misspoken."

While the gumbo cooked we took care of my highest priority. We took our time so it would cook thoroughly.

Jeff took me out to dinner Saturday night.

The rest of the weekend we spent cooking, freezing, making love and just enjoying being together as though we had no other concerns or responsibilities, which was true until Monday.



-------

Chapter 49


When Jeff left for class Monday morning I felt like a married woman, hubby going off to work, me heading off to my own job. We would return for dinner and spend a lovely night together. Was that what married life would be like?

I should have remembered I'd never seen that in my house.

I got home early in the afternoon after visiting the bookstore.

It was just another school year. Nobody had classes all day long, except possibly Jeff.

I did some of my reading, listened to some music and daydreamed. This was a lot like last semester except I was thinking about it differently.

A little after Dr. Phil came on at 5:00, I got some gumbo out of the fridge, put it in a small pot on a low flame and settled in to watch.

Jeff came home around 5:30 lugging a heavy collection of books, muttering to himself. He put them down and met me half way, taking me in his arms for a yummy kiss.

"That's better," he said.

"Than what?"

"Than my day. I've read the essence of the material we're covering but the professors insist on going over it the way it's laid out by their favorite authors. Probably guys with whom they have reciprocal agreements to use what the other wrote."

"Hungry?" I asked. "I made some very tasty chicken gumbo for us."

He feigned annoyance.

"I reheated some very tasty chicken gumbo for us." I smiled sweetly.

He squeezed me with more strength than I knew he had.

"This is what I get to come home to," he said. "It's all good."

After dinner I suggested some hanky panky.

"Let me get an idea of how much work I have to do and we can use it as a break later," said Jeff.

"How romantic."

He didn't answer, breaking out his books instead.

He was a study in concentration. The only break he took in moving from book to book was to surf on the computer for something that, well, I don't know what he was looking for.

By 10:30 I was pretty sure he had forgotten about me, so I reminded him. "Ready to take a break?"

He turned to me almost startled, and smiled. He stood, put his hands on my shoulders and kneaded the muscles. It felt delicious.

"I'll follow you anywhere you want to go," said Jeff.

"I think I want to stay right here. Keep doing that."

"How long?"

"I'll let you know."

He worked the muscles of my neck. He massaged my scalp with his fingertips. Back down to my neck and shoulders. Slowly, he massaged down each arm, down to my palms, over my fingers.

If he thought any of this was going to make me leave this spot until he lacked the energy to continue, he was deluded.

He worked his way up my arms to my shoulders and then he started on my back. In order to get adequate pressure, he was forced to press me hard against his chest.

I trusted his motives and didn't intervene. As if.

I don't know how many times he worked over my back. It's not something you count. You just let him do it and enjoy.

His hands moved down to my butt and again he needed to pull me against him. Honest.

He worked the muscles hard. It bore no resemblance to foreplay. Jeff was not aroused. He was just doing this because he was my guy. That aroused me.

When his hands moved to the tops of my legs, it gave me enough room to undo the button on his pants.

"I didn't -"

I kissed him so he couldn't finish the thought. I pulled down his zipper and placed my hands lightly on his back. I didn't want to distract him. I was just sending a message.

Jeff did as much as he could with the two of us standing in this position. He signaled he was done when he put his hands on my cheeks and kissed me.

I sighed. Then I pushed his pants down and reached for him.

"And now for something completely different," I said.

Jeff whispered, "Monty Python."

What a competitor!

I took him right there on the floor. It gave me the idea that we should leave no room, no piece of furniture unsullied before we left after graduation.

I went to bed but Jeff said he had more to do and was going to stay up a little longer. I woke at 1:28. Jeff was not beside me.

I hoped he was trying to get off to a good start and this didn't reflect the amount of work he would have on a regular basis.

After two weeks of essentially the same scenario I insisted we talk about it with the traditional, fearful four words that introduce serious topics. "Jeff, we need to talk."

Jeff swore all the work was required as part of his program. He was giving me some time on weekends but didn't think he could squeeze any more out and still do justice to his program.

He was perpetually tired. I was careful not to find out when he came to bed so I wouldn't risk developing long-term anger.

He cheerfully took the time to be with me every night even if we just sat in the kitchen and talked. It wasn't an interruption; an interference, I could feel that. Was this what married life was like, one designated time period to be together during the day?

That's pretty much how it went. We didn't have much time together though Jeff clearly made an effort. I was feeling neglected.

I got together with Jen on a regular basis. There was plenty of time with Jeff absent so often.

I tried to get her take on the amount of time Jeff was spending on his schoolwork, but who has ever had the experience of watching someone trying to get a Ph.D. in a year?

If this was what it was like to be with someone, I would rather just date. I saw him much more when we dated.

I knew I was wrong, but it didn't change the feeling.

Everything changed abruptly one Monday in the middle of October.



-------

Chapter 50


I had been feeling a little strange all day and after dinner I was out of energy and out of sorts.

At 8:30 I told Jeff I was going to bed because I didn't feel well.

He put his lips to my forehead and said, "You're hot. Get into bed and I'll get you something cold to drink."

"I just want to get some sleep."

"That's a sure sign you're sick."

I was asleep before I could answer.

Later that night I woke up drenched. I noticed the light on in the corner over the easy chair with books piled on the edge of the desk.

Then Jeff was walking to my side with a towel. He wiped off my sweat. He put down the towel and placed a cold, wet washcloth on my forehead. It felt so good.

Next he was running another cold washcloth over my body. The water replaced the clammy feeling of perspiration and cooled me as it dried.

I still felt like shit, but I did get back to sleep.

Jeff woke me some time in the morning and I was sweating again. He had ginger ale and ibuprofen for me. The latter was a good idea because I was starting to ache all over, which I told him.

"I called the campus hospital and they said the flu's going around. Sorry, but you seem to have joined the club."

"Get me some antibiotics," I said.

"It would be just as effective to sing the National Anthem. Antibiotics don't work against viruses."

"Now you're a doctor?" I should have anticipated the answer.

"I read a book."

"Do something," I said. I hurt.

"I do have something very effective against the flu."

"Good. Get it. What is it?"

"Placebo. I have some in the kitchen."

I didn't know whether to laugh or be angry.

"I know what a placebo is. How dumb do you think I am?"

"I just thought you might be too sick to notice. But placebos actually do work. Sometimes they work better than the medication they're being tested against."

He was serious. I wasn't about to ask again. The answer was a book.

"But how can it work when I know it's a placebo?"

"Do you? Maybe I told you it's a placebo but it's the real thing. Then when it works, you'll begin to believe in placebos.

"Next time, when I use a bona fide placebo, your mind will have fooled you into thinking they work, so it will work.

"But what if it really is a placebo and I told you all this to get it to work this time because you think you're getting the real thing?

"But what if -"

"Shut up, Jeff! You're making my head hurt. Just get me something."

He left the room and returned a few minutes later.

"Open up," he said.

He didn't want me to see what I was taking. I let him get away with it because it just might help.

I woke up some time later. There was an aroma of something cooking but I couldn't identify it. My head ached and I was hot, but at least I wasn't sweating.

Jeff walked into the bedroom with a steaming mug with a spoon sticking out of it.

"Homemade chicken soup," he announced. "Studies have shown it to be the most effective flu remedy by thirty five percent."

"You're just making that up," I said.

"Yes. But that makes sense because ninety three percent of all statistics are made up."

"You're just making that up," I said.

"Yes. But I'm pretty sure chicken soup will help."

I laughed and started my soup. I don't know why, but I glanced at the clock.

"Why aren't you in class?"

"I'm missing some classes to help you get better."

"That could hurt your grades. You go to class, now."

"Do I care what grades I get?" he asked as if they were of no importance to him.

"Hell, yes," I said. "You're a freakin' perfectionist. Do you put in all that time studying because it's the absolute minimum you need to graduate, or do you do it because you can always do a little better?"

I can't say it enough. This is one of the things I love most about Jeff. Ask that kind of question of anyone else and they will give you their perfunctory, defensive answer.

He thought about it. I could see his eyes moving around, not really focusing, like he was trying to see facts and logic somewhere in the air. That's what he looked like when he was thinking.

I didn't care what he answered. That he took my question seriously was enough.

"I think you've got something there, Fifths. I may be a studyholic. Here, take your placebo."

They looked a bit like sugar pills but they were deep brown.

I finished the soup and part of a glass of ginger ale and was exhausted from the effort. I rolled onto my side and put my head on the pillow.

I woke around 4:00 and turned on Oprah. I didn't finish.

I next awoke to sounds in the kitchen.

Soon Jeff came into the bedroom with a tray of soup and crackers.

He took the glass and refilled my ginger ale. He gave me two more of the placebo pills. This was awfully strange behavior if it really was a placebo.

He removed the tray when I finished and returned with lime Jell-O, without the alcohol.

"I thought you deserved a treat since you've been such a good girl," he said.

I perked up. "What's the treat?"

"Nobody likes a smartass."

"You do."

He sat down on the other side of the bed and watched the remainder of the evening news with me.

My fever was gone. I thought this was a good sign until I noticed myself getting colder rapidly. In a heartbeat I had the chills. I was shivering uncontrollably.

Jeff threw off his clothes and jumped into bed with me.

"I'm this sick and you want to do me?"

"Grace under pressure," he said.

He snuggled tight to my back to warm me.

"Get out of bed, Jeff. You're going to catch it."

"If I'm going to catch it, I already have. You were spreading it around the house before you got symptoms."

I was still shaking. He rolled me over so I was facing him and pulled me tight against him.

"Are you crazy?" I asked, but I noticed I was warming up.

"The odds are the same no matter which way I'm facing."

"You made that up, didn't you?"

"Probably."

I didn't know whether to be angry with Jeff for risking his health and blowing off classes or pleased that I was more important. I think I was a little of both.

A little after I stopped shivering Jeff got out of bed.

"No need to further tempt fate," he said.

The shivering had taken a lot out of me and I drifted off to a long night of sleep.

Once again I awoke to sounds from the kitchen. I was feeling a little better so I put on a robe and slippers and went there to join Jeff.

"Good, the patient's improving."

He served me toast with jelly and Jell-O. He was having sunny side ups and home fries with his toast. It didn't seem fair.

I devoured the toast.

"I'm really hungry. How about some of the home fries?"

"I'm not sure you're ready for that," he said.

"I'm starving, Jeff. Please?"

"No; not a good idea."

"Okay," I said with resignation. "Could you get my ginger ale? I left it in the bedroom?"

He got up from the table and headed into the bedroom. I reached over and scraped some of his fries onto my plate and shoveled them down with my fingers before he got back. As he returned to the room I burped.

"Oops," I said.

He looked at his plate suspiciously, but what could he do? To smell my breath would be stupid. I smiled and gave him an innocent look.

My stomach rumbled. I started to feel queasy. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all, let alone eating them so quickly.

My stomach started to roil and I took off for the bathroom. I almost made it to the toilet before the lion's share of my breakfast wound up on the floor.

I remained on my knees and continued to retch for some time. As the nausea eased I felt Jeff's hand holding my head while he cleaned me up with a warm washcloth with the other hand.

When he was done he tossed the washcloth into the sink.

I remained on the floor until I could regain a little strength. I started to reach for the toilet paper to clean up but Jeff was helping me up.

I pointed toward the floor and said, "I..." I really wasn't in the mood to name it or finish the sentence.

Jeff said, "I've got it," when I pointed.

That was fine with me. I felt sick again and I just wanted to get back into bed.

Jeff brought me a glass of ginger ale and my placebo. The episode had taken enough out of me that I slept until dinner.

When I awoke, I felt better and worse. My aches had subsided. I still had a fever. My skin was sensitive but it no longer hurt.

The nausea was gone but my head was stuffy and my eyes were watering. I seemed to be in the stage where it morphed into a nasty cold - a considerable improvement.

Jeff brought me more ginger ale and placebo for my appetizer.

"You were asleep at lunchtime so I left you alone. The more time you spend sleeping when you're sick, the less of it you feel."

"Thank you," I said, though it sounded more like, "Dak you."

That night, when I displayed the energy and ability to do things for myself, Jeff brought me a black loose leaf binder.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Your notes and assignments from the days you've been sick."

I opened it.

"You can see I've got a divider for each of your courses. There are notes I was able to get from your classmates and notes I took for a couple classes I couldn't get coverage for."

"You went to my classes instead of yours so you could take notes?"

It was my turn to be incredulous. That was crazy. Who would do something like that? Who would even think about doing something like that?

My Jeff.

He shrugged. Aw shucks, ma'am. T'warn't no big thing.

It was such a big thing I was stunned into silence.

I continued to look through the binder and my astonishment grew. He had read all the assigned material, summarized it including all the key details he thought I might be asked in a test, and added his commentary on what he thought was most important. At the end of each section, he put the material in a conceptual framework.

I wanted to say something but I couldn't think of how to start or what I even wanted to say.

Jeff sat a minute, got up and said, "I've got some studying to do."

That's it? Would this cost him enough time that it jeopardized his finishing by the end of the school year? How could he risk that? Did he think I was incapable of catching up myself?

Maybe it would be difficult to understand the new material when I hadn't even seen the stuff that came before it. This was like what he had done for me when we were in high school except he didn't have the time to spare.

Back then he had done it to win me over as a potential date. This time he had already won me. He did it because, because why?

He returned with some books, sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the bed and turned on the light on the table. He looked tired.

"Jeff, please don't stay up too late."

He nodded and said, "Okay."

Jeff continued to pick up the notes while I was out and attended one of my classes himself to take the notes when he knew they wouldn't be available any other way.

I regained enough strength to return to class the following week.

I didn't have the energy to work out my feelings about all this so I contented myself with ambivalence.

In the weeks that followed I learned that Jeff had developed a nerd network in my classes. Not only did he speak fluent nerd, he was able to show them his girlfriend's picture so they would know who the favor was for.

I had a boyfriend, as if that affected their chance with me, but it allowed them to dream and hope.

Jeff was almost always up before me and always went to sleep after me, except for those times he fell asleep while reading or working at the computer.

He was not only burning his candle at both ends, he was burning it in the middle as well.

I was not happy to see him exhausted so often. I began to think about how I could get him to modify his behavior.



-------

Chapter 51


Now that cell phones are ubiquitous, there is almost no place and no time you cannot reach someone if you need to.

This, however, requires you to keep your phone on.

That shouldn't be a problem because you can always use vibrate if you don't want your ring to disturb other people. It seemed Jeff had not mastered this concept.

It was the second week of November. I returned to our place in the middle of the afternoon. I put down my books and went to the kitchen to make myself a snack.

As I was deciding what I wanted, the phone rang. When I lifted the receiver I noticed there were thirteen messages on the answering machine.

"Ashley, is Jeff there?" It was Sunny. Her voice was controlled but just this side of panic.

"No. He gets back from class around dinner time. Uh, 5:30 to 6:00."

"Is there any way you can get a hold of him?"

This was getting scary. The voice, the urgency conveyed by the fourteen calls, the request to contact him immediately told me he wasn't going to be pleased with the subject of the call.

"I don't know. I don't know his schedule. There hasn't been any reason to contact him during class so we never discussed it. What's going on?"

I chose to avoid, "What's wrong?" to avoid implying bad news, though I knew it was coming.

"Louis had a heart attack. We don't know how bad yet, but it's serious."

"Oh, my God. I'm sorry. I'll have him call you the minute he gets in. In the mean time, I'm going to gas up the car and make us sandwiches for the trip.

"We'll leave as soon as he gets back. Is there anything I can bring or do that would be helpful? Can I make sandwiches for you? Can I call anybody? What can I do?"

I didn't wait for answers; I was just throwing out questions as quickly as I could think of them. This was terrible.

"No," said Sunny. "I've, we're calling people, letting them know. We'll be able to get something to eat. They're doing tests now and they really don't know anything yet.

"At least I hope they don't know anything rather than keeping it from us. No, I'm just letting my emotions get the best of me. We've just got to wait until they can tell us how bad it is or isn't."

"We'll get there as soon as we possibly can, Sunny. And I promise to have Jeff call you the second he gets in."

I did my job. I went to the local 7/11, filled up and got us a bunch of subs. I bought way more than we needed just in case somebody at the hospital didn't eat before we got there.

I did it slowly, but by the time I got home, it was only 4:00.

I was too antsy to watch TV.

The laundry was done. The place was clean.

I wished somehow I could just jump over the next hour and a half and head home with Jeff. I had to do something to keep my mind occupied. There was no point in worrying about Louis. There was nothing I could do.

So I worried about Jeff.

He was running himself ragged and I was worried about his health. He hadn't taken care of himself when I had the flu. He stayed up late and got up early. He was so tired that sometimes he nodded off when he was studying.

The only exercise he got was when we danced.

Was Louis the same way? I hoped he was okay.

I wasn't the only one who noticed.

Jeff's faculty advisor had stopped by the previous weekend to chat with him. I offered to leave them alone but Jeff said he had no problem with my staying.

"Jeff," he said, "I've had a long and pretty distinguished career at this University. I thought I had seen everything, but you've introduced a whole new brand of craziness."

Jeff and I just waited for him to continue.

"I've gotten complaints from almost all the assistants and professors teaching your courses. They asked me to see if I can convince you not to be so damn well prepared for their classes."

Jeff was so shocked he wasn't able to muster so much as a, "What?"

After a while he did say, "I don't understand."

"Well, they say it's bad enough they never have a question you can't answer. But you answer with details and footnotes and caveats and other considerations and this guy has a different take on it and if you look at it from the point of view of that, and so on.

"You're burning them out. Many of the students can't follow what you're talking about. You're also driving your fellow students crazy. You have all of them worried they're going to flunk out.

"They listen to you in class and even though they know they're covering the material and understand what they're supposed to, they're scared they are missing something. They're worried they really don't understand the material.

"I know your approach is great when you're trying to analyze a situation, but everybody else is just trying to learn the basics of how things work. Can't you just answer a question without giving the entire history of how people came to understand it?"

Good luck, I thought. I've made no progress on that front and I think I can count on my finger how many times Jeff just gave a simple answer - one.

"I know it sounds ridiculous when I say it but could you do a little less work for your courses? Could you try to be just a little bit of a slacker?"

I started, then cut off a snort laugh. They looked at me. I held up my hands in front of me. I'm not saying anything, guys.

Jeff didn't speak slacker. He shrugged like he had no idea how to respond because he had no idea how to respond.

"College is supposed to be fun, Jeff. Use some of the time to play a sport, find a hobby, or just rest. You look kind of beat.

"Look, you don't have to follow my suggestions, but you'd make everybody else feel more relieved if you didn't work so hard. It's up to you. You'll do great either way."

He got up and they shook hands.

Before he left he had another thought.

"You know, Jeff, if you can't see your way clear to easing off, maybe you could just cut some more classes. I was told there was a brief period when you weren't coming to class. The professors told me it was a relief to them, their assistants and the students. Think about it."

That was the most bizarre conversation I'd ever heard.

"Nice meeting you, Ashley," he said as he headed for the door.

It was too soon to tell if Jeff had taken it to heart.

If he didn't change, I'd have to find a way to get him to relax. Maybe I could seduce him repeatedly.

There was no point in packing anything. We both had whatever we needed back at our parents' houses.

I'd heard surprisingly little from my father. It was possible he had just decided to accept the situation. It was possible Jeff would decide to become a slacker.

Mom was in frequent contact to let me know what was happening with the wedding. We were supposed to be planning it together, but she and Dad had so many requirements I had very little say about what happened and how it happened.

I guess I was like a princess at her royal wedding. With protocol and affairs of state taking precedence, she couldn't exactly tell the queen she wanted balloons instead of flowers and, by the way, could we have some of those cocktail franks as appetizers.

I thought about my options for graduate school. I had taken too many business courses to graduate in time with any other major. But I could prepare for grad school by loading up on useful electives next semester since I was finishing my required courses this one. I was considering psychology courses to help me learn how to subtly get Jeff to change.

Then, Jeff came in the door.

I had managed to fill up over an hour and a half with my rambling thoughts.

"Jeff, call your mother immediately. We're heading to Philly. Your father had a heart attack."

He expressed shock and tried to ask some questions, but all I would say to him was, "Call!"

When he did, all I would say was, "Let's go."



-------

Chapter 52


They were all there in the hospital lounge looking somber, but not distraught. Either nobody had told them anything or Louis was going to recover.

In addition to Sunny and Sandy, Sam and Harri had somehow managed to get there before us.

"Thank God you two are here," said Sunny.

"What's the situation?" asked Jeff.

"We don't know. Nobody is telling us anything," said Sunny.

"How can they not know?" he asked.

"They're still doing tests," she said. "I got a call from his office and came straight here.

"The nurse told me they had to do tests to figure out the extent of the damage and each time I ask they're off doing this test or that. It's almost as bad as the heart attack, waiting and not knowing."

"Where's the doctor?" asked Jeff.

"We don't know," said Sunny. "We just get to talk to the nurse."

"Which nurse is in charge of the floor?" Jeff asked.

"I don't know," said Sunny.

Jeff walked down the hall to the desk and talked to a nurse for a while. She pointed and he disappeared around a corner.

"I don't know why he thinks anybody will tell him anything," said Sunny. "I can't get anything out of them and you know I'm no shrinking violet."

I squeezed her hand.

"Jeff is pretty remarkable. I saw him disembowel my father. It was an amazing sight."

"Thank you," she said.

We sat for a few minutes. I got up, walked over to Sam and Harri and hugged them. Then I went over to Sandy and hugged her. She quivered like she was ready to break down. I held on to her and she managed to regain control of herself.

Before long we saw Jeff walking back down the hall toward us. Beside him walked a man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck. It was all we could do to keep from rushing them.

The man addressed himself to Sunny. "I'm Doctor Price. I'd like a few words with you in private about your husband."

"There isn't anybody here that can't hear it. They'll know as soon as I tell them anyway."

He nodded.

"Your husband has had a heart attack which did not cause extensive damage. The prompt treatment he received helped ameliorate the situation. However, two arteries are almost completely occluded and we have to address that immediately.

"We discussed treatment options with him, but he did not seem inclined to make a choice on his own. He said he would go with whatever you and young Mr. Goldberg decided."

Young Mr. Goldberg? That seemed very strange. What was going on here?

Dr. Price continued, "We would ordinarily do a double bypass, taking veins from his leg. But we have an opportunity to perform balloon angioplasty and use new experimental medicated stents which have shown exemplary results in clinical trials. I feel their availability makes this procedure the optimal choice in this case."

"I'm not thrilled about experimental procedures when there is an effective, standard procedure available," said Sunny.

"Balloon angioplasty with medicated stents is not experimental. This is a new stent in trials to be approved. It has shown superior efficacy and has just become available to us through the trials."

"Jeff?" asked Sunny.

"I've seen the study. The results are very good. They haven't been astounding enough for the FDA to shortcut the process, but it's going to be approved unless some surprising bad results turn up.

"It's less invasive, provides quicker recovery and could offer a better chance that it won't recur. I say we should take this option."

And that was that. It wasn't until the next afternoon that Louis was able to fill us in on what had transpired.

The nurse had blown off Jeff the way she blew off Sunny. She was amused when he asked to be directed to the head nurse, knowing that policy was policy, but gave him directions.

The head nurse told Jeff the policy. He asked to speak to the Hospital Administrator about participating in a clinical trial being run by Second Foundation.

Of course Jeff couldn't be sure, he told her, that his father was an appropriate candidate to participate since nobody had told the family what was going on.

"So Jeff told her," said Louis, "maybe he should just speak to the Hospital Administrator tomorrow so he could explain why they had lost the opportunity to participate in the trial, the recognition, the funds it would generate and the opportunity to participate in the future.

"Then Jeff said, 'I'm sorry to have bothered you. I shouldn't have taken up your time. Don't worry, I'll tell him it wasn't your fault; you were just following policy. Nobody expects a head nurse to take any initiative.'

"And he turned and walked away from her, though he could see her turn white before he finished turning.

"I'm surprised you couldn't hear her shout, 'Wait!'

"Anyway, she connected Jeff with the doctor and Jeff repeated his threat slash offer, he put Jeff on hold and had the hospital operator get the Administrator and he explained my condition to Jeff and then the operator broke in with the Administrator and they had a three-way and came out to talk to you," he said, gesturing toward Sunny.

"How do you know all this?" she asked.

"The doctor was laughing about it. The nurse can be kind of a pain in the ass and Jeff scared the crap out of her.

"She went to the doctor all worried and he made it seem like he had taken care of the problem for her and she was lucky because she could have been in big trouble.

"The doctor said Jeff kind of scared him too."

"I didn't know you had it in you," said Sunny.

Jeff tilted his head a little to the side to say no big deal. But it was.

I'd seen it twice now. When Jeff set his mind to something, he could be very scary. Lots of guys have the macho attitude and some are willing to carry it through to their ultimate goal.

Jeff looks like Casper Milquetoast and usually he's pretty agreeable. But if he has a goal and you're in the way, step aside if you value your well being.

"How did Jeff get you into the clinical trial?" asked Sandy. "You got the stent so obviously he made it happen."

Was Jeff reluctant to talk about himself even to his family? How come nobody asked Jeff these questions?

Louis shook his head. "I don't know."

"Jeff?" asked Sandy.

He shrugged. "I called my CEO. He said to do whatever I needed to."

After a pause, I said, "You really know how to drag out a story."

Everybody but Jeff laughed. He blushed.

"How do you know him to call him at home?" asked Harri.

"He's the guy who negotiated my deal. That's one of the reasons I decided to sign with them. His personal involvement showed me a commitment to the work they're doing, not just a desire to make a lot of money."

"Ugh, a lot of money. We're going to have Jeff Rockefeller," Sam said as if money was a bad thing.

Sunny stayed. The rest of us left mid-afternoon.

Sam made dinner and Jeff helped. Sandy and I set the table.

Sunny returned later. When she got back, she said she needed to "borrow" me for a minute.

She took me to the living room hugged me, and held on like I was a life preserver alone with her in the middle of the ocean.

"You are so special," she said. "I hope your family appreciates how wonderful you are."

Not in the least. To them I'm a problem to solve.

"Thank you."

"Thank you," she said and she rubbed her hands on my back.

Around the dinner table I asked Harri and Sam how they had managed to get here so quickly.

Harri answered. "We come every Thanksgiving. We work our way across the country visiting friends and family and wind up here late in November. We were already quite a bit of the way here so we just tweaked our trip a little bit."

"Not the ideal circumstances for a get together," said Sam, "but it looks like the outcome will be just fine."

They sprinkled in Louis stories with the other conversation.

Near the end of dinner, Sunny gave a big sigh. It was the introduction to what had been on her mind. Her tone was a mixture of frustration, worry and affection.

"Louis doesn't take very good care of himself. He seems to think bowling every two or three weeks keeps him in top shape."

She shook her head.

"I've been nagging him about this for a long time. There's a history of heart disease in his family. His grandfather died from a heart attack when he wasn't even fifty."

"Didn't they think that was what caused his father's accident? A heart attack?" asked Harri.

"Yes," said Sunny. She glanced over at me and saw the look of panic on my face. "It's nothing to be worried about, Ashley. Jeff is only nineteen."

"And in thirty-one years he'll be fifty, hopefully," I said.

"Did anybody happen to notice I'm still here?" asked Jeff.

"But for how long?" asked Sandy, drawing out the words with great drama.

That set us all to laughing and the tension lifted.

It didn't prevent a train of worry from starting in the back of my mind that would return frequently over the next few weeks.

I stayed in my room that night and drove back to Jeff's house to take him to the hospital.

Louis was up and walking around, though not very fast and not very far.

He only let us visit about half an hour before he insisted we return to school. We protested weakly, knowing he was probably right. We could track his progress from school and couldn't afford to lose too much time, especially Jeff, who lost enough the week I was sick. Unless he changed his approach he would be piled under if he took much time off.

My relationship with Jeff's family had been wonderful before the trip. Now it had changed. I was irrevocably a member of the family. There would be no avoiding doing dishes.

They had always been warm toward me but the texture of their voices as they spoke to me, the feelings of their hugs said I was one of them; I belonged.



-------

Chapter 53


I didn't get to spend much more time with Jeff up to the Thanksgiving break. I chose to spend my free time educating myself on nutrition and exercise, particularly the way they affected coronary artery disease.

Sitting around waiting to find out if Louis was going to survive and seeing him in his fragile state the next day left an indelible image in my mind. Each time I saw Jeff in his place a chill ran through me.

Jeff was tired much of the time and I fantasized about drugging him to force him to get a full night's rest. But everything I read about the drugs suggested it might be a lengthy sleep, but it would not be as effective as normal sleep and there was a good chance it would not include REM sleep.

God, I was turning into Jeff.

We took my car back for Thanksgiving. I was hoping Jeff would sleep in the car as I drove. He didn't.

He asked about my courses, my vocational plans for the future. He apologized for not having enough time to spend with me but pledged that any time I wanted to be with him over this break, he would be there.

We stopped at Jeff's first. I had already called home the day before to tell them I didn't expect to be there for dinner. I assumed I would be invited to eat with the Goldbergs.

I didn't get my dinner invitation. It was just assumed.

After greeting me with a big hug, Sunny said, "Ashley honey, you can set the table with Sandy."

Just two weeks had passed since we returned to school, yet Louis looked almost himself again.

Unlike any of my previous visits, everyone seemed more reserved. There were topics that had the potential to make for uncomfortable conversation, like the progress of Louis' health and the plans for my wedding.

Just like that I had slipped into thinking of it as my wedding, not ours.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. My parents weren't making all the plans, per se, they were making all the decisions. I was perfectly welcome to plan, I just shouldn't have any expectation that my plans would be implemented.

Harri and Sam regaled us with the highlights of their year and spoke dreamily of their covered-wagon adventure.

Sandy was coming out of her funk that followed Louis' heart attack. But the dramatic moment of the evening was supplied by Sunny as we finished dessert.

"Ashley, are you planning to come over early tomorrow to visit, or will you be coming later in the afternoon with your parents?"

Ashley, who?

My parents? With Sunny, Louis, Jeff, Sandy, Harri and Sam?

I sat there in stunned silence.

"Ashley, are you okay?" asked Harri.

I turned to Jeff. He had that same stupefied look on his face.

Good. It wasn't just me.

I turned back to Sunny, shaking my head slowly and said, "Nobody said anything. I didn't know."

I probably could have answered the question if I had been thinking, but thought would come later.

Nobody seemed to know what to say until Jeff said with little conviction, "It could happen."

"In a Disney movie," I said.

"Are we missing something here?" asked Sunny.

I tried to think of the best way to explain the situation. There wasn't a best way.

I took enough time that Jeff decided to give it his spin.

"I didn't exactly go over there to talk with them. I was ordered.

"So I prepared. We had some rough moments, but I think I finally managed to persuade Mr. Fine of the logic of our getting married.

"Nonetheless, it would be fair to say he didn't accept the situation with unbridled enthusiasm. He still had some reservations."

I couldn't help but laugh.

Everyone looked at me. I had to explain and I didn't want to hide it.

"Jeff has a career in the diplomatic service.

"That's like saying Lee wasn't entirely enthusiastic to fully bask in the glow of surrender at Appomattox.

"My father came out charging like a bull at a trussed matador and Jeff cut him to ribbons.

"My father swaggered in like Custer and Jeff was counting coup long before he finished him off.

"When it was over my father could have done better by getting advice from the French before Dien Bien Phu."

"Ashley," said Jeff.

"When it was over my father flaked like overdone brisket."

"I think they get the idea," said Jeff.

I was barely embarrassed. My father deserved what he got.

Still, I said, "Sorry."

"I wish I'd been there," said Sandy.

"Sandy," said Sunny, sharply.

Sandy rolled her eyes.

"I'm not sure he doesn't have something up his sleeve," said Jeff. "I don't think we'll see anything tomorrow, but at least you have an idea where he's coming from."

This conversation would have caused considerable discomfort at any family dinner table. But the pause was very brief.

Harri asked, "What's your father like, Ashley?"

She was asking politely how he could possibly have an objection and I decided it probably was a bad idea to get carried away complaining that he was such a rotten guy.

"He cares about his business and what people think of him more than he cares about his family. And he really can't stand Jeff."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating just a bit," said Harri.

"No. Jeff really stuck it to him.

"When Dad said he wouldn't pay for the wedding, Jeff told him that was no problem, he'd already taken out a loan. And he would be happy to get them a set of pictures so they could see what their little girl's wedding was like."

"Jeff," Sunny admonished.

"Jeff said he was surprised they wanted to come but it was no problem, we could fit them, just them, into the budget."

"Jeff, you didn't!" scolded Sunny.

"Jeff, that's really not nice," said Harri, but she couldn't maintain her serious demeanor and started to snicker.

"Jeff, you naughty boy," said Sandy before she started to laugh with delight.

The table shook from the explosion of Sam's hand slamming down on it.

There was dead silence until he said, "Boy, you've got quite a set."

Then he dissolved into laughter and everybody joined in, Sunny being the last.

I felt a twinge of disloyalty, but it wasn't much of a twinge.

These people were more supportive than my own family and I felt more confident they would come to my assistance if I were in trouble than my own parents.

Sunny lectured that all of this was private information and nobody was to mention any of this discussion to the Fines.

Jeff said, "You shouldn't have any trouble with Joanne, but Ebenezer has something of a temper.

"Jeff, it's not nice to characterize him as cheap. He doesn't seem to want the wedding at all," said Louis.

"No, his name is Ebenezer, though when Jeff called him that, it was the first time I'd ever heard it. He's either Mr. Fine or E.J."

"Hey, Mom, why don't you call him Ben? E-ben-ezer," said Sandy.

"I thought I taught you better," said Sunny. But I could see a look in her eyes that told me it was a possibility.

"They're our guests," said Harri.

"And we make guests feel welcome," said Sandy and Jeff in unison.

"They're a growin' up, Maw," said Louis.

Sunny rolled her eyes.

Why hadn't my parents said anything?

What was the benefit to them of my being surprised?

Did they think I would need to make excuses for his family in advance so they could stop me by saying, "Let's go out for dinner?"

Sunny mentioned it like she assumed I knew so she relied on them to tell me.

Was this the start of Dad's plan?

Jeff was also a little surprised Dad hadn't tried anything - that we knew of.



-------

Chapter 54


I left for Jeff's at noon. I said, "See you later," as I headed for the door.

"Wait a second, Ashley," my mother called.

"I know. I'm going there now," I said.

My Father had an annoyed look on his face.

Good. I wanted to spend time with the rest of the family. Pissing off my Father was just a bonus.

Harri and Sam gushed over their trip. Sam was excited by what he learned about the cooking. Harri was amazed at the sense of community, the many similarities to living on their commune.

They replayed large portions of the trip and seemed as excited telling it as they must have been living it.

The mood changed as Harri intertwined the fingers of her left hand with my right. She put her right hand on top.

"Ashley, Jeff is terrific and he's only going to get better as he matures. But Jeff is the lucky one. Women with your mind and your heart are very rare. If I had the opportunity to magically pick out a woman for Jeff from all the women I've ever known, and I've known a lot of very wonderful women, you're the one I would pick. I feel as strongly about you for Jeff as I did when I picked my Sam for me."

"I'm still here, you know," said Sam.

I don't know when the first tear started to slide down my cheek, but I had a few now and felt on the precipice of a deluge.

"So you know how I feel about you when I say this," she continued. "Sweetie, your mom and dad are the only parents you'll ever have. I'm not saying they've done a good job. I'm not saying you should forgive anything they've done. I'm just reminding you: they're it.

"That's an important relationship for most people. They may not recognize it and they may not have any plans to repair it; I don't know.

"We just want you to remember that you have the ability to change it. You may not be able to change them, but you can change yourself and that will change the relationship."

"You don't have to do anything," said Sam. "We just believe that when a relationship is troubled, you don't have to wait for something magical to happen. You can talk about it. You can decide what you want from it and you can do something to make that happen.

"You won't always succeed. But you won't have to live with the regret you could have done something if you had only tried."

Harri lifted her right hand and ran it down my hair.

"We love you, sweetie. We'll help you any way we can. Just ask."

I started to cry and collapsed into her embrace. Sam's reassuring hand pressed lightly on my back.

When I settled down, Harri said, "It's time for Ashley and me to talk about a ring."

Sam got the message and left us alone.

"For a project like this, I like the ring to say something about you, about Jeff and about your relationship.

"Most people like to pick out their favorite metals, or jewels or symbols, but I feel if you're going to the effort of designing your own statement, it should be a statement about who you are - not what you like.

"But, it's your ring. I'll make suggestions and ask questions, but who cares what I think? In the end, it's up to you."

I guess it was like the way this family treated misbehavior: We talked about it. Next!

It would take some getting used to.

Harri left me to think about my ring. We'd talk again over the break.

I wandered out into the front hall. Louis was putting on a coat.

"Ashley, would you like to take a walk with me? I've got an exercise program now."

I considered it, nodded slightly and said, "Don't mind if I do."

The air was crisp and the day was bright. We walked briskly.

"You've come a long way Louis. It really scared me, waiting to see how you were and seeing you looking so fragile."

"It meant a lot to me that you came and had such a worried look on your face."

I laughed. "I've had a strong connection with you," I held up my left hand, "since you got me my ring."

"The first time Jeff asked you out and came home so crushed, I was pretty angry. You didn't have to be so callous. But, the truth was, Jeff made a rookie mistake.

"You were so different when he brought you home last Thanksgiving. And with the way you took Sandy under your wing, it was impossible for us not to love you."

I felt my cheeks get hot, no doubt from the physical exertion.

"We're on your side," he said. "If you need to reconnect with your parents, that's fine. If you need to disconnect, that's fine. If you need mediation and we can help, that's fine, we'll help."

Was I going to get this pep talk from each member of the family?

"Thank you."

Then we shared one of the most intense forms of communication. We didn't say anything. We just walked and breathed heavily from the effort, understanding that choosing to do this together was a sufficient statement without the addition of conversation.

When we got back to the house, held out his arms and we hugged.

"Thank you for joining me, Ashley. I enjoyed our walk."

"Me too."

I showered, then took my clothes to Sandy's room. I poked my head in and asked if I could change in there.

Nobody would have minded if I changed in Jeff's room; we had been living together for more than half a year in total and it wasn't a secret.

But, the familiarity hadn't dulled our passion for each other. He would look at my naked body. I would look at him looking at my naked body. He would see my interest.

It's one thing to be comfortable with everyone knowing I was changing in front of Jeff. It's quite another to be moved to close the door and be passionate enough that the entire family could not help but know what we were doing.

"Of course you can come in," said Sandy. "You don't even need to ask. You're my friend, my sister.

"God, you invited me up for Jeff's graduation. I can't begin to tell you how that made me feel. But if you need me to, I will begin."

I looked at her askance as I tried to decide if she was serious. The corners of her mouth twitched upward.

"A nerd with a sense of humor," I said.

"We all have a sense of humor. It's just that very often we're the only ones who understand what we're saying."

We both laughed. It wasn't quite true. She was wrong about how often. There was a lot of Jeff in her.

"So, sis, have you got time this weekend for your second annual makeup training seminar?" I asked.

"Absolutely," she said.

"Saturday, noonish?"

"I'm free."

"Good. Plan on lunch and a few additional hours. I want you to help me pick out your belated sixteenth birthday present."

"Oh boy, that's exciting. For now, I'd better get changed. Your parents should be coming over very soon."

"I'll let you do that." I left to find Sunny or Jeff, the two I hadn't seen today.

I found them along with Sam working in the kitchen.

Sunny noticed me first.

"Sorry I haven't been out to see you," she said. "We'll be done here in a few minutes."

Before those few minutes had passed, the doorbell rang. I sure wasn't going to answer it.



-------

Chapter 55


Sunny hustled by me to the door.

"Joanne, Ben, so nice to finally meet you."

Sam and Jeff had wandered toward the front hall. Harri was coming in from the living room. Sandy and Louis were coming down the stairs.

Everybody saw my Father stiffen up when Sunny said, "Ben."

Sunny stiffened momentarily herself but quickly recovered.

"I hope the traffic wasn't bad with so many people traveling. Here, let me take your coats."

"I'll get them, Mom," said Jeff, friendly and cheerful, too cheerful.

"It's lovely to see you again Joanne, Eh-Ben-E-Zer."

He broke up the syllables differently from the way it should be pronounced so he could emphasize the "Ben." Jeff wanted to remove all doubt as to how Dad had gotten his new name.

That was not just my conclusion. Serious surprise registered on the faces of every member of his family. It sounded mean-spirited to them, a side of Jeff they had never seen.

They hadn't heard the argument behind the soundproof door. Neither had I, but I knew it was bad.

Sandy took it the worst. She had thought he could do no wrong, yet here he was doing wrong. Never again would she be able to answer a charge against him with, "Not Jeff; he couldn't do that," with complete conviction. She was uncharacteristically quiet the rest of the night.

The highlight of the evening was giving thanks before we ate. Every member of Jeff's family gave thanks for "Ashley."

We went around the table clockwise starting with Sunny. She told us she had cut her list down to the most important things, which she went through.

Then, "For my last two, I want to say how thankful I am that Louis was rushed to the hospital so quickly after his heart attack and got the care that has allowed him to start to recover so quickly.

"Thanks to Jeff for strong-arming the hospital staff to let us know what was going on and to use his company's new stent.

"I'm especially thankful for our Ashley who sat with the family while we waited; did everything she could to help and comfort us as if she had always been a member of this family. Ashley would be a blessing to this family even if she didn't have her relationship with Jeff."

In my Father's eyes I caught a flash of surprise. My Mother looked like she couldn't decide whether to risk pride.

"Oh, and I'm thankful we have the opportunity to share Thanksgiving with the Fines. You must be very proud."

They nodded.

Sunny touched Louis' arm and he began. He ran through his list and ended with, "I'm thankful to have Ashley in my life. She's been helpful and supportive. She feels like a daughter to me. I consider her my friend as well."

Harri followed.

As usual, despite trying to cut it short, she took the most time. She, too, closed with me.

"Ashley, you're amazing. I never would have, never could have come up with the Wagon Train trip. If I'd looked through a thousand possibilities, I couldn't have come up with anything better for myself," she paused, looked to her left, "and Sam. It was the most thoughtful gift I ever got.

"When she showed up at the hospital, she put herself forever in my heart. And asking me to help her design her ring, ah, such a wonderful child."

Was this scripted? It still wasn't clear when Sam brought me up at the end of his thanks.

"I'd have been surprised if Ashley hadn't been at the hospital. I met her a year ago. We had a chance to visit while Jeff was working on the gumbo. But the care she took getting us the Wagon Train, the way she found out about us so she could match us up with the gift, told me all I needed to know about her.

"Ashley, I hope to have you at our Thanksgiving table as long as we live."

Mom's look had been evolving and she seemed to be tearing up. I would probably have broken down by this time, but my Father's impassive look toned down the emotion.

"If everybody on the earth could have my family," said Jeff, "there would be no poverty, no war and no crime.

"I, in particular, have been blessed with so many gifts it seems unfair for one person to get them. I hope I can live up to the responsibility that comes with it.

"Then, on top of all that, I get Ashley. I don't want to start talking about how wonderful she is, because I'm getting hungry and I want to eat tonight.

"If anyone has a better life than this, he can keep it. This is the one I want.

"I want to say one last thing for the benefit of the Fines. I don't know if it's completely clear what we're doing here. The only rule is that you speak from your heart. If you don't have something nice to say about someone, you don't say anything.

"So, for example, everything we've said about Ashley is not for her benefit, but our own."

There was no challenge in his tone, just sincerity.

How many words was that? It was like the freaking Gettysburg Address. I'm not sure it even took forty five seconds.

Even my Father seemed to be thinking about what Jeff said. How do you follow that? From your heart, I guess, though I might toss in a little spin for my parents.

"I'm the lucky one. I've added six new best friends. I've become a new person and I'm delighted with the changes. I owe much of that to Jeff. He has no idea how amazing he is.

"He tells me that about myself all the time, and maybe I give it some credence only because Jeff says it, but he is unique.

"In some ways he kind of knows it, and in some ways he hasn't a clue. That's one of the things I love most about him. He just thinks that's how people are supposed to be. And he's that way too, so what's the big deal?"

I looked at him. He blushed. Nobody could mistake the look.

"It is a big deal. Maybe someday you'll understand, but it's okay if you don't.

"I'm getting hungry too, so I'll make this short.

"I appreciate the gifts I've been blessed with, too. I haven't made the best use of them, but I plan to.

"I'm thankful for a home where I never had to want for anything and where I got the background to let me become whatever I wanted to be. I'm thankful my parents got to meet all of you to learn why I think so highly of you. And I'm thankful they've taken an important role in our wedding."

Okay, I broke the rule. It would have been true with slightly different wording, but I couldn't have put the pressure on my parents so effectively if I'd added "because I want something from them" here and there or "except they didn't show me they loved me or even cared about me" to "never having to want for anything."

"I'm going to add to this trend where cutting it short really means cutting it short." Sandy smiled at Harri as she spoke.

"First, about my family: what Jeff said. About the gifts I've been blessed with: what Jeff said.

"Speaking of Jeff, I want to single him out. I couldn't construct a better brother in my mind. I've seen the brothers other people have. Some are pretty good. But Jeff's a freak. It's unnatural to be that nice and that supportive to your sister. I've missed out on the teasing, taunting, abuse, belittling, tattling, all the sibling rivalry. Despite everything he's deprived me of, I'm so thankful for Jeff.

"But he's not a sister. I never had one, until recently. She's been a friend. She's been available to talk to about things she's already experienced.

"She was the one who thought to bring me up early for Jeff's graduation. What other girlfriend would do that?

"She's been a mentor. That lousy brother of mine never gave me a single makeup tip. Even if she didn't make him so happy, Ashley would be a blessing in my life."

I was on the edge of losing it. It wasn't that I felt I didn't deserve all this praise. That's what I felt when they started.

It wasn't praise; it was love. I was being overwhelmed with it. It was frightening, exhilarating.

Then it was my Mother's turn. Her voice caught in her throat.

"I'm thankful I came here tonight. I don't think I appreciated Ashley properly before I saw her through your eyes. I'm grateful I had the opportunity."

I started to cry and shake. I turned to Jeff and his arms were around me.

"She's happy," he said.

I settled down.

That had been courageous. Dad might see it as disloyal to him in front of the enemy. At the moment, though, she seemed satisfied with herself.

"It's been a revelation to me as well," said Ebenezer Jerome Fine, with apparent sincerity.

He was well practiced and unless you suspected him from the start or had seen him many times you would be taken in. His demeanor was correct, his voice appropriately modulated. His body language spoke sincerity. His eyes did not.

"Ashley has always been precious to me. Tonight I realized just how special she is." Blah, blah, blah.

With that we started to eat. It wasn't long before Mom looked toward Sunny and Harri and said, "This turkey is so moist and delicious. Which of you ladies is responsible for this?"

Sunny's face lit up. She turned and nodded to Sam.

"My Dad," she said. "Sam always cooks our turkey. He has to because he won't tell me how he spices it up to taste like this."

"It's fabulous, Sam," said Mom.

"Thank you," he said.

Moments later she said, "The sweet potato is heavenly. You, Sam?"

"No," he said.

She looked questioningly at Sunny and Harri. They shook their heads.

"That would be me," said Jeff. "And they're yams. Sweet potatoes are that sickly yellow inside. Yams are a robust orange. I call this Peared Yams."

"Another one who won't give up his secrets," said Sunny. "He won't tell us what he does with the pears."

My Father had a look of disdain. How unmanly to be doing the cooking for Thanksgiving. That was woman's work, servants work, actually.

He quickly lost the look. It didn't fit his game plan. I noticed he ate with relish.

By the end of the evening there was some rapport between my Mother and Sunny. Mom even seemed taken with Sam and Harri.

Between my Father and the Goldbergs there was pretense.

Despite this, Sunny had managed to craft a deal on the engagement announcement in the Exponent. Jeff had obviously filled her in on what he had told my parents.

I was beginning to share Jeff's concern that my Father would try something to break us apart. Jeff didn't ease my concerns after I kissed him goodnight before heading home.

Again he refused to tell me anything about his cloistered encounter with Dad.



-------

Chapter 56


"I'm a little sleepy," I said. "I was in line at Best Buy at 4:00 in the morning so I could get some really great bargains."

"You did not," said Sandy, in challenging disbelief.

"Of course not. Nobody in my family has ever looked for a bargain in their lives."

We went to the King of Prussia Mall, so many choices.

"You're doing a good job on your makeup," I told her.

"I know. Guys have started noticing me." The way she said it seemed to have extra meaning.

"Anybody special?" I asked.

"Jake Canyon."

"I don't know him."

"He's our quarterback. We're not very good, but he's very popular and he is a hottie."

Uh, oh.

"What's he like?" I asked.

"I don't know him very well. But he smiles at me and he follows me with his eyes and I see him looking at me all the time."

"Is he with other girls when he does any of this?"

"Yeah, some of the time. Sometimes he's with the guys."

"But he hasn't come over and talked to you?" I asked.

"Not yet. But it's just a matter of time."

"Has Sunny talked to you about this?"

"Please. I haven't told her. Not everybody babbles like Jeff. When he babbles," she tried to correct herself. "He doesn't babble, he's just, too open. You really can't be that open with your Mom."

That wasn't the issue I wanted to argue.

"Did Sunny ever talk to you about jocks, hotties, the popular crowd, quarterbacks?"

"As if," she said. "The only quarterbacks Mom met were the ones she tutored."

I took a deep breath.

"You know how I feel about you, Sandy. I think you're beautiful, brilliant, funny and a sweet soul. I love having you in my life. Some day those kids may too, if you have any interest in hanging out with them.

"I was one of them. Don't forget how I treated Jeff back then. The only thing important to me was me. If I was thinking about associating with you, I would look at it in terms of what it did for me.

"This guy may think you're hot. He may really like you in his mind, even though he hasn't met you so he couldn't possibly have any idea how terrific you are.

"He may grow up to be a wonderful guy some day. But, considering the genetic good fortune he's had, the athletic success, the friends he's made, the people who suck up to him, the odds are when he's gotten all the me stuff he can out of you, he'll have no further use for you and he'll dump you without a thought.

"I'm not saying this because I think there's anything wrong with you. I'm saying it because I'm betting there's something wrong with him."

I paused to assess her reaction. She didn't seem too receptive.

"You don't have to listen to what I'm telling you, Sandy, but I like you too much to let you go out there without at least a warning."

She wasn't taking it well. I could see she wasn't far from tears. I closed the gap and took her in my arms. We rocked.

I spoke very softly. "Sandy, if your friend isn't willing to tell you you've got a booger hanging out of your nose, she isn't worth having as a friend. You have to be willing to say something that may seem harsh to protect your friends."

She took a moment.

"You're right. We're not always enthusiastic about telling each other the truth in this family, but we're not afraid either."

"I seem to recall you're not exactly shy about being forthright yourself."

"I have my moments," she said, smiling.

"I know you're probably not going to take my advice. Nobody seems to want to take advantage of somebody else's terrible experiences to avoid their own suffering. But I feel better having warned you."

"You're forgiven," she said.

I gave her a remonstrative look.

"Sorry, thank you for your brutal honesty." She giggled.

"And now I'm going to give aid and comfort to the enemy. Let's buy you some clothes to make you look irresistible."

Sandy squealed.

We got her a basic black dress, the keystone of any wardrobe. Her body looked sensational wearing it. Along with her flawless skin and skillful makeup I informed her of the image she presented.

"Hot," I said, but it took around two seconds to get that "sentence" out.

I bought her a few more dazzling items before she started to complain I was spending too much.

"You've never been to my house," I said.

It was a cross between a question and an explanation.

She shook her head.

"It's time to correct that."

I wanted her to see my closet. I kind of expected an, "Oh, my God," but she just walked around with her mouth open. She was so overwhelmed by the magnitude of my wardrobe she couldn't come up with a single word.

She pawed through dresses, skirts and blouses. She lovingly fondled shoes. She carefully picked up pocketbooks as if they were sacred objects.

When she was finally ready, albeit reluctantly, to leave the temple of my closet, I asked, "We good?"

Sandy nodded, her mouth still open.

When I dropped her off we shared a meaningful hug.

The meaning it had to me led me to start calling to talk to Sandy on a regular basis.



-------

Chapter 57

I did some additional shopping for Chanukah on my own that weekend both over the phone and on the internet.

The items arrived the following Wednesday while Jeff was at class, which he was pretty much all day, every day.

I cleared space in the spare bedroom and the delivery men set everything up as I had arranged.

When Jeff got home, I met him at the door and gave him an ardent kiss.

"Trying to get me not to study tonight?" he asked.

"Not at all; just welcoming home the man I love."

"What's up?" he asked suspiciously.

I couldn't blame him. This was the first time I'd greeted him that way.

I took his hand and led him through the living room.

"I'm giving you your Chanukah present early." I used my coquettish voice.

I took him to the spare bedroom. We had not anointed that room yet.

He looked at me quizzically.

"My present is a weight machine with a two-hundred-twenty-pound stack, a bench and a collection of dumbbells?"

"Yes!"

"You shouldn't have."

It was neutral. It could have meant he was thrilled. It could have meant why did I do this to him.

"I confess. It's my present even more. But you're the one who is going to use it. This is non-negotiable. Heart disease runs in your family. I won't marry a guy who isn't committed to giving me a golden anniversary."

Jeff's eyes darted up, to the side, down, at me, and his face went through a series of expressions. I couldn't help it; I started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"It was almost like a cartoon. I could see the thoughts pass across your face.

"'Does she really expect me to do this? How much time will I have to put in a day? Would she really call off the wedding if I don't? Am I willing to risk that? No.

"'Can I argue terms? Is she really being unreasonable? Maybe I should look at this as a gesture of love rather than an assertion of control. If I let her get away with this, am I going to be giving in for the rest of our lives?

"'What makes her think she has the right to do this? No, she's doing this because she's concerned; she wants to make sure I stay healthy.'"

Jeff started to laugh before I was halfway through. He walked over to me, put his arms around me and squeezed.

"You're a very special woman. Scary sometimes, but special nonetheless. When did you learn to read my mind?"

"It comes with a personal trainer," I said.

Jeff snorted.

"The yoga, I'm doing with you," I said. "Our mats are over there in the corner."

"Have we been granted dispensation not to attend school anymore?"

I patted his back.

"We'll work it in, Dr. G."

His eyes looked up again. He had a pensive look. I laughed.

He gave me a look of resignation.

"All right, I'll do it."

"You know," I said, "you haven't had any training yet. It could be dangerous to just start in on this without training."

I slid my hand down his back and fondled a cheek.

"But I do want you to start on a program of exercise right away."

I pressed against him and rubbed the other cheek.

"So it will be my responsibility to come up with a suitable regimen for later this evening, after dinner has settled."

Jeff smiled. "I have complete faith in your judgment."

I pushed him down on the bed. We had to anoint this room eventually. This seemed as good a time as any. Quick and dirty.

I tried to balance the enjoyment with our need to get some studying done. Essentially, I tried to make him completely forget he had a need to study.

When we finished I thought about how to make him associate this room with something more fun than working out. And it hit me.

I got up and took his hand. I walked him to my yoga mat, picked it up and unrolled it on the floor. Then I slowly stripped.

"Do you typically do yoga naked?"

"No. But you're a beginner. You need to build up to the ability to do it with clothes on."

"I may grow to like working out," he said.

I helped him strip off his clothes. He had indeed grown to like the idea of working out with me.

I leaned forward and started to bend at the waist.

"This is a position from which many of the exercises flow."

I bent my knees and lowered my hands to the floor and moved my feet back a few steps. I lowered my head and back.

"This is called down dog. It might be a little complicated for you to try as your first position."

I turned my head to glance back at him standing behind my raised butt.

"Can you think of any position that might be comfortable for you to try?"

I thought there was a good chance he would move underneath me. He smiled and moved behind me.

Jeff called the position he invented hump dog.



-------

Chapter 58


"Who are you?" said Jen.

"What do you mean?"

"Straight A's two semesters running? And you lost about a week and a half when you were sick and more time when Jeff's father had his heart attack. You're a serious damn student. What happened to the hottest girl this campus has ever seen?"

I smiled. "She upgraded to a multidimensional personality."

"Impressive. How did Jeff do?"

I chortled and gave her that what-do-you-think look.

"I thought he had a huge load. Didn't that give him any trouble?"

"Not with getting grades," I said. "But I didn't exactly get to see as much of him as I wanted. And he's working over the break, so I only see him at night or on weekends."

"It so sucks to be you," she said with as much insincerity as she could muster.

I leaned my head back, put the back of my right hand lightly against my forehead and adopted a slightly pained look on my face.

"One does what one must," I said in an almost ethereal voice I had heard often enough to mimic with precision. "You know, Noblesse oblige." I think I mixed in a little Katherine Hepburn on that.

Jen started to laugh. "You should have been an actress. I'm sorry you're having problems with your Mother, but you are damn funny."

We had gotten together a lot over the winter break. Rich and Jeff worked during the day, though Rich had saved some of his days off to be with Jen while she was on break. Jeff didn't have days off to save.

"It's not all her. I think a lot of it is my Father. He seems to want things just so and she doesn't put up much resistance. I wish I knew what he was planning."

"Maybe he has reconciled himself to this happening. He might just be trying to position it the best way he can for his business."

"You're such a Pollyanna," I said with exasperation. Maybe I should become an actress. I seemed to have a different tone and expression for each sentence.

I didn't understand this from Jen. From Sunny it made some sense. She liked to try to find some good in everyone. From Sandy it would be expected. She was quite a bit like Jeff, assuming the best of people until they demonstrated they were not to be trusted. Jeff, at least, was developing some skepticism as he saw people misbehave.

Jen responded to my body language.

"You do know him better than I do. People can change, you know."

I made a doubtful face.

"I know this girl who used to think of nobody but herself. She was into status and prestige and control. She used people all the time. She took advantage of people. She really didn't have any friends.

"Then one day she meets this strange guy."

"Stop," I said. "I've heard this story before. This is that classic: Cinderella's step sister and the beast."

Jen spit laughed. "And she had very little sense of humor. To make a long story short, she's even been seen doing nice things for other people without asking for anything in return. And you don't think people can change?"

I thought about it.

"Well, humans can change. My Father on the other hand -"

"Do you think anyone would have said the same thing about ... this girl?"

Jeff has noted on numerous occasions that humor can ease the discomfort and apprehension enough to lead to serious discussions of difficult issues that would otherwise degenerate into a struggle for personal power. Whenever he said that I told him he was wrong. Humor makes people lighten up.

I had pressed myself to finish my requirements so my final semester would be courses of my choosing. I didn't know what to choose so I kicked it around with Jen.

I asked her about what she had learned over the summer as well as what she had learned from her courses. I relentlessly pressed her for details.

"You know, Ashley, maybe I was wrong. You have me take a boatload of courses and teach over the summer for the sole purpose of being able to give you an executive summary."

It was tongue in cheek, but there was also a measure of seriousness in her accusation. Well, I had one freaking semester to figure out what I wanted to do and learn everything I could. I would take any help and any shortcut I could.

Don't get me wrong. I liked Jen and enjoyed spending time with her. But, I had set my eyes on a goal and I was damn well going to accomplish it if I could ever figure out what it was.

I spent time with Sunny over the break as well. I liked her and she was fun to talk with. I asked her to help me figure out what to do. She wanted to know what I wanted to accomplish.

"What is it you want from a job? For example, I know how much you enjoy finding just the right presents for people. In fact, I don't know that I've seen anyone better at it. If your goal is to be able to work to make people happy there are a lot of things you can do.

"If your goal is to try to save the planet there are a host of jobs that fill the bill.

"If you want to make the world more peaceful, there are many ways to pursue that, not the least of which is education.

"What makes you happy?"

I shrugged. "I never thought of it that way. I guess I can't and wouldn't want to try to make Jeff a career."

Sunny smiled at that. "A husband can be quite a time-consuming avocation."

"I liked working with kids, the little I did with Jen. I like working to make things happen where I have an idea how to use what power I have or am perceived to have. And I got such a jolt out of seeing Jeff wield his power pretty much out of nowhere."

Sunny had a wry smile.

"I think I know, maybe knew, Jeff best and I didn't see that coming. It was a complete surprise," she said.

"Yeah. He's made my life a lot more difficult. I have to do so much more thinking."

"You poor thing," Sunny said."

"I want to do something to make things better. I don't know what that is yet, but I want to help."

Sunny shook her head from side to side, still smiling.

"You're pretty surprising yourself and it's a delightful surprise."

With all the people who believed in me I thought it a distinct possibility I could wind up believing in myself. On the issue of career, however, I had narrowed it down to almost anything.

Sandy gave me the most Jeff-like advice.

"Make a list, well, it will have to be a multi-column list, you might want to put it in a database, maybe something like Access or maybe just Excel. Anyway, put down the stuff you like to do, the stuff that makes you happy, the stuff that doesn't make you unhappy and what kinds of careers they would be useful in.

"You also want to put down the things you are good at even if they don't make you happy, in fact, even if they annoy you a little. Sometimes they can get you such a good result that it's worth taking the psychological hit for the big win.

"Maybe you could visualize yourself doing various things and imagine what it would feel like."

She looked at me and laughed.

"You're ready to scream, aren't you?" she asked.

I laughed.

"Just start to write stuff down. Review it now and then. There's a good chance something will come to you. I think that's what makes up intuition. You subconsciously collect a lot of information without knowing what to do with it. And eventually, your subconscious starts to recognize some patterns and finally you somehow just know what you're supposed to do or how you're supposed to act."

So, in the time I spent alone during the break I started to do an inventory.

I like to make people happy. Well, some people. I like to put thought into it. If it were easy, anybody could do it.

I like to be supportive. More accurately I like people supporting me enough that I would gladly go out of my way to support others.

I liked getting my way. I used to like getting my way because it was my way. I guess I still did some. But I especially liked getting my way in situations where I knew what to do or how to do it. I liked the idea of meeting up against institutional or irrational resistance and turning it around.

I thought about how effective Jeff had been, so far, in getting our way with my parents and wondered if all this way getting had a common theme I could learn to use.

After I mostly abandoned my imperious approach I discovered I had good interpersonal skills and seemed to know instinctively how to persuade people.

Armed with all this information it might have been a good idea to go to a career counselor.



-------

Chapter 59


My final semester was my busiest.

Jeff's trainer helped me develop my own strength training program which I followed with dedication. I wasn't in bad shape but I wanted to show Jeff I supported him.

I called Sandy at least once a week just to chat. Jen and I were getting together regularly as well.

After only twenty-one years I had real friends.

I guess I had to count Sunny in that category too.

I spoke regularly with my mother about wedding plans. Then I would call Sunny to settle me down because it was more my parents' wedding than mine.

The funny thing was, had I not met Jeff and been changed by him I would have been a harridan. No detail of the wedding would have been too insignificant for me not to have my way.

Occasionally I would ask Jeff's opinion. He would always tell me to do whatever made me happy; he was getting to marry me and that was enough for him.

I was pretty sure it was sincere and not just the diplomatic version of, "I don't care."

It might not have mattered if he did care. He had no time to express an opinion.

With his workouts added to his school work, he was exhausted much of the time.

His feelings for me hadn't changed. We cuddled every night. But he rarely had the energy for more than that.

Wasn't this supposed to happen ten to fifteen years down the road when he was fighting to reach his appropriate level of management and I was running around after the kids while trying to have a career?

If this was what marriage was going to be like, I wasn't sure I wanted to be married. How many times had I had that thought lately?

Spring break was approaching and I was reviewing the semester in the kitchen. Jeff was studying in the workout room. I heard the bell ring and went to the front door to answer it.

I was greeted by the sight of Jeff's faculty advisor. He had brought a buddy with him - the president of the university. I couldn't imagine what they were doing here and it made me a little nervous.

"Please come in," I said.

I didn't want to appear unsettled so I thought about how Jeff might handle this. I decided he would do it with humor.

"It's about time," I said. "Three and a half years I've been here and finally you come to see me."

That drew laughs from both of them after a slight hesitation to assess whether I was serious. My acting skills were unparalleled.

"Yes," said the president. "But I can see you've got everything under control. As long as we're here, perhaps we could speak with Jeff as well."

I chuckled. "Please sit down. I'll get him."

"Who was it?" he asked as I came into the room.

"You're in big trouble. You didn't listen to the wisdom of your faculty advisor and not only has he returned to get you in line, he brought reinforcements."

"Who was it really?"

"Your faculty advisor and the president of the university."

He got up slowly with a look of concern and disbelief.

They exchanged greetings and Malcolm, Jeff's advisor, said, "You're welcome to stay, Ashley."

"Like there's any chance you could keep me away."

Malcolm said, "Jeff, we've been trying to figure out what to do with you."

"What to do with me?"

Malcolm looked at Dr. Lloyd who barely shook his head. I understood it to mean he wasn't ready to speak.

Malcolm continued, "After we spoke last time I decided to follow up. You didn't seem to make any changes. The students still weren't that happy with you. The assistants were still complaining and that's in spite of you taking some time where you didn't come to classes.

"It seemed like a good idea to follow up with the professors and I discovered some interesting things.

"For one, there were a few students who had indicated to the assistants that some of the things you talked about actually helped them to understand what was going on. Some asked you questions outside of class and you showed no reluctance to help them."

"Why would I have any reluctance to help anyone?"

"Not everybody is like you Jeff," I said. "Many people see that as giving away an advantage."

Jeff looked confused. He had no concept of normal.

Malcolm wore a bemused smile. "In any event, it seems you were trying to be helpful while you were inadvertently muddying the waters. As you're probably aware, professors regularly check in on the assistants to make sure things are going smoothly.

"A number of them told me you added quite a bit to the classes; not always as much as you detracted, but significant nonetheless. Dr. Lloyd?"

"I talked with all your professors, Jeff. I've never heard anything like it. Each one, on his or her own, said it was pointless for you to take finals. You demonstrated mastery in class far beyond anything they hoped to impart. And they marveled at your finals and papers for the fall semester.

"As much as they knew of you and expected of you, they were awed by your work.

"So, the first part of what I have to say to you is congratulations. You have finished all your coursework for your Ph.D. and all you have to do is defend your dissertation."

"I don't have to do any work or study or anything?" asked Jeff.

"You just have to follow the strictest standard available: do what you think you should."

He got that right. There might be people who groused about how Jeff did things or how it made other people feel when he did things his way, but he had no harsher critic than himself.

"We've assembled your committee and I'm afraid here again you've gone beyond expectations. We have all read your supplemental materials which, in theory you have to defend. The thing is, with the statistics you have provided and the results of the program series you ran on historic disease mutations nobody has any real questions except how the hell did you do it.

"Whether any of that is proprietary information to Second Foundation is irrelevant to that question. Even if you could detail every aspect of your approach, none of us would understand it."

"Amen to that," said Malcolm.

"I've discussed this with the board and, with their approval, this is what I'd like to suggest. First, you have earned your Ph.D. You don't have to do anything further. Second, don't return to class as a student. You're not a student; you're a graduate. Third, we would like you to take on the role of a professor. Pick some subset of the classes you were taking and try to come up with as many lectures as you reasonably can to enhance the students' understanding.

"I believe this will be no problem for you since you have already put in so much effort to assist your classmates when they requested help."

"Dr. Lloyd," I said, "I just want to clarify what you are asking. When you say as many lectures as he reasonably can prepare, you are not telling him to burn the midnight oil as well as the candle at both ends, are you?"

Both Malcolm and Dr. Lloyd had a good laugh at that one.

"Jeff, Dr. Goldberg, I defer to the terms negotiated by your agent. I had no intention of asking you to put in absurd hours. I want to stay on your good side. There's another aspect to this.

"We'd like you to develop a course you can teach here next year. We want you on staff. I know about your contract with Second Foundation. Plan it however you like. You can have it run all day several weekends, a day a week, every other week, any way you like. You can even have some sessions off campus if that makes it possible for you to accommodate our objective. We feel you have something unique to offer our students."

Jeff seemed almost dazed. Any part of this would have been entirely unexpected. All of it together was so shocking it was difficult to imagine how to develop a context for it let alone give an answer.

"That's okay," said Dr. Lloyd. "I understand this was somewhat of a surprise. It must be very difficult to come up with an answer without taking some time to think about it. And you certainly have to talk with your employer to determine if it is feasible. I didn't expect an immediate answer."

"Well, I do have a lot to think about for the long term. With respect to your request that I prepare some material for the remainder of the semester, I would be happy to do that. Thank you for all your generosity. I am deeply appreciative."

"You have earned it all, sir," said Dr. Lloyd.

"That you have," said Malcolm.

Holy shit thought me.

As we saw them out I was thinking about how I was going to explain this all to Jeff.



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Chapter 60

I had worked out that changing my major was not going to happen. I wasn't going to be able to take enough credits in one semester to graduate in anything but my original major. That didn't stop me from taking anything I wanted.

I had a good idea what I wanted to do. I didn't know if there was such a profession nor how to pursue it whether there was or not. I recognized I had developed a lot of skills in persuading people. For most of my life it seemed to come naturally.

I picked out courses that included psychology to figure out why people do things, sociology to figure out how they could be motivated to do things in groups they might well not do on their own, and advertising to learn more about motivation and spin, thought that was a skill at which I was quite adept.

No course could cover the material I wanted to know, so I took a key lesson from Jeff: I went to the library to fill in whatever I thought I needed. I read a few books on persuasion. I read enough to understand that people responded to motivation much better than they did to persuasion, even if it was the exact same thing.

This semester was as different as it was possible to be from my entire school career. I had heard about this kind of thing, but I didn't think anybody did it except Jeff. I took those courses and read those books because I wanted to learn. I really didn't much care how I did as long as I learned. I reveled in learning. Me; Ashley. Go figure.

"That was so nice of them," said Jeff when Malcolm and Dr. Lloyd left. "I can't believe the time and effort they've put in for my benefit. I'm overwhelmed that they would put themselves out for me this way."

"I don't think you were listening," I said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Let me see if I can paraphrase it in a way you can understand, and I don't mean to demean your intelligence in any way when I say that. Only a complete moron would make any effort to do that. But, Mr. Bill, there are some things you don't understand.

"A mind like yours comes along only once in ... I don't even know how long. It's rare enough that they don't expect to ever see one again.

"I know they made accommodations for you from setting up your scholarship to arranging for this academic year. And now they're offering something very attractive. They may very well be nice, caring people. That's not why they're doing it.

"You're not a hot commodity; there is only one of your ilk. You are a unique asset to a university. Imagine a university that could say, 'We've got Isaac Newton on our staff.' It would attract the top students; give them unmatched prestige."

"I'm not exactly Isaac Newton."

"No, you're not. He had peers doing the same kinds of work. Who else is doing what you do? Who else has even thought of it? How many people could even understand it, let alone come up with the concept and build it?"

The poor guy was way beyond blushing. If I could have read his mind I would have heard something like it's no big deal; it's just what I do.

"What they are trying to do is to lock down an asset before anybody else has a chance to recognize its value and make a competing offer."

"You're being awfully cynical."

"No. He called you Dr. Goldberg, and not the way I mean it. You don't have the degree yet. You'll get it, but you don't have it. He wanted to give you a signal of according you status.

"He called you 'sir.' He knows you as Jeff, but he called you 'sir.' He's older than your Dad, but he called you 'sir.' You're nineteen years old and he called you 'sir.' That was no accident.

"You don't get to be a university president on academic talent alone. You need promotional and marketing skills. As of today you're Professor Goldberg. He's selling you the honor and prestige of becoming an important academic bulwark of the university. But he's thinking of the endowments the university will get as a result of your association. He's very astute.

"My Father thinks of you as not being useful or worthy of being associated with. Dr. Lloyd thinks my Father's friends will give generously and frequently to be associated with you.

"There's nothing wrong with what he's offering you. I just want you to understand: it isn't generosity for which you should be 'deeply appreciative'; it's a business deal. It is flattering because he recognizes your true value. But it's a business deal."

"No..."

Then his eyes did their thing, searching for a response. He considered what I said for around thirty seconds.

"Who are you? I'm beginning to wonder if I'm the talent."

My skin got red. My heart fluttered. I got light-headed. Was there any limit to what a person could accomplish with somebody like Jeff in their corner?

I couldn't think of anything on topic to say, so I went with, "I'm going to get in some more studying before I start to get ready to go home for the break."

Jeff looked at me with awe as I walked calmly to the kitchen. I looked calm on the outside. Inside, I was jumping up and down like a little dog excited to see her best friend coming home from work.

I settled down at the table and decided this would be a good time to start The Art of War. It would probably come in handy when I settled on what I wanted to do. It might even provide me with tools to take on my Father. Studying could be so much fun.

I had decided to become Ashley Goldberg, Advocate for ... I had no idea. There were so many projects that needed a good advocate. I couldn't decide which were most important. It would also be wise to try to find one early on at which I stood a good chance of being successful. While failure usually provides much better lessons than success, it wasn't the best way to create supportive word-of-mouth advertising.

I came up with an idea that let me take on my first project the next day. It was everything I hoped for.

I couldn't wait to tell Jeff. But I would wait for the most opportune time.



-------

Chapter 61


For those of you who have not had the benefit of being swaddled with Yiddish, here are some handy translations of words you will find in this chapter.

Haggadah, a book that tells the story of Passover ranging from a small pamphlet designed to make it easy for young children to understand to a tome appropriate to a year-long course at the seminary

Tsouris, trouble, like you wouldn't believe

Oi, OMG like you wouldn't believe

Mahoff, a VIP like you wouldn't believe

Seder, the dinner celebrating Passover

-------

I stopped off at Jeff's house on the way back from school. We would both need cars over the break.

My top priority was to talk with Sandy. I didn't relish the conversation.

"Sandy, I barely have time to breathe this week. I have two showers, our family dinner, the second night of Passover with your family and so many arrangements to go over. I can't see how I'm going to be able to fit your shower in between now and graduation.

"I'm really sorry. Of all the people who are going to be involved, you're my favorite."

She took a breath. She looked disappointed, but not as much as I had expected.

"It's okay, Ashley. I know you were looking forward to it and I know how you feel about me. But, I insist on planning the first baby shower."

"Whoa up there little crazy girl. That's not exactly on the front burner."

"I didn't say next week for God's sake."

"Sorry. With everything else going on that scared the crap out of me coming out of nowhere."

"Sorry." She dragged it out and didn't look the least bit sorry. I was sure she got a kick out of hitting a nerve and I expected to be needled about this frequently in the future.

"I would like you to join me for as much of this week's folderol as you can. I need an ally."

She beamed.

"Sign me up."

Sunny was home and joined us. I was confused and unsettled. She was likely the perfect person to talk with.

"I'm starting to have second thoughts about the wedding," I said.

Both their faces took on expressions of shock and horror.

"No, not that. I'm having no second thoughts about the marriage, just the wedding."

Their relief was almost comical. Then Sunny got a suspicious look in her eyes.

"No. I didn't do that on purpose. I think I can give you a good idea pretty quickly. The guest list has reached eleven hundred seventy-three and that's with my Mom trying to keep it down, not so much because they care about cost, but if it gets much bigger they're going to have to try to get the Convention Center. No place else will be big enough.

"I used a calculator. If I spend just ten seconds with each guest, that's over three hours and fifteen minutes just saying thank you for coming.

"Then there's table duty. I have to do the grand tour. 'Are you having a good time? Oh, yes, we're leaving tomorrow for a fun-filled week in Camden. Yes, the salad was amazing. Thank you so much for your thoughtful gift. The dishes are perfect. We now have enough to have a small third-world country over for dinner. By, the way, who the hell are you?'"

I had gotten carried away. I hadn't even realized Sandy and Sunny were laughing. Both had tears streaming down their cheeks.

"And, of course, I'll have to spend more time with people I actually know. I figure that averages out conservatively to two minutes a table. We've already got around one hundred-fifty tables so that's three-hundred minutes, or five hours.

"Almost eight and a half hours are accounted for and I haven't gotten to eat or drink or dance with Jeff. The band will already be on several hours overtime before I even get to cut the cake."

They hadn't stopped.

"Laugh all you want. I'm absolutely serious! I may be laughing on the outside, but..." I started to laugh myself. "This is insane. This is going to be larger than the graduating class at most colleges."

Sunny caught her breath.

"Ashley, you should consider going into standup as a profession."

"Yeah, that's the perfect way to win your Dad over," Sandy chimed in.

We joked around for a while, laughing ourselves silly and cathartic.

I still managed to leave before Jeff got home. I had two days to prepare my campaign.

We were seated around the Goldberg's table for the first night of Passover. My family's tradition was to ignore any mention of the reason for the holiday and get to the food.

Most families read the story from a Haggadah, especially when the children are young to ensure they get the essence of the story.

Big surprise, Jeff's family had altered the tradition. Each family member picked their own part of the story to tell as they chose. Mere recitation was not encouraged. The story had to be told metaphorically or allegorically or at least with some emphasis on some situation going on in the world that could be improved.

I chose very carefully.

"Pharaoh had a lot of reasons to be peeved with Moses. After all, Moish got tired of the rules and wanted things to change. He was getting ready to leave the game and take all his marbles home."

The Goldbergs all had smiles of amusement, meaning I was doing their tradition proud. My parents were not far from aghast.

"Here he is, cock of the roost and he's getting major guff from this snot-nosed kid. He doesn't dress right. He doesn't speak right. He doesn't act right. Where is the deference Pharaoh is due?

"But, worst of all, Pharaoh thinks Moses is after his daughter. Well, you all know what kind of tsouris that can be. Such a deal he could get for her. He could marry her off to the Opecites. He could marry her off to the Halliburtites. He could marry her off to the Bankites. And oi, what a deal he could get.

"But Moses, what does he have to offer?

Sandy was almost apoplectic. She had tried valiantly to just sit there smiling quietly, but she had lost it.

"Little does Pharaoh know Moses was going to become such a big mahoff."

I whipped my right hand up in the air clutching a piece of paper.

"That's Dr. Moses, thank you."

There was quite a commotion as everyone else registered various degrees of shock, including Jeff. He had no idea what I'd done. As they settled down, I continued before anyone could get in a question.

"That's also Professor Moses."

I held up the employment contract Dr. Lloyd gave me at our meeting after I called him. I had told him we both knew how valuable Jeff was and that he was leaning toward taking their offer.

I told Dr. Lloyd that, knowing Jeff, actually having the Degree in his hand and a written offer from which to negotiate the fine points would make him feel he had no choice but to accept the offer.

It was total bullshit. I knew we would be getting together for the seder and wanted to be able to let Jeff's family know what was happening. They already knew how amazing he was.

I also wanted something to club my Father over the head with. Amusingly, when he heard the news, he looked dazed; as if he had literally been hit over the head with a club. He had practically mocked Jeff's ability to get a Ph.D. in a year. Here it was not even seven full months and Jeff had his degree.

Not only that, he was no longer a student. He was faculty.

I put a hand on Jeff's cheek.

"And you may correctly suppose I'm going to follow this Moses of mine."

"I'm not going to Siberia," said Jeff.

"Are we doing Fiddler?" Sandy asked.

I was so happy I didn't worry about how happy I was or even qualify it.



-------

Chapter 62


"You're doing it," Sandy said.

"Oops."

I was lapsing into my Katherine Hepburn voice again. It was getting easier as the evening progressed.

I used to handle these things effortlessly. I was playing a role and it was just another acting gig. Collect information from the other participants which I could use when appropriate.

Tonight I was in a leading role and I hadn't taken the time to prepare for it.

The shower was being given by a gaggle of women somehow associated with my father or mother or his business interests. I didn't know them and could barely remember their names. Sandy was helping me, feeding me names as women came up to me, like a brilliant aide to an unctuous politician.

The irony was: this was a skill I would need to master to succeed in my hoped-for business. It was bad business not to "remember" who somebody was or who they were related to or what they did or what they espoused. I didn't have to agree, but it was essential that I remember.

There was another amusing irony. There was one politician whose skills in these areas were legendary and those skills were an important part of what made him so charismatic: William Jefferson Clinton. Jeff wasn't named for him, but nobody could keep a straight face when they heard William Jefferson Goldberg for the first time.

Sandy was ostensibly taking down names and gifts associated with them so I could write thank-you notes. I couldn't begin to imagine how long that would take. She was also taking down information about the people so I could play my role more effectively.

I had a spare moment to unwind, but I couldn't manage it.

"Sandy, let me ask you a philosophical question."

She had a curious yet amused look. She was really getting to know the new me.

"What does one do with twenty-seven water pitchers, the least expensive of which costs about the same as a laptop computer?"

She almost broke into a snort, but it wasn't at my question.

"Whatever one wants."

I followed that with a snort laugh.

"Not all that helpful," I said.

"I don't have any experience with that."

"I caught the tail end of that," said Jen. "Didn't you have a registry? How do you get twenty-seven water pitchers?"

"Well, that may not be the exact count, but twenty-seven captures the essence of the situation. And the way you get that many pitchers is you fill out your registry on the assumption that no more than three hundred fifty people will be coming to your wedding; not the entire village."

"Even if you could return twenty-two or twenty-three, which ones do you keep?" asked Jen. "You need to have the pitchers you got from people who may come over your house. How do you explain you returned their lovely gift because you ran out of attic space to store it against the possibility they might visit?

"And do you have any idea how long it would take to return twenty-some pitchers?"

"Now there's an entrepreneurial opportunity," I joked. "Start a firm that returns shower, wedding and baby gifts for people so inundated it's beyond their capacity to do it themselves."

"Is that a hint?" asked Jen.

"No, she says she's not even close to considering children," said Sandy.

"That's going to be an entertaining conversation with Jeff," said Sunny who had just joined us.

"I'm glad you're all having fun with this," I said. "Does anybody else want to weigh in on this?"

That was when I saw my mother walking my way. My entourage followed my gaze and started to giggle.

Sandy said, "That's why I try never to say it can't get any worse."

"I didn't say that."

"But you were thinking it."

"How did you become so wise all of a sudden?" I asked.

"If you hang around my family enough something's bound to rub off."

"Ashley, I have someone I'd like you to meet," said my mother.

Sandy followed us so she could continue to take notes.

"This sucks," I said quietly to Sandy.

"Mrs. Fine, could I have just a minute with Ashley?" she asked.

"Just a minute," my mother answered.

"What!?" I said to Sandy.

"Do something about it," she said quietly.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. But then, I'm not Ashley Fine. If I were, the whole thing would be handled by now."

That arrogant, presumptuous ... young lady was spot on. Whoever I was now, the Ashley Fine I used to be would have decided what she wanted and made it happen.

"Come Grasshopper, we have work to do." I learned it from Jeff. I figured if he knew, she would also. She didn't question it.

Jen had a more normal upbringing than I did, but that wasn't saying much. Sandy was on my side, but she was so seriously lacking in experience she couldn't possibly have the judgment to help.

Sunny was my best choice.

On the surface it was an odd choice. She had grown up as a hippie. She had matured as an academic. In her personal life she didn't appear to make decisions about how much to compromise. She felt no need to play by social rules. She would tell you how she felt and explain why it was okay. She showed no disapproval of your way or think any less of you for it. It was just how she was and she was sorry to make it difficult for you.

She had to play those games in her career so she not only had that experience, but understood the rules. Despite removing herself from those situations as much as she could, she seemed to have a good understanding of how to navigate them.

It wasn't like I had a large group of people to choose from, but I would probably get good advice from Sunny. I took her aside as the shower was winding down.

"I'm not sure what I want or how I feel. I am sure about some of the things I don't want. I'd like some help figuring out what I want and how to get it."

"If that's all you're asking it shouldn't be a problem," said Sunny.

I spent a fraction of a second deciding whether she was serious. She wasn't.

I told Sunny about my meeting with Dr. Lloyd so she would understand I was willing to take a practical approach when appropriate. Beyond that she realized I had little more experience than Jeff.

"I'm really bothered that everything is being arranged without any consideration for what I want or would like. Most girls spend a lot of time planning and trying to make everything perfect for their wedding. I don't feel I'm getting so much as to pick one from column A and two from column B. It's like it isn't even about me.

"I talk with my mother about it, but it's like she doesn't even hear me. All she knows how to do is carry out my father's instructions.

"I understand the concept of inviting friends of the family and some key business associates, but this is so heavily tilted towards business I don't think the IRS would have a second thought about my dad deducting the entire thing.

"I wanted a wedding; not a convention."

"Why don't you express your feelings to your mother?"

"I have. She doesn't listen to me."

"You've weighed in on specific items. You've told her what you would like about this and that. You haven't told her how you feel about this situation and that you want to have a say, have you?"

"Any time I've ever said anything like that to either one of them they know best. They just tell me how to feel and what I should, no, must do."

"Joanne and I have been having regular discussions and I think she's starting to change her thinking. She was really impressed when I explained how Jeff took control over the head nurse and Louis' doctor. And she was amazed that a part-time employee had the influence to call his CEO and get things done.

"She's been talking about standing up to your father on some of the wedding plans. The problem is she doesn't know which things are most important to you. She's afraid to bring it up with you because you two haven't been very close. She's worried if it doesn't go right she might lose you forever."

"I never imagined." I could scarcely believe it. Did my mother actually love me?

"I can set up a meeting between the two of you and I could mediate if it would be helpful."

I started to laugh.

"You can do it on your own. I don't have to be involved," said Sunny.

"It isn't that. It sounds almost like you're setting up a negotiation between the Israelis and the Palestinians and, of course, there has to be a mediator. As ridiculous as it sounds I'm not sure that's too far off."

"When you figure out what you need, I can set up a secret meeting over a weekend. I'm sure we can keep it hidden from the press while we iron out the key details," Sunny said. "Who knows, I might even be in line for a Nobel Peace Prize if I can pull this off."

Sunny thought she was joking. I wasn't so sure.



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Chapter 63


Not only had I never worked this hard, I hadn't even imagined working this hard. The amusing thing was I wasn't working for grades. I didn't want to embarrass myself, but, given that, they were of little concern.

My primary motivation was I wanted to learn and I felt way behind because I hadn't put much effort into the learning part of my education. To my complete astonishment I was exhilarated by learning, whether I thought it would turn out to be useful or not. No wonder Jeff had so much patience and such joie de vivre.

I worked with such focus the first two weeks back I barely noticed Jeff was continuing to put in the same effort he had when he was a student less than a month ago. I noticed something else disturbing.

Before, time together and time not together was still our time. Now, even the time we spent together was time we each spent alone.

Sunny would have recognized the difference in her relationship with Louis very quickly. I felt like I stumbled onto it. Jeff wouldn't have been aware of its existence until it was time for us to break up. I had to do something.

"Jeff, I want you to remember me telling you to remember this request that you remember it."

He didn't have to say, "What?" It was implicit in his dazed look.

"That's all. Just remember."

I needed to prepare before I could discuss our situation with him.

That evening, when I had finished the amount of work I decided earlier I had to get done I wandered into the kitchen where Jeff was working at the table. I sat down on his lap. I put my arm around his neck. I didn't say a word.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You're my guy. I want to spend some time with you."

"But you're just sitting here."

"With you."

He thought a moment, smiled, turned us from his computer and kissed me. I kissed him back. It lasted a few minutes.

"How about we go to bed early tonight? We could both use a good night's sleep."

I smiled and got up from his lap.

"Lead the way, Dr. Goldberg. Your wish is my ... wish." I didn't know if I would ever reach the point where I would feel comfortable following anybody's command.

Going to bed early is not the same thing as going to sleep early. Sometimes you just can't manage to fall asleep.

Sometimes there are things for which you would prefer to stay awake. This was such a night.

"I don't know that it's any one thing," said Jen.

We had been talking regularly, trying to come up with an appropriate bottom line for the wedding.

"It's more of a general concept. In some ways it's easier for me to think about it that way. I'm not a member of a royal wedding. But that may also mean I expect to have more things my way.

"Maybe the best way to describe it is I want to be appreciated, no, worshipped on the most important day of my life."

"Well, that's easy enough. All you want is deification."

She thought that was hilarious.

Jen had a sizeable list of must-haves for her wedding. I knew I would never get everything on her list. I decided to make my own list. It wouldn't be me just rattling off a bunch of things I wanted. I would make a written list. I decided to try to start with the most important items at the top of the list.

1. At the end of the ceremony I had to be married to Jeff.

2. The ceremony must include a rabbi and a chuppah.

3. All of Jeff's family must be there.

4. My closest friends must be there. That was Jen and Rich so far, if she is still seeing him.

I swapped two and three and then swapped three and four. As I added to the list none of the new items seemed make-or-break.

5. Attire must be dress-up.

6. Artist for drawings

7. Photos for guests

8. Flowers

9. Music

10. Dancing -- how will they accommodate twelve hundred guests?

11. Theme for the wedding

12. Entertainment for guests during hors d'oeuvres, pictures, whatever

Each item became more difficult to add. The order wasn't clear. As I considered them, nothing seemed important enough to insist upon. Should I add dozens so I could be turned down enough times to get the ones I really needed? I couldn't muster the enthusiasm. I'd come back to the list another time.

For the fourth consecutive night I entered the kitchen to sit with Jeff. He wasn't there. I found him in the bedroom at the table beside the bed.

"There you are," I said.

"I figured I wouldn't have as far to go when you showed up."

"Getting pretty cocky aren't you?"

"Just observant."

"Well, if being observant led you to conclude I would show up, I assume you have figured out why I'm doing it."

"I figured out what. I'm not clear on why. That's probably because I considered so many possibilities it was difficult to narrow it down to one."

"Do you remember me asking you to remember me asking you to remember?"

"Aha!" he said.

"So you've figured it out?"

"No. But I remember you asking me to remember you asked me to remember."

"This is starting to sound like a sitcom."

"If it is, I hope it has a very long run."

I laughed. "In the sitcom, they would move to another scene and leave it up in the air."

"Fortunately, this is not a sitcom"

I smiled enigmatically.

"Right?" he asked.

I hesitated before answering. "I wouldn't make you suffer needlessly." I paused. "Any more."

He chuckled. "You can be a wicked woman."

"Perhaps. But the old Ashley would have needed no reason to make you suffer. Not you, but some guy."

More silence.

"Well?"

I sat down in his lap.

"It's fun to toy with you. But I might as well get to the real topic.

"We both seem to be focused on our individual goals. I know I have been. But I think for a while there I was so focused I forgot that without an us,  my goals wouldn't mean very much to me.

"I can appreciate my accomplishments without somebody telling me how well I've done. But what a rush I get when I can see you savoring them as well."

I could see his eyes doing that thing as I spoke. He broke out into a smile when I mentioned the rush.

"It could be that I've been hyperfocused. That can be a bad thing if it lasts too long. Perhaps I can do something to correct it."

He rose and picked me up in his arms simultaneously. We were kissing as he set me down on the bed.

"I want to make sure I understand the entire context so I can avoid falling into this kind of mistake in the future. Please explain it to me completely."

"I don't want to give you too much to absorb all at once. Let's give it some time to sink in and then I'll try to explain it to you more fully," I said in as serious a voice as I could muster.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," he said.



-------

Chapter 64


The first four items on the list were not at issue. Jeff and I would be married. We were both Jewish so there would be a rabbi and a chuppah. Both families and all our friends would be there.

So would half the business community. The guest count was over fifteen hundred and seemed to still be climbing. Who were these people?

Not only would the attire be dress-up, black tie was preferred. And flowers? Anyone with allergies would need to dose up on antihistamines to make it through what was shaping up to be a marathon wedding celebration.

So what was it that was bothering me? My parents helped me identify it.

"Sunny, set up a meeting with my mother."

"What has you so agitated?"

"They've gone absolutely crazy. I can't believe them."

"What did they do, Ashley?"

"You know how we typically give out gifts to the bridemaids?"

"Yes."

"They're planning to give out gifts to everyone who attends."

"What's wrong with that? That actually seems nice."

"You haven't heard what the gifts are."

"I haven't, but I assume you're going to tell me."

"Everyone who attends gets a certificate to open a free checking account at Fine Bank with a two hundred fifty dollar deposit."

Sunny made a sound that sounded like a clipped "ooo."

"That's not all. It gets better. There's also a certificate for a free investment consulting session. You don't have to open an investment account at the bank. They'll still talk to you. And there's more.

"If you do open an investment account the first three trades are free. It's not a wedding; it's a fucking wedding promotion to draw customers to the bank. I'm so angry I want to punch them both in the face and walk out of their lives forever."

"Goodness. I'll call your mother and get back to you."

From Sunny, "Goodness" was an imprecation of the highest order.

Jeff had been at a meeting with Dr. Lloyd when I spoke to my mother.

He saw me when he walked in the door, gave me a small smile and asked, "Should I have something to do for a while?"

"You didn't do anything. I'm so furious."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Before I answered, he sang, "That's what friends are for."

I didn't give him the chance to sing that I should keep smiling. My hands were in the air, muscles clenched. I yelled, "Aaahhh."

He walked over and put his arms around me, which was very courageous. Someone with my body language was more likely to punch him than to relax. He got lucky.

I finally calmed down enough to fill him in. I stood waiting for him to curse my parents along with me but, of course, he stood there and thought about it.

"Very clever," he said almost with admiration.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked with no admiration whatsoever.

"He's going along with the wedding; letting you marry the guy he doesn't approve of. He's going to cover all the costs and he doesn't want my parents to contribute a cent. But he's making the conditions so odious he expects you to refuse to have the wedding.

"Then we'll have to regroup while you figure out what kind of wedding you want, how it will be funded and who will attend. I'm guessing he hopes that doing it this close to the wedding date will make the planning fractious and create enough friction between us to break us up."

Could this have been his plan? I was furious, enraged. I was also a little bit impressed. Had my fiancé been anyone but Jeff his plan might well have worked. But Jeff would know how to counter this, wouldn't he?

"What do we do, Jeff? What does Sun Tzu say about this?"

"I don't think Sun Tzu is the proper authority in this case. Your father has struck a formidable blow. I think the proper response will be found in Judo."

"Judo?" I was incredulous. "What are you going to do, throw him into a wall or something?"

"No. The key principle of Judo is to use your opponent's force against him. In this case his force is considerable so we need to turn it around against him."

"And your plan is... ?"

"I'm thinking."

Gee, with a plan like that we don't have anything to worry about. I didn't verbalize it. As angry as I was, I had enough self control not to take it out on Jeff. Besides, I had absolute confidence in Jeff. He would be able to come up with a brilliant plan. I hoped.

Jeff's eyes lost their glaze and focused on me.

"You have it?" I asked.

"Let's go out to dinner."

"That's your plan?

"No, I'm hungry."

"Stop that. You make it really difficult to maintain my level of rage when you screw around like that."

"And I'll tell you my plan over dessert."



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Chapter 65


"Jeff's coming with me."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? This is supposed to be between you and your mother. In addition to working out the wedding it's supposed to bring you closer to her."

"Jeff's coming with me." My tone was different from the first time I said it. She understood.

"Jeff has a plan?" she said.

"Judo."

Sunny hesitated briefly and then broke into almost uncontrolled laughter.

"This should be fun," she said.

"I don't know why I had to be here for this discussion. Joanne is in charge of all the arrangements for the wedding."

"Don't be so modest, Mr. Fine," said Jeff. "I'm staggered by the brilliance of your concept."

You wouldn't think someone could look nauseous from being flattered so completely, but my father was starting to look sick.

"All Ashley and I did was finish fleshing out your concept to generate the maximum impact."

Dad looked like he was having a flashback to the first time Jeff took him apart. He simultaneously had to fake enthusiasm in front of this crowd or he would be revealed as our evil nemesis.

"I have copies of the press release for everybody to look at in case Ashley and I missed something."

Fine Bank has implemented the initial test of its new strategy to promote awareness of its services and benefits by sponsoring weddings for (fill in the type of wedding you plan to target).

The rollout of the strategy will be at the wedding of the daughter of CEO Ebenezer J. Fine this June. While this may not turn out to be the optimal size and style of wedding chosen for the strategy, it is expected to provide meaningful metrics on the efficacy of the strategy due to the extensive guest list with over fifteen hundred invitees.

Marketing analysts for the Bank anticipate that almost any potential problems which could arise during the life of the program will be revealed by a wedding of this magnitude as even fairly large weddings are rarely more than a fifth this size.

The strategy marries to the marketing effort the opportunity to bring brides the wedding of their dreams at a greatly reduced cost to their families.

Under the program, each guest receives free checking for any account opened with $250. They also receive a free session of investment consulting and three free trades if they subsequently open an investment account. These offers are expected to allow most guests to more than recoup the cost of their wedding gifts to the couple.

More than 2.25 million weddings take place each year in the United States alone, with an average of 180 guests. Fine Bank expects to reach over 80% of the adult population with the program. If the program proves to be as successful as anticipated it could be replicated worldwide through Fine Bank International.

In addition to the financial gifts each guest will receive a portfolio with the Fine Bank logo in which to keep their important papers. The logo will also appear on the centerpieces.

While other banks and business are expected to jump on the gravy train when the program proves to be successful, the Bank expects those efforts to inure to its benefit as well since the only requirement of participating in the program is that invitations and signage conclude with the words: A Fine Bank Wedding®.

Mr. Fine declined to put a figure on the value of the program, although he expects to completely recover the costs of his daughter's test wedding.

Upon reading our "press release" my mother looked aghast and her mouth hung open. My father's sickly color did not improve.

"Uh, could I have some time to discuss this with Joanne?" he asked.

Jeff looked to me as if for consent and then said, "Of course, sir. We introduced a few additional ideas and I know this is probably not exactly the way it would be done by a public relations professional, so why don't we leave you to review it? We'll go out for lunch and return in around two hours."

Dad muttered his assent and Jeff, Sunny and I went out to the car and drove off.

Sunny was the first to speak.

"That bordered on torture. It was cruel and entirely appropriate, sorry Ashley."

"No need to be sorry. I helped Jeff put it together."

I was almost giddy. Jeff drove with a determined look on his face.

"The thing that blows me away is that I think it's actually a brilliant marketing strategy. But directing it at his daughter's wedding is crass and uncaring. It makes him look creepy enough that people might avoid him even though they stand to benefit from the program."

"There is no program, Mom. We made it up so he would look creepy and be forced to abandon the charade of doing this to Ashley's wedding."

"That's our wedding, Sweetie."

"That's not how I recall it being referenced," said Jeff.

"It was implied."

"It was vaguely referred to as an occasionally useful fiction."

His understanding was not flawed.

The lunch conversation turned considerably lighter.

I had a high level of confidence that my father would scrap his plans. The failure to use my name in the fake press release conveyed the impression that he valued me only as a tool of business.

We had carefully positioned the word "wedding" with gifts rather than with "couple" to make it more impersonal. We characterized the event as a "test wedding" making it sound almost as if we were not really getting married.

Suggesting that the wedding would wind up costing my father nothing reinforced the impression my life was of no interest to him except as a vehicle to build his business.

The bit about the bank logos we made up. It seemed like something that ought to be included in a strictly business setting but was ghastly for a wedding.

The coup de grace was "A Fine Bank Wedding®." In other circumstances it would have made an effective trademark. In conjunction with the test wedding of his anonymous daughter to an unreferenced groom it was just crass and tasteless.

We had discussed the possibility he would simply eschew everything but the certificates. But Jeff and I had feigned enthusiasm for helping Dad carry out his plans by adding all those nice touches and we didn't believe he could manage to position it as anything other than a repudiation of our efforts on his behalf.

I felt just barely guilty. It would be wildly inaccurate to say I almost felt guilty. Even though what we had done was pretty rotten, Dad deserved it.



-------

Chapter 66


Dad took off before we arrived. He left it for my mother to inform us he had decided to postpone his efforts to use weddings to help promote business.

He had gotten so carried away with the prospects it had escaped his notice that it would be inappropriate to do at his daughter's wedding. My mother tried hard to sell it, but it was pretty clear she didn't believe him either.

I told her to let him know how much I appreciated his understanding. I doubt she believed me any more than she believed him. She seemed to be satisfied that everything had been resolved.

It hadn't.

I told Jeff to take a load off. We had a little more to discuss.

"Mom, how many people are invited to the wedding?"

"We're at a little over seventeen hundred, but I don't think there will be more than another hundred to add."

"Really. Only eighteen hundred guests. Aren't we going to feel lonely?"

"Where did you learn that sarcasm, young lady?"

"In my defense," said Jeff, "she had the full complement of sarcasm when I met her."

We were both startled. I knew Jeff was still there. It just hadn't occurred to me he would participate in the discussion.

"Fortunately for both of you, I speak fluent sarcasm. Please allow me to translate.

"Ashley has suggested that in this country and in this religion, a wedding is an intimate occasion. While there is no precise definition of intimate in this context, it is uncontroverted that eighteen hundred exceeds it by thirteen to fifteen hundred.

"Universal wedding etiquette places the comfort and enjoyment of the guests near the top of the list. The expense, effort and logistics required to seat eighteen hundred people plus the support staff to purchase, prepare, serve, clean up and dispose of the debris resulting from such an event is seriously deleterious to the enjoyment of the guests.

"I didn't anticipate this discussion, but if it would be helpful I'm sure I can develop a mathematical model to not only prove my assertion, but calculate the number of guests where the experience begins to switch from enjoyable to burdensome."

"How do you know that?"

"Thank you, Ashley," said Mom. I had saved her the embarrassment by asking her question.

"I read it somewhere," he answered.

Mom stood there with her mouth open shaking her head slowly.

"It's okay, Mom. He does this kind of stuff all the time."

"How do you get used to it?"

"I'll let you know when I do. Still, Jeff makes a good point, I'm pretty sure."

"I'm inclined to believe him. But how do we get this past your dad?"

"I infer from the fact that you're still adding to the guest list that you haven't sent out invitations?" Jeff asked.

"No," said Mom.

"That and the fact it's too early to send them out," he added.

"How do you know that?" I asked. "Never mind. You read it."

"So, what do we do?" Mom asked.

She looked toward Jeff as if we all assumed he would have the answer. So did I. I was thrilled to have identified the problem. I hadn't even begun to work on a solution.

"Well, we have a resource limited over a fixed period." He didn't miss a beat. It was just like it was the obvious next step in an elementary problem.

"Think of it like a Counting Crows concert or a Philadelphia Orchestra concert."

What was he talking about? Mom's face didn't register any recognition either.

"There is only one opening night and I'll grant that is seen as the most valuable performance. But each night they produce a substantially identical performance. In the course of a week seven times as many people can see a concert as opposed to just one night."

"Are you saying we should have seven weddings?" Mom asked, incredulous.

"Technically five assuming around three hundred guests initially," he said. "But it shouldn't be much of a problem to hold a congratulations-on-getting-married, welcome-back-from-the-honeymoon celebration for fifteen hundred people.

"All kinds of organizations and conferences have large banquets where people choose to sit together because of some affinity resulting from or independent of the overall meaning of the gathering.

"Here it seems the vast majority of those being invited are not friends or family; they are some kind of business or institutional associates. Not only would it be acceptable to have them in an event after the wedding, you could persuasively argue it is a greater honor to schedule an additional event to make sure they are included because of their intimate connection to Mr. Fine despite not being family or personal friends."

We sat in stunned silence. I'd seen enough of Jeff not to be surprised, but I was surprised.

Mom asked one question.

"How old are you?"

"You probably won't be surprised to know that is the question I'm most often asked. You shouldn't be surprised to hear I'm one year older than high school."

Mom smiled. "That's what you said the first time I met you."

"When can we get Dad back here" I asked.

Jeff held up a cautionary finger.

"I'm not certain of the details of the relationships, but I don't think you can present this to him, Mrs. Fine. From what I've observed of his concept of your role he views you as an implementer without a lot of decision-making authority. I intend no offense, but that seems to be the situation from what I have observed."

"I'm afraid you see it accurately," said Mom.

"You can ask him to return because you don't have the authority to do what Ashley has urged."

"What's with this urged?" I asked. "And why aren't you a part of this?"

"Second question first, he resents me as the cause of all this and that's going to make him angry enough. If I'm the one presenting it as my idea there's a good chance he'll reject it out of hand.

"I used the word urged because it implies enough importance that you will be willing to take it further. If you requested it that might suggest you don't have enough conviction to follow through. If you demanded it he would probably get defensive. He's not going to give anybody what they demand. People do what he demands.

"There may be a better word than urge, but it's in the neighborhood of the connotation you want to convey.

"Mrs. Fine, you can support the idea as interesting and point out it has some positive aspects. If you fully went to bat for it I think that would evoke resistance from him.

"That's how I see it, but I could be completely wrong."

"Where did you learn all that, and don't tell me a book?" I urged.

"I've read a fair amount of psychology including materials about persuasion. It seemed interesting so I didn't stop with the basic texts. I didn't have any use in mind for it at the time, but sometimes I see situations where it can be useful."

"I think your analysis is surprisingly accurate, Jeff," said Mom. "How long have you been working on this?"

I started to laugh.

"What?" she asked.

"Probably since around the middle of this conversation."

Jeff blushed.

"See," I pointed.

His face grew redder.

I walked over to him and gave him a kiss and a hug.

"Even if you win this he's going to be really pissed with me," he whispered. "We're going to have to be on the lookout for more."



-------

Chapter 67


We didn't call my father and ask him to come home. There had been enough challenges to his authority. We waited for him to return. If he didn't ask what we had discussed I would bring it up.

When we were most of the way through dinner it was pretty obvious he wasn't going to bring it up. He had relented and agreed not to use my wedding as a commercial promotion. What more could possibly be expected of him? He didn't say that; it's how I interpreted his silence.

I'd had time to think about how to position it and decided I needed to be forceful if he had no interest in reason and cooperation. I decided on my bottom line and was willing to threaten the ultimate sanction - cancel his wedding and hold our own elopement with the Goldberg family. I didn't know how I felt about having to exercise it and hoped I would not have to find out.

I had asked Mom to get the ball rolling.

"Ebenezer, I told the children about your wise decision to defer your concept of a wedding promotion until after their wedding. They were pleased."

Children? We certainly hadn't discussed using that word. I worried the infantilization would undercut my ability to negotiate, but it was out there and I couldn't think of any way to fix it.

"Good. I'm gratified they appreciated my efforts." He was aloof.

That was an effort? Declining to make my wedding a marketing circus was an effort? He was gratified? I knew efforts was an attempt to spin his backing down as going out of his way to do something nice for us. That I could stomach. Gratified was just pompous. Jeff would have been gratified I didn't burst into flame and call my father an asshole.

My newfound ability not to fly off the handle was a measure both of how far I had come and how far I had needed to come. I was embarrassed at who I used to be.

"Dad, you have a lot of business friends and associates coming to my wedding. I think you're not doing them justice by inviting them this way."

Since I hadn't had a lot of time to prepare for this, I had discussed the wording with Jeff. He agreed with my analysis. Having a lot of people did not accuse my father of having too many, though the need to reduce the number was still required. Calling it my wedding would reinforce my right to have a say in how it was celebrated.

Most of the discussion concerned whether to say I think you're not doing them justice as opposed to I don't think you're doing them justice.

The former seemed to say he was doing something good, but I had found a flaw and wanted to point it out to help correct the problem.

The latter felt like it implied he was screwing up and I had to step in to fix it for him. Also, don't think seemed to suggest some uncertainty whereas think did not.

They were pretty much the same damn thing. That you could predict such different interpretations from such a subtle difference in wording was gratifying.

I had been looking to pursue a career in which I could influence the course of events, though I had no idea what course of events I hoped to influence. Trying out some of the tools of the trade was exhilarating.

"Oh, and just how would I go about doing them justice?"

Success! Though he was being sarcastic, he was talking about it and permitting further discussion.

My experience told me the other wording would have resulted in something like, "With all my experience you're telling me I don't know what I'm doing and you're going to tell me what to do?" That would have led to a discussion of his experience, my experience and what credentials I had to be telling him what to do.

Instead I had been invited, albeit insincerely, to offer my considered substantive suggestion instead of a procedural argument as to whether I should be listened to at all.

"Throw a post-wedding party just for them. You can show a video of wedding highlights; have a cameo appearance of the happy couple back from the honeymoon. That's all you need to provide your pretext for a good time without having to dwell on bride this and bride that."

He hadn't interrupted. I was astonished. He didn't have a murderous, hateful look. He was annoyed, but that might just have been him living his life to the fullest.

"Make it as independent of the wedding as you can. That will take up less extraneous time than a most-loyal-customer dinner banquet. And in the final analysis everyone will be celebrating their business camaraderie, and talking about how to promote more business with each other.

"With the affair less tied to the wedding you can have the Fine Bank certificates, Fine Bank centerpieces and napkins, silverware and whatever you think would make an effective location for the logo."

I finished and awaited his response. He was thinking. He came perilously close to smiling. Even his eyes seemed to light up.

"After all those years of fighting us every step of the way, refusing to cooperate, refusing to participate and showing no interest whatever in our family business, you have shown remarkable insight into this business opportunity. I'm very impressed. You might turn out to be a Fine after all.

"I hope this means I will have the opportunity to take you under my wing and mentor you in the ways the Fines have done business for hundreds of years."



-------

Chapter 68


"I don't know if I saw something or not, Jeff. I just felt something. It might have been a look in his eyes or a tone of voice when he said that, but I just felt there was an implied after I get rid of that interloper when he talked about taking me under his wing."

"Maybe you're just not used to him giving in or handing out credit."

"It could be. It's really difficult to quantify intangibles."

Jeff gave me a look. "You're playing around with words," he said in a sing-song tone.

I place my left hand at the top of my chest and affected my finest southern belle. "Li'l ole me?"

"Little old you."

"I don't know, maybe he did get something back to satisfy himself. He said we had limited the number of extended family members we invited so we could probably avoid creating resentment by inviting them all.

"I didn't say anything because I didn't want to jeopardize the big win. But, really, they're inviting eighteen hundred people initially and that's because they're trying to keep the list down? Talk about needing a dose of reality."

"You did a remarkable job, Ash."

"Thank you. I think they decided to invite the poor side of the family."

"I didn't know there was a poor side. Are they the ones who can't afford a Kelly?"

"I'm in awe. Okay, you read Jennifer Weiner. That was impressive. But Sophie Kinsella? Really? What's your favorite movie, Beaches?"

"I liked Beaches; not as much as The Princess Bride, which you already know. Almost everybody wants to see the guy get the girl or the girl get the guy. Deep down we're all romantic. Besides, all men like some romance film or another."

"Name one."

He rose to the challenge. "Secretary."

He wasn't entirely wrong. I gave him a look anyway.

"Sophie Kinsella is what surprised you? I started with Can You Keep a Secret and I had to read more. I love her sense of humor. Then I read The Undomestic Goddess and four of the Shopaholic series."

"Secretary," I said with scorn.

"It's a love story."

"Barely."

"Yes, barely is how they were in love."

"Barely is how they were dressed."

He was such a smartass and I loved smartass as much as he did.

So he was impressed with my handling of my father and I was impressed by the breadth of things that interested him.

It wasn't long before Jeff slipped back into his overworking habit. I could ask him to remember I told him to remember asking him, but repeated use of that strategy was likely to produce rapidly diminishing results.

How could I get him to change? After I considered quite a few options it occurred to me I needed to understand why he was drawn to overworking. If I understood it, I might be able to devise an approach to cure him of the need to overwork.

It occurred to me this was similar to Jeff looking for antidotes to diseases, though not nearly as complex, I hoped.

Jeff didn't seem to have performance issues. I had no sense that when he did something he had to be the best. He just seemed to want what he did to be effective. If it didn't work, he would try something else.

So if he didn't need to excel, it had to be something else. Did he feel the additional preparation made him more able to improvise? Did it have anything to do with performance at all? I'd never seen him attempt anything he couldn't accomplish.

Then I thought back to something he had said at Thanksgiving: I, in particular, have been blessed with so many gifts it seems unfair for one person to get them. I hope I can live up to the responsibility that comes with it.

Did Jeff feel he did not deserve his remarkable intelligence? Did he feel that only by working with it constantly could he atone for the undeserved luck thrust upon him? I thought we'd had that conversation, but maybe I only thought it.

Perhaps we did have the conversation, but it had not been enough to outweigh the belief he hadn't done anything more to deserve it than I had to deserve my beauty.

If that was the problem there would not be an easy solution. The subconscious doesn't easily recover from twenty years of messages of unworthiness.

Now that I thought of it I might be suffering from the same problem. It was probably the reason I had so much trouble believing all the complimentary things the Goldbergs said about me. The only messages I used to get were wealth and beauty, not that they were terrible things. But I did no more to earn them than Jeff did his intelligence.

So, how do you combat subconscious feelings of unworthiness? I think the Freudian Theory is you make them conscious; you confront them. Then what?

Surely it is not that easy.



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Chapter 69


No, it was not that easy.

"Jeff, we need to talk."

He started to laugh and continued for some time.

"I'm gratified you seem to be over the fear those words strike in most men's hearts."

"It was a reaction to the fear they strike in most men's hearts. When you say them it's usually a way to make us better. It's usually something I could have thought about but didn't."

"Jeff, I think I'm too beautiful."

He started to laugh again.

"I didn't see that coming. I'm not sure it's possible to be too beautiful. But assuming it is, what problems does being too beautiful cause? What are the consequences when you step over the line from being breathtakingly beautiful to destructively beautiful?"

"Mock me if you will. Let me give you just the short list because there are so many ways extreme beauty can be insidious.

"It made me complacent. Raw beauty allowed me to achieve so much I began to feel I didn't need anything else. I didn't need to develop any skills or talent to get what I want.

"It made me contemptuous. Of what value were the talents of people around me when I could get just as much or more without those talents? And since nobody else seemed to be able to achieve my level of beauty it gave me too high an opinion of myself and too low an opinion of everybody else.

"It blocked my development of empathy. I couldn't understand others' feelings or pain because I had never been in their situations. I was never rejected. I didn't suffer from underperforming. Allowances were always made for me because I was so beautiful.

"It prevented me from learning to develop relationships with other people. I could make connections with people, but they were always based on my superiority in the connections. People connected with me for what it gave them and I connected for what it gave me. I had control. I had dominance. They had status by virtue of the connection.

"It made me pathologically selfish. I saw everything and everyone in terms of what was in it for me. I barely recognized there was another side to the equation. And, to take a page from your ubiquitous math analogies, the equation was always an inequality - Ashley is greater than whomever.

"It denied me the ability to appreciate almost everything. I had almost everything I wanted. I could do whatever I wanted. I could get almost anything I wanted and I never had to make much of an effort for any of it. How could I value anything when it came so effortlessly?

"Look at all the work you did for me in high school and it cost me nothing. My grades cost me little effort. And all the help I got from others toward grades or whatever else I rarely even had to ask for. It was offered up on the altar of my beauty.

"It prevented me from gaining any understanding of responsibility. If I didn't do something, if I omitted something, if I didn't properly appreciate the things being done for me or given me, well, you know Ashley is so beautiful you really can't expect, fill in the blank.

"And could I ever ease up on the beauty? What could I do, put on less makeup?"

"You don't wear makeup."

"Exactly! What a useless, pathetic parasite I would have turned out to be if you hadn't slapped me in the face repeatedly to bring me out of my trance?"

Jeff wasn't laughing anymore.

"And look at how it made me treat people. I -"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa up there. You didn't do anything to get that beauty. It was given to you randomly. And I will concede you've made a compelling case that it put a enough impediments in your way to make you likely to turn into a wasted, useless husk of a human being."

"Thank you," I said.

"You know what I mean. And all those impediments you listed and all the others I'm sure you were going to elaborate have made your achievements in overcoming them all the more remarkable. They have made you not a wasted, useless husk, but a truly remarkable human being."

"Thank you." This time I said it sincerely. "You're not just saying that because I put out for you, are you?"

"Have I mentioned that amazing sense of humor?"

"So, if I understand you correctly, even though I did nothing to become this breathtakingly beautiful, even though I did nothing to deserve it, I've been served well in learning to overcome it. And there is much more to me than my beauty. And, given that I well know how to use it, I'm developing the capacity to use it for good, not merely for my benefit?"

"You understand me correctly."

"Good. We need to talk. We have another problem to address."

This time he didn't laugh.

"Jeff, you think you're too smart."

He laughed again, but it was a very nervous laugh.

"I'm not sure it's possible to be too smart, but, apparently, you think it is. Look at all the problems it causes.

"It made it possible for you to become complacent. Anything you wanted to achieve you could achieve effortlessly. You barely had to raise a synapse to become your high-school valedictorian.

"It made you somewhat contemptuous, not as a matter of course, but of all those people who could not understand despite your explanations what was completely obvious. Or, if not contempt, boundless frustration at their inability to understand what, to you, could not be misunderstood.

"You do have empathy. I assume you were able to generalize from the way you were treated as an outsider, maybe even as a freak, because your intelligence is so far beyond almost everyone you've met they feared you or it made them uncomfortable.

"It made it difficult for you to develop relationships. How do people connect with someone so clearly above them? Jeff can do anything. He can even become a superior bowler just by reading a book.

"It made you almost pathologically unselfish. You did nothing to earn that intelligence. It is so unfair. You responded by being helpful to others without any thought of reward. You helped the students in your graduate courses just because they asked.

"It denied you the ability to appreciate almost anything. Nothing took any effort. How could you value any of it? Yet, somehow, you found challenges and worked tirelessly to use and develop that intelligence to produce something that may be helpful to mankind.

"And there is the crux of the problem we have to talk about. You work too tirelessly. It doesn't leave much time for you or me or us."

There followed a long silence. Jeff was clearly thinking about all of this, but I had no idea where it led.

"You are incredible," he said. Unfortunately, he said it with ambiguous intonation. I had no idea whether it was a compliment or an accusation.

"You make it absolutely impossible not to love you," he said as he crushed me in a hug.

"Do you really think that's why I work so hard?"

"Jeff, you keep working even after you're done. You get a problem completely worked out and then you keep working at it, like there was something you might have missed."

"There might be."

"But there never is. You keep trying to put in one hundred and ten percent. Now, I'm no math genius, but I'm pretty certain that one hundred percent is all there is. Once you reach that, nothing you do is going to move you past that.

"In fact, I've heard this guy who is a math genius yell that at the TV when some fool starts talking about somebody giving more than one hundred percent and I have absolute faith in his understanding of these matters."

"So you think the extra time I put in could be put to better use?"

"I know it could be put to better use, even if that is only getting enough sleep."

The subconscious does not usually do a complete turnaround instantly. Jeff checked in now and then to try to solidify his conversion.

"And you're sure my questionable confidence results from all the junk in my subconscious?"

I was working on my conversion as well.

"You'd be surprised at how often you are surprised when you do something that doesn't fit in with the old Ashley. I'd say it happens one hundred ten percent of the time. Wait, I may have the math wrong on that."

We continued to work on it during the little time we had left before graduation. Now and then I would clear my throat to remind him not to get carried away. And when I would start to doubt myself Jeff would get a look that said you know who you really are.



-------

Chapter 70


My family came in from everywhere for my graduation. We had a sizeable extended family.

They could be classified into five groups: the comfortable group; the very comfortable group; the wealthy group; the very wealthy group and, like my nuclear family, the obscenely wealthy.

I didn't know what my father may have said to them and I was concerned about the possibility of hostility towards Jeff.

I needn't have worried about hostility because there was not a scintilla of it in evidence. No, they were a lot closer to obsequious, which confirmed to me that Dad had been working his black magic.

They didn't come to attend a graduation party. It was a graduation epic. They started to arrive a week before the actual graduation and we had parties almost every day.

My father's first cousins Lawrence and Raymond and their families stayed at our house. We could have accommodated quite a few more but family politics made that impossible.

Jeff and I hadn't yet bought a place of our own so we were each living at our parents' houses.

The best I could do for Jeff was to limit the meet-the-fiancé trauma to a dinner with Larry's family and another with Ray's family.

Ray brought his daughter, Sabrina, and son, Benjamin, came to dinner Monday night. Ray's wife Miriam was delayed on business and would arrive later in the week.

Ben was twenty-five and had an MBA from Harvard. Sabrina was twenty-one. She would be graduating next year with an undergraduate degree in business. Ben was a hunk, tall with dark, wavy hair. Sabrina was gorgeous. If it hadn't been for my looks she would have been the legendary beauty in the family.

Ray was solicitous of Jeff. Ben showed an enthusiasm for almost everything Jeff said. If it were sincere it would have meant he had a thirst for knowledge as boundless as Jeff's. But he only showed it when talking with Jeff.

Sabrina was in love. She practically drooled over Jeff. In her defense, I had dressed him so he looked very sharp. His intelligence, knowledge and wit made him especially attractive so I couldn't tell if she was smitten or had an agenda.

She flirted continuously, but always had a comment at the ready to show she was just joking. Often she would add, "Of course, if Ashley ever lets you get away let me know and I'll be right over," followed by a giggle. She smoothed her hair. She wet her lips. She would touch his arm when she spoke. She played with the buttons of her blouse deep in her cleavage. Sabrina was clearly not an amateur.

When we spoke later Jeff said she was really nice

Either he didn't understand she had been coming on to him or dismissed it as something she would not do to her engaged cousin.

He liked Ben too. He thought Ben was interesting and so intense. Jeff hadn't noticed Ben's intensity was reserved for him.

He thought Ray was trying too hard, but didn't make a judgment about him one way or the other.

Ray's family was the relative highlight of my family. Larry's family infested us on Tuesday.

Larry and his wife, Linda, tried to come across as seen-it-all, done-it-all upper crust. They oozed so much ennui I was constantly tempted to ask if there was anything in life they enjoyed at all, including breathing.

Tyler, twenty-six, and Malcolm, twenty-four, were prototypical, privileged frat boys; the kind who were always looking to inflict some cruel joke on anyone they could convince the two of them were human.

I don't know if it was easier, but Jeff didn't miss a thing at this dinner.

When he kissed me goodnight, he said, "I've got to rush home to take a long, hot shower to wash the four of them off."

It wasn't a bad idea.

My father may have talked to them, but there was no way this crew was executing any complicated plan he devised. They lacked the discipline to carry out a carefully designed plan.

I couldn't figure out what was going on with Ben. Though his behavior had been strange, I couldn't imagine what he could do to make things difficult for Jeff and me.

I didn't know if Sabrina had been brought into any conspiracy. Not only was she a congenital flirt, when we were younger she used to throw herself at whoever I was with. She managed to get a few of them after they were discarded, but the joy of having what had been mine didn't seem to last long and neither did they.

I wasted a lot of time trying to figure out what they could be up to with no success.



-------

Chapter 71


Jeff and I drove back to school Thursday evening so we could spend two nights together before everyone arrived for graduation.

I tried to apologize for my extended family, but he told me not to even think about it.

"In fact, after meeting all those relatives this week, I think it's remarkable you even turned out human. Being selfish is light years ahead of any of them. And you've turned that around completely. You're an inspiring symbol of hope for the continuation of the species."

I'd come around to the idea that I was essentially a good person and had a lot to contribute to a relationship. The idea that I inspired hope for the continuation of the species was flat out absurd. It was so absurd I couldn't come up with a response.

I was surprised at how exhausted I was when we got home. We hadn't been involved in any strenuous physical activity. I never realized how much energy could be spent worrying about what plots might be carried out.

Friday I spent some time getting together all the paraphernalia associated with graduating. Jeff was gone considerably longer. He said he had all kinds of arrangements to work out.

The doorbell rang as we were discussing plans for dinner.

What a delightless surprise. My family had come up for a big party. They had rented a room at the Brass Rail; so much for spending the night with Jeff. We wouldn't be back from dinner until late.

The food was wonderful. The meal seemed endless nonetheless.

The most memorable event was before we ordered. Jeff and I saw Arnault come into the room and we both started to giggle and held each other while we shook from laughter until we could gain control of ourselves. My family thrilled to the rewards of Arnault's French-accent education.

My father took us all to breakfast and I was beginning to think his plan was to spend so much time with us we wouldn't have any time to spend alone.

The Goldberg family arrived at noon and we all headed to the stadium, the only place large enough for the expected crowd. Jeff had to go back to our place to get something. We wouldn't be sitting together in any event.

The ceremony started at one with Dr. Lloyd welcoming all to the festivities. He carried on with some fluff before he caught my attention.

"Our tradition is to start with the successful doctoral candidates and I shall not stray from that practice. I would like to say a few words about our first candidate, and that is a departure.

"This young gentleman has compiled a remarkable and unique academic record at this university."

I got chills. Who else could this possibly be about?

"He completed his academic stay here in just two years. I don't mean to say it only took him two years to earn his doctorate. He arrived a little less than two years ago as a freshman in our undergraduate program.

"He has garnered every honor he attempted. He is already considered one of the leading minds in his field. It is my great pleasure to present to you Dr. William Jefferson Goldberg."

I could see it. I could feel it in the crowd. Most of them didn't know a thing about him. They were trying to decide if this was a joke.

Then Jeff walked to the podium and the place was silent. I'm sure it was the shock of seeing someone they didn't think was old enough to graduate high school, let alone to earn a doctorate, and not the hideous tie he must have gone back for.

Jeff didn't think it was hideous, but it had so many bright colors it couldn't possibly match anything. I'm sure Jeff thought it was delightful. He loved bright colors. He must have bought it when I wasn't looking.

I would never have let him get out of the house with that tie, but I realized it was so Jeff that I should just enjoy it with him.

He disappeared from the podium and soon the undergraduate degrees were being handed out by senior members of the faculty. This was an honor customarily reserved for department heads, professors known internationally for articles and books they published and distinguished emeritus professors. It was cheaper to honor them than pay them more.

Near the end of the names starting with E the dean of the business school was announced. I thought it was kind of neat to be handed my diploma by the dean of my major.

When Demetrius Filos was called I ascended to the top of the stairs. His family stood and cheered as he was handed his diploma.

"Ashley Fine."

I walked toward the center of the stage, smiling and waving at my cheering family. The dean had nothing in his hand. Had I not graduated for some reason? I felt a moment of panic.

Then I heard Dr. Lloyd's voice.

"This presentation will be made by the newest member of our faculty, Dr. Jeff Goldberg."

He moved aside and there was Jeff, this time wearing a proper tie. I was too shocked to move.

"It is my distinct pleasure to award this degree to my fiancé, Ashley Fine, who, despite never having shown much interest in academic pursuits, has graduated Cum Laude."

He turned to me. "Ashley, you are amazing."

As I took the diploma he put his arms around me and gave me a steaming hot kiss which I returned enthusiastically. Sometime later I felt Jeff releasing me and I remembered where we were.

The whole crowd was cheering. The dignitaries on stage looked like their salaries had just been doubled.

Jeff kept an arm around me and turned toward the microphone.

"I predict that one, or several of the videos I'm sure were taken while I was occupied will be among the most viewed on YouTube this year. I also predict applications to the university will surge for years to come."

From the tumult that arose you would have thought John Kennedy had just finished his inaugural address.

I had no doubt of the sincerity of Jeff's kiss. I also would not have doubted he planned this as the greatest promo in the history of marketing.



-------

Chapter 72


After graduation my focus changed to my wedding.

I know I was obsessive about the dress. I had been accompanied by my mother, Sunny, Sandy, Jen and Jeff when I originally bought it.

Ha! Even if I had been able to hoodwink Jeff into coming, his most incisive comment would have been, "It's white."

The most fun part of the excursion for the others came when I asked, "Does this look alright on me?"

Jen was the first to break out in laughter, but the others followed immediately.

"The only thing I've ever seen you wear that might not have looked alright on you was that hideous getup you wore to my summer reading class so my students wouldn't be aware of how hot you were. Even then you had to put on makeup to play down your appearance.

"If you're going to ask us for an evaluation, the question ought to be: How wonderful do I look in this on a scale of nine to ten, all lower numbers being impossible to attain."

When I tried on another dress I asked, "Does this make me look like the most beautiful bride in the history of marriage or only the runner up?"

In the end it was unanimous: I did not look like the runner up.

The first week home I went twice for a fitting. Nothing had changed.

My third visit was at the beginning of the second week. I was uneasy about something, but I couldn't figure out what. I prevailed upon Sunny to go with me.

While we waited for the seamstress she said, "You sure are nervous, Ashley. Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. I don't think so, but I just can't relax."

The seamstress appeared.

"Here for your regular checkup, Ashley?"

I held my temper.

I got into my dress. They zipped it up. It seemed to fit alright.

"Does it look okay? Does it look too tight anywhere?"

The seamstress sighed and said, "Ashley, you have done the impossible. This is your fourth time in this dress. You have neither gained nor lost a single gram in all that time. The dress fits as if it were part of your body.

"Come in a few days before if it's really bothering you and you think it will require alterations. Stop making yourself crazy."

Before I met Jeff I would have ripped into her for saying that.

We started the drive back in an uncomfortable silence.

"Ashley, what is this about?"

"I don't know, Sunny. The wedding just has to be perfect and I'm worried it won't be."

"What will happen if it isn't perfect?"

"It would be horrible."

"Why? What would that cause? Would it make you get an incurable disease?"

"No, of course not."

"Would it make you get it annulled?"

"No, that's ridiculous."

"Would it make Jeff get it annulled?"

"No."

"Would it cause you guys to get divorced eventually?"

"Don't even say that."

"When I applied for my job, I had to wait to find out if I got it. I didn't get a letter. I didn't get a phone call. It wasn't on the local news or even in the paper. I came home one day and found a message on my answering machine telling me when I started. It wasn't exactly a magical hiring notice.

"What I remember is how much work I had to put in to feel I was doing the job I was hired for. I had to do a lot of reading and review. I had to decide what to put in my courses and what to leave out. I had to develop tests and figure out how I would get them graded. I had to decide how to evaluate the students' understanding of the material. I had to decide whom to hire as my assistants.

"Applying and getting hired was only a nanosecond of my career. The rest was being in the career, figuring how to make it work and how to make it fun.

"You applied for the position as Jeff's wife and you got the job. The official notice will be a celebration that takes less than half a day. That's the first nanosecond of your marriage. You're spending a tremendous amount of time and effort worrying about what's going to happen in the first nanosecond of your marriage.

"How much time have you spent figuring out how you're actually going to do the job of being married? How do you plan to pass the tests? What do you have planned to take care of problems which may arise?

"Are you spending all your time and effort on the celebration of the marriage and none of it on how to make the marriage something worth having?"

The only thing I could come up with is, "Is this a multiple choice question?"

I thought a little more. "You know, when you put it that way, it does seem kind of stupid."

"What way would I have to put it so it doesn't seem kind of stupid?"

"You know, Sunny, you could help me out here if you gave me some answers instead of asking so many questions."

"The marriage is more important than the wedding."

I had to laugh.

"I'll bet if you could do a survey of all the brides in the last fifty years, the number who understood that would be statistically insignificant."



-------

Chapter 73


Two weeks before the wedding, family started drifting into town. We had guests at dinner almost every night. Sabrina was among the early arrivals. She seemed fascinated with Jeff and tried to be subtle when asking about him. I guess in a way she was subtle. I couldn't figure out her agenda. It was even possible she didn't have one.

"Jeff is so different from every other guy you've ever gone out with. What led to this change?"

"Jeff is pretty much different from every other guy. It would have been impossible to go out with somebody like him before."

"What attracted or attracts you to him?" she asked.

"Well, of course, you can see he's the hottest guy out there."

She looked at me with surprise and quickly covered it up by smiling. "I can see that," she said slowly.

"I'm just screwing with you," I said.

She laughed. "You know, he actually is kind of adorable. The way he thinks about things and the stuff he knows. And he is pretty funny. That's quite a package."

"I guess you have your answer," I said.

It was not like Sabrina to take this kind of interest in someone. It gave me an uneasy feeling. On the other hand, she sounded completely sincere. I really believed it was obvious to her how somebody could be in love with him.

Jeff's company, Second Foundation Biomed, had a corporate condo for important visitors. Jeff had arranged to rent it from them starting when we returned from our honeymoon until we found a place we liked. I saw it the week after graduation and agreed it would do nicely.

When we left the car to enter the building we were greeted by people we didn't know in the parking lot. They said hi to "Ashley" and "Jeff." It was a strange experience.

It kept on getting stranger. As we walked from the condo to a restaurant for breakfast, people on the street were greeting us by name. Jeff had a look of confusion. I know I did.

Our waitress came over and said, "Hey, Jeff and Ashley. I'm Monica. I'll be your waitress. What can I get for you?"

"Do we know you?" I asked.

"Oh, no," she laughed. "The video."

When we still had looks of confusion on our faces, she said, "The graduation video; that steaming hot kiss."

Jeff had been right. We just never thought to check.

The manager came over to our table.

"Would it be alright to take your picture? I'd like to put it on the wall. You know, a display of famous people who ate here."

"Oh, my God, we're really famous?" I asked, my face scrunched in that universal look of doubt.

"Look at the window," he said.

A small crowd had gathered and was looking at us. Some pointed.

If this was our fifteen minutes of fame, at least it had resulted from a lovely moment.

"Shoot away," Jeff said.

We pressed our cheeks together and flashed our biggest, most sincere smiles for the camera. This was kind of fun.

When we were clearly ready to go, Monica came to our table and said, "You come back. It was nice having you here."

"Where is our check?" asked Jeff.

"It's on the house."

"You don't have to do that," he said.

"My manager said it's our policy."

We thanked her. Jeff left her twenty dollars.

"So, tell me about what you learned in school. What do you want to do with it?" asked my father.

"I ... haven't given it much thought lately." I sounded surprised because I was.

I was having dinner at home and nothing like this had ever come up in the thousands of dinners we had. They were mostly impersonal and boring. We usually talked about ... I had no idea what we talked about. The conversations were so dry I barely paid attention.

"I'm trying to figure out where to start you in the organization. I mean, it would certainly be easier to mentor you if you worked for me."

What the hell was he talking about? When had I said I would work for him?

"I'm just trying to figure out the best place to start you off; something that would fit in with whatever specialty you may have developed."

I nodded as if to indicate that was a reasonable way to look at it. And it was, if I had been interested in starting a life of suffering.

This was not excitement on his part that I had finally found myself and, serendipitously, it gave us the opportunity to work together and forge a bond that had been missing. I knew him all too well. It was his satisfaction at being able to impose his will.

I smiled, anticipating the opportunity to toy with his delusion. Maybe I could actually learn something from him while I figured out what I wanted to do and whom I wanted to work with.

I could not discern any deception in his attitude. I had not felt any from Sabrina, whom he could easily have convinced to undermine me. He could weave a tale that would move the hearts of even the most principled individuals. Sabrina had no semblance of such principle.

If I had to assess the situation at this point, I would say my father had recognized he was not going to break Jeff and me up and had acquiesced in that realization.

Jeff didn't buy it when I told him what I thought. He argued that Ebenezer was too used to winning and had too much experience coming up with new plans after old ones had failed to just give up.

"You know, sometimes you can give somebody the benefit of the doubt," I said.

"It is very inexpensive to be skeptical and cautious. Being naive can be exorbitant."



-------

Chapter 74



It may be silly, but it has long been considered bad luck for the groom to see the bride on their wedding day before the ceremony.

You would have thought it was bad luck to see each other for a week or two before by the way my family conducted themselves during that period.

We had relatives to dinner every night. There was no prohibition against inviting Jeff, but they monopolized my time to such an extent I rarely saw him after dinner.

I invited Jen and Rich a few times so he would have someone to talk to while waiting for me to become available. I didn't know what he did on the other nights.

During dinner he would respond to people talking to him, but he was reserved. He told me he was trying to put it all together to figure out what my father's plan was. I continued to argue there didn't seem to be a plan.

I found out, because he told me, he had been spending time talking with Sabrina. He said she was a friendly person and pleasant to talk with. She was also asking his advice about what she should do when she graduated. She asked questions about various professions and what kind of training would be required.

From his description of their encounters, I suspected the reality was she was hitting on him. She was good enough at it that, even if Jeff had been a normal guy, he probably would not have recognized it. In any event, it seemed harmless enough.

We were arguing more than usual. I attributed it to wedding jitters.

"I don't understand how you can even consider working for your father," Jeff said. "With the stuff he's pulled, aren't you even a little suspicious of his motives?"

"He thinks he's gotten a lot of what he wanted. Maybe he won't be able to marry me off to somebody he sees as useful to him, but he'll still be able to take advantage of my looks and personality."

"From what you've told me and what I've seen of him, he doesn't strike me as the type to settle for a consolation prize in a situation he is likely to see as a resounding defeat."

"Gee, thanks. I'm a consolation prize." I was miffed.

"Having you work for him is a consolation prize compared to breaking us up. And his failure to break us up, so far, is a resounding defeat."

"What do you mean by 'so far'? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No. It's something I've just told you, but you choose to disregard."

"Oh, so now you know my father better than I do."

"I'm just telling you to be cautious."

"Right." But it was not an expression of agreement.

Jeff was annoyed. I was angry. I didn't realize at the time it had just become a fight I had to win, not because I was right, but because I had a need to win fights. I didn't need to understand and come to the right conclusions; I had to win.

I also didn't realize we were setting out on a catastrophic path.

Jeff said he couldn't come to dinner the next night.

"I'm falling a little behind on my work and besides, there's no need for me to be there every night."

I recognized it as an excuse. He wouldn't lie to me so he was able to convince himself he had a lot of work to do. He was still angry with me and didn't want to see me. It was accurate that he didn't need to be at dinner with me every night. It just wasn't the reason he didn't want to come. He did not want to say he didn't want to see me.

That was fine with me. I didn't want to see him either. I was angry as well.

-------

"The next night he had a different excuse.

"'I'm too tired. It can be such an ordeal over there. I want to get a good night's sleep.'

"Again, completely accurate, but not the reason he didn't want to come.

"I didn't bother to invite him the next night. He didn't call."

"What the hell are you trying to accomplish here?" Jen asked. "Are you trying to end your relationship?"

I just looked at her, bewildered.

"It's a good thing you guys aren't getting married anyway. You're both under the legal age - emotionally."

I sucked in a breath so I could yell back at her. Then I realized it proved her point.

"We're acting like children, aren't we?"

She gave me a look that said you think.

"Maybe we're not."

This time she looked at me, bewildered.

"There's no question I've been acting like a child. I don't know if Jeff has. This might be like those situations in the beginning when I would act outrageously and he would just walk away because he wouldn't put up with it.

"It's a little different now because he has to come back at some point. We have a relationship and, so far, uncanceled plans for a wedding. But he doesn't have to put up with my childish behavior."

Jen laughed. "It's good to see you can carry both sides of the conversation now."

-------

"I'm sorry, Jeff. I reverted to my old behavior. You were just offering a suggestion and I went crazy. Can you forgive me?"

"As I mentioned before, I've met your relatives. You've spent quite a bit of time with them lately, exposed to their thinking, which bears only the vaguest resemblance to rational thought and sanity. I think it's remarkable you managed to recognize the nature of your behavior so quickly in that environment."

"You could have just said yes."

"No, I couldn't."



-------

Chapter 75



Jeff's bachelor party was on a Thursday night ten days before the wedding. I'll admit I was nervous. It made no sense. I didn't make a request or even a suggestion as to what might be inappropriate behavior. That could never happen.

Sure, cousins Ben, Tyler and Malcolm would be there. Ben's attitude made me suspicious. Tyler and Malcolm were superstars at inducing fear. They were capable of attending a religious retreat and turning it into an event where they were the only ones not arrested.

However, Louis would also be there. I felt confident he would not let things get out of hand. Rich would be there as well and Jen had spared no adjectives in describing how responsible he was.

The most important attendee would be Jeff. Given how he had gone out of his way to take care of me when I went out drinking with the girls on my twenty-first birthday, he might well be the most responsible person there.

And even if Tyler and Malcolm managed to somehow drug Jeff, which wouldn't be the first time they accomplished such illegal behavior, Louis and Rich would be there to protect him.

Sabrina had joked she was sure she could titillate the guys with a steaming, hot dance. At least I think she was joking.

Yeah, I wasn't worried one little bit.

-------

"So, did Rich tell you about the big night?" I feigned casual.

"Big night?" asked Jen. She was feigning casual as well. I could tell she meant to give me a hard time.

"The bachelor party," I said, clarifying with no special emphasis.

"Oh, that."

"Yes."

"I think Rich did mention something about it."

"How long do you plan to torture me?" I asked.

"Just long enough for me to squeeze the maximum enjoyment out of it."

She didn't continue. I shoved my palms upward in an urgent gesture.

"It was pretty damn funny. Jeff is a bachelor, but I don't think you could really use the word party to describe it.

"The brothers, Tyler and Malcolm, suggested they go to a strip club.

"Jeff said he'd already seen plenty of the most beautiful women on the face of the earth. He said it would be anticlimactic. One of the brothers said they wanted the evening to be climactic. They both laughed at that like he was a professional comedian. Jeff whispered to Rich he couldn't decide if the brothers were drunk, stupid or drunk and stupid.

"The other brother said he knew a club where they could have a really good time. Both of them laughed like this was the funniest thing they ever heard. Jeff whispered to Rich he was having a hard time believing these guys had graduated from elementary school, let alone college. He said the highlight of the evening would be when he could escape from them.

"After some arguing, Jeff said he had already eaten, but he would like to go somewhere to get a really nasty dessert. One of the brothers said, 'That's what I'm talking about. We can go to this club and get a really nasty dessert, if you know what I mean.'

"Jeff said, 'No. I don't think I know what you mean. Could you explain?' He said it earnestly, with an absolutely straight face.

"The brothers were stumped, like someone had asked them to explain how DNA replicates. Rich said he could barely keep from laughing. Louis had to turn his head away to keep from breaking up.

"They went to a restaurant. Jeff ordered key lime pie, a chocolate mousse and a Diet Sprite. He said their mousse was fabulous. One of the brothers tried to make a risqué joke about mousse, but he got confused and Jeff and Rich started snort laughing. The guy beamed, like he had mastered the fine art of humor.

"Somebody suggested they get the drinking started and Jeff said he couldn't do that because he was under age. The Neanderthals started to laugh until they realized he was serious.

"When Jeff went to the bathroom, Tweedle Dumb, Rich couldn't figure out which was which so took to referring to them as Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber, poured some of his drink in Jeff's Diet Sprite. Tweedle Dumb giggled and said Jeff wouldn't know the difference.

"Jeff came back to the table and picked up his drink and looked at it funny. He smelled it. He held the glass up to look at it more closely and asked, 'Did one of you boneheads put something in my drink?'

"They both denied it and Jeff picked up on some body language and said, 'Oh, you, Tyler.'

"You know, there was one other strange thing Rich mentioned."

"What was that?"

"He said he had no idea Jeff went out and met so many people."

My face told her I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Rich said everywhere they went there were people coming up to them saying hi to Jeff or and extending their hands to shake and saying Jeff Goldberg."

"Do you remember at graduation when Jeff said the kiss would go viral?"

"Yeah."

"It did."

"Anyway, later, Louis, the boneheads had forgotten he was Jeff's father, said they told him they only wanted to get Jeff blotto. They weren't far from blotto themselves by then. They said they were going to take the guys to a cool club. Jeff said he, Rich and Louis would follow them in his car. Jeff 'lost' them at the first red light they drove through. He said he'd apologize to them when they had recovered enough to know who he was."

"Wow. That's almost as far from a bachelor party as I can imagine," I said.

"Oh, yeah," said Jen. "One of the Tweedles said something about it being a celebration of the wonders of bachelorhood Jeff would be leaving behind. Jeff said, 'That's funny. I see it as a celebration not having to be a bachelor anymore and starting the rest of my life with an amazing woman.'"

"Oh, my. He's still Jeff, isn't he?"



-------

Chapter 76


Jeff was always thinking. It wasn't limited to his work or the things he read. He was always analyzing something in his spare time like when he brushed his teeth or took a shower. There were so many times he would come out of the shower and say, "I just had an interesting idea." He used the word interesting because he didn't want characterize his thoughts as amazing. But often they were.

To my regret, I had not picked up the thinking habit.

He told me about his bachelor party with less detail than had been supplied by Jen.

"I still think your father had something to do with this. Those two clods couldn't come up with an original idea."

I waited for him to finish the thought with if their life depended on it, until I realized he had come up with an original way to express their ineptitude by not qualifying it.

"Would you just give it a rest, Jeff? All you've got are the vaguest suppositions about what might be going on. There is nothing even remotely concrete. If there is something there, we'll deal with it."

"I'll have to remember to tell the Boy Scouts their motto is bullshit. Why be prepared when you can just react and hope for the best?"

I later realized I was back to doing what Jen had yelled at me about and about which I had apologized to Jeff.

We did not communicate very well the next few days and it was my fault. If we could make it through Sunday afternoon we would be fine.

-------

I'm not sure of the origin of the wedding rehearsal dinner. I'm pretty sure Jeff could give me the history, but I suspect I would want to scream before he got done.

We don't have a rehearsal. After that, we have the rehearsal dinner. I can't explain it; that's just how it is.

Jeff's parents invited all of his family, all of my family and everyone in the wedding party. Jeff said they should have invited a few armed guards. He thought he was being amusing. I did not.

Sunny told me what would be happening at the dinner and when I seemed confused, she explained.

"There are two main reasons to have the dinner and you can fashion it to accomplish either or both.

"There are guests coming in from out of town. They may not be familiar with the area. They may have no idea where to go or what to do while they are in town. One of the purposes of the dinner is to thank them for traveling to be with us. It also avoids the need for them to find someplace to go for dinner that night.

"Many of them are family. Some are friends. They probably have not met the other side of the family to be. This offers them the opportunity to meet under comfortable circumstances to get to know a little about each other.

"The second purpose of the dinner is to bring in the wedding party and acknowledge their contributions and relationships to the couple. Some of them may be from out of town as well.

"We decided to bring both groups together.

"We're having hors d'oeuvres to start so people will have a chance to mix and meet those they don't know. After that opportunity we'll have a buffet so people can choose with whom they would like to sit. That also makes it easier to sit at more than one table over the duration of the event so they can pursue those new relationships or simply visit with those with whom they are comfortable.

"That's why Louis and I decided to do it this way."

Who knew?

She also explained that, since the groom's parents hosted the event, typically the groom's father would offer a toast or say some words. The bride's father would have his opportunity at the wedding, at which her parents were the hosts. The bride or groom might respond at the dinner, but at the wedding were customarily limited to, "Thank you for coming."

"Is there a handbook?" I asked.

"Of course, there is. In fact, many places you might choose to host the event have their own handbooks," Sunny said.

"No way."

"Yes way."

-------

The evening did not play out the way Sunny anticipated.

The dinner was held on Friday night instead of Saturday to give us some extra time to relax and prepare for the wedding.

The hors d'oeuvres and cocktails did give everyone the opportunity to mix and meet. Jeff's family went out of their way to try to establish some rapport with mine with not much success. It was as if my family knew they were better and didn't need to be bothered to get to know anybody else.

There were some exceptions, but it was like being back in high school with everybody divided up into cliques which could intersect only briefly when they met on some common ground.

My focus was moving away from being annoyed with Jeff to feeling sorry for myself to be related to these people.

My spirits were buoyed by getting to spend time with Hari and Sam and with Sunny and Louis. I enjoyed talking with Jen and Rich as well. I had been growing increasingly fond of Rich independent of how happy he made Jen.

But it was absolutely impossible to remain in a funk around the irrepressible Sandy. Her energy and enthusiasm could have powered the entire city of Philadelphia. She was just barely shy of giddy.

I talked with my family as well, but tried to get through it as quickly as I possible so I could remain cheerful.

Unsurprisingly, the food was good. Quite surprisingly, the atmosphere and the food combined to put almost everyone in a good mood, including my family.

I hadn't seen Sabrina, which was strange because she was not accustomed to letting her presence go unnoticed.

After the buffet started I found myself seated at a table with Jeff, Jen, Rich, Sandy and Barb, Barbie and Naomi from my twenty-first birthday intoxication party.

Cousins Tyler and Malcolm stood nearby almost salivating over the unattached women at our table.

"So, Rich, does this give you any ideas?" asked Jeff.

"Jeff!" I scolded.

Everybody else at the table just laughed.

"Yes, it does," said Rich.

He rose from his seat and got down on one knee. Jen's eyes bulged with shock.

"Jen, would you do me the honor of helping me figure out how to make these cocktail franks come out so perfect?"

The reaction at our table was enough to draw the attention of most of the room.

Jen smacked Rich's arm.

He pointed at Jeff and said, "It was his idea."

"I just innocently wondered aloud what would happen if..."

What was most important about this to me was that Jeff was playful. That meant we were no longer arguing or fighting or out of synch or whatever.

Later in the evening, Louis got up to speak.

"We want to thank you all for coming here tonight. It's a delight to look out and see so many happy faces. I'm guessing there is going to be a pretty sizeable bar tab.

"It is my understanding that spending this kind of money entitles me to bore you with a few words.

"Children can be a source of great pride and satisfaction. Children can also suck the life out of you and make you regret that you failed to use contraception. Jeff was a child that made you realize that loving him meant never having to say you were sorry."

As I looked around I wasn't the only one finding this strange, though I thought Louis was probably having fun with us.

"I remember his first parent-teacher conference in first grade. Miss Grant asked us who was the man behind the screen. She said there was no way a six year old could know that much or speak that way.

"That was a pattern throughout his school career. But what made us proudest was when a teacher told us how politely he corrected his or her errors. There was no ego to it; he just wanted to be helpful.

"Jeff has never gotten in trouble. That's not because he just followed rules blindly. Jeff was always willing to violate a rule when he worked out it didn't make sense.

"What I'm trying to say is that if I had been able to pick anyone in the world for a son, it would be Jeff.

"I've known many women in my life."

He hesitated and got a confused look and shook his head.

"No, that must have been somebody else." That drew pretty good laughter.

"But I have met enough to know that when Jeff brought Ashley home to meet us he continued his tradition of making stellar choices. I could not design a better daughter-in-law and friend to the whole family. She shows her love and generosity every time we see her.

"So I toast the continued happiness and my appreciation of Jeff and Ashley."

People were raising their glasses and joining in the toast.

"Especially Ashley," said Louis.

Then Sandy stood up to speak.

"Following our time-honored tradition, of either ignoring traditions we don't like or making up new ones we do like, in my official capacity as sister of the groom, I, too, would like to wish them both every happiness.

"Especially Ashley, in my official capacity of unofficial sister of the bride to be, who has treated me far better than any sibling I've ever heard of, except Jeff. They're quite a special pair." And she lifted her glass.

The evening was suffused with heartfelt expressions of affection and good will.

When people started to leave I was still floating.

When I left the room to go to the ladies room I saw Sabrina. She looked morose; almost in shock. I walked over to her and asked, "Where have you been?"

"I couldn't decide whether to come."

"You're kind of late," I said.

"Yeah, well."

Neither of us said anything for a while.

"I have to tell you. I'm so ashamed. I finally decided you had to know."

She was reluctant to continue, so I asked, "Know what?"

"Monday, after dinner, when you were with the family I was upstairs. I flirted with Jeff, just like I did a bunch of times before; just playing around; nothing serious. But this time Jeff kept pressing, and I, well, I let him seduce me.

"I felt terrible afterwards, but, God, does he know what he's doing."

She wouldn't meet my eyes while she was telling me except when she raved about how good he was.

"I'm so sorry, Ashley. I'm so damn competitive I guess I let myself get carried away." She started to cry.

When she regained her composure she said, "I didn't know whether to tell you. I talked to your father last night and he said it was up to me, but he thought you needed to know before you made a big mistake. I finally got the courage to come here and tell you."

This was what I thought I would be getting into if I had settled for Pietro Cohen or Etienne Roth. Wasn't there any guy who could keep it in his pants?

Just then, my father came out into the hall headed towards the men's room. His casual demeanor changed when he saw me with Sabrina. He headed our way.

"I assume you've told her," he said to Sabrina.

"Yes."

"Ashley, I'm so sorry. I always had a bad feeling about that boy. That first time we met at our house I talked to him in study he strongly implied he could be bribed into find a way to end it with you for a substantial sum. He casually mentioned a million dollars.

"You may have heard us yelling through the door. I was incensed and threatened to tell you, but I didn't want you hurt so I didn't say anything. I'm sorry now that I didn't. I could have saved you a lot more pain if I had acted then."

He put his arms around me and uttered vague, reassuring phrases.

What do I do? Has this whole thing with Jeff been a lie? Has he kept this up, done all this to get close to my inheritance? I was nauseous.

All that talk of how wonderful I was, how it had always been there just waiting to come out was total bullshit. I would have been much better off maintaining my life of colorless contentment rather than building up my hopes for boundless happiness only to have them dashed so callously.

I saw Jeff heading our way looking oh so cool.

"Ashley, are you coming back in? People have been looking for you to say goodbye."

"You asshole! How could you do this to me? I can't believe I trusted you."

I had to hand it to him. He was turning into a consummate actor himself. He displayed a look of utter bewilderment.

He didn't look at Sabrina or my father, as if he had no idea what they had to do with this. He was so smooth.

"Aside from the fact that's a hell of a way to talk to me, what the hell are you talking about?"

"As if you didn't know."

"Ashley -"

"Don't you say a word to me, asshole!"

His facial expression changed to a level of anger I had never seen from him. It was frightening. He turned and headed for the exit.

"Where are you going?" I asked in an angry voice.

"Do you care?" he asked in a tone of voice that said he did not believe I did. Then he said, "I'm going somewhere to think. And don't you mean where are you going, and I quote, asshole?"

He turned and continued toward the door.

"Jeff," I said sharply.

He turned and walked out the door without looking back.



-------

Chapter 77


"Don't worry about it," my father said. "I'll take care of everything. I'll get my staff on it. They'll contact everyone to let them know the wedding is off."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know what he did. I saw what just happened. You really can't afford to hesitate. People are expecting a wedding in under forty-eight hours."

I needed time to assimilate this.

"Well, that isn't enough time for them to make alternative plans, so we'll just stick with the wedding until I figure out what I want to do."

"Now, Ashley -"

"Was I unclear? Is English a foreign language?"

"No need to be rude. I'm not the one who cheated."

"Now who's being rude?"

He didn't answer.

"I'll let you know what I plan to do."

I walked out the door

What did I want? What did I know?

I had an accusation from Sabrina the reliability of which was backed up by her telling my father and supposedly trying to figure out what to do.

She seemed to be telling the truth. I had not seen any indications of deception in her behavior or her body language.

My father had made an allegation about Jeff's motive for pursuing me. There was no doubt they had a loud, acrimonious argument about something after dinner the night my parents met Jeff. Neither would tell me a thing about it so, clearly, it was serious.

My father had persisted in suggesting character flaws in Jeff. Was it out of concern for me?

Jeff had persisted in suggesting my father was up to something; trying to break us up. Was he just setting the stage to counter my father's future allegations against him? Was he trying to get me so suspicious of my father that I wouldn't believe anything he said? Had he convinced me there was a conspiracy and brought me into the battle to counter it for the purpose of casting so much doubt on my father it would be impossible for me to recognize any sincerity on his part?

Whoever was playing me, I had just taken a strong stand against each of them.

I had a nagging suspicion I had screwed up, but I was too tired to work it out. I would be better able to think after a good night's sleep. Alas, sleep did not come easily until I realized what I should have known all along: Jeff wouldn't do that.

Jeff had been right all along and, however briefly, I had been sucked in. It was well after midnight, but I called his cell. I was told to leave a message.

"Jeff, please call me. I'm so sorry I doubted you. We need to talk. Call anytime."

I had done what I could. It enabled me to sleep.

I woke at 10:00. Jeff hadn't called.

Lunch time arrived. Jeff hadn't called.

I didn't know what to do. I called Jen.

"Jen, I can't believe it. I'm the TSTL from those romance novels."

"That seems unlikely. What did you do?"

"Sabrina concocted a story that Jeff seduced her and had my father to back it up. I kind of believed it for a minute."

"How do you know it was concocted?"

"Jeff."

"Yeah."

"What do I do?"

"Talk to him."

"He isn't calling me back."

"Then wait."

Does anyone ever realize how galling it is to be told to be patient? It's always the only thing you can think about and they tell you to just sit back and wait until it happens. I'll bet when somebody tells them to be patient they want to plunge a dagger in her face.

I called the Goldberg home. Sandy answered.

"Sandy, do you know where Jeff is?"

"You really stepped in it."

"I know. I did a TSTL."

"What the hell is that?"

"Don't you read romance novels?"

"Not really."

"It stands for Too Stupid To Live. It's when the heroine, it's never the guy, does something so stupid you want to yell at the book and say no human would ever do that. And it makes you think that if he can take her back after that he wasn't worth it after all."

"I like that: Too Stupid To Live."

"I'm glad you're entertained. I don't even know if I'm still getting married. I've got to talk to Jeff."

"He'll call you when he's ready. Have some faith in him."

"That's the problem. We're supposed to be getting married and I didn't trust him."

"He'll talk with you. Just be patient."

"Yeah."

Does anyone at all ever realize how galling it is to be told to be patient? How could I have faith in him? I didn't know if I deserved to be forgiven.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sandy said.

She sounded awfully cheerful. Was it her excitement over an event that might never happen?

Whom do I call now? I wanted to talk to Sunny, but that would mean calling the house again and I would sound pretty desperate because I was.

It occurred to me something else was wrong. I went looking for my father.

When I told him I wanted to discuss some things he said, "How can I help?"

This was not my father.

"Let's talk in your study. We may not want to be overheard."

His face showed concern with my ominous suggestion.

"You said Jeff suggested a bribe of one million dollars?"

"Yes, he did."

"Doesn't that strike you as awfully low? He makes a quarter million straight out of school with Second Foundation. And he's also a part-time professor with opportunities for consulting. In the not too distant future he could be making that million every year. Why would he ask for that little?"

"Well, you've got to remember he wasn't working then. He was in school. He had no idea what he would be making. That amount would have seemed like a lot of money to a young man."

"Yes, he did know what he would be paid. He was already getting paid quite a lot for working over the summer and during school breaks. Among the things Jeff knows really well is numbers. He knows exactly what kind of financial position he would be in and a million dollars wouldn't change it very much.

"And that doesn't even include the money I have available from my trust fund. It just doesn't make any sense. Even if he asked for ten times that it doesn't make any sense."

Did I see something in my father's eyes when I said that? I wasn't sure.

"Are you saying I lied?"

"I'm saying it makes no sense. There must have been something else going on that you're not telling me about. It may be something you don't remember or didn't give any thought at the time, but something is missing."

And if it was true, he knew damn well the content and significance of the missing information.

"I don't know what to tell you, Ashley. It might have been that I was so incensed at his mention of the money I missed something important. I can't say. All I can do is tell you what he said."

I shook my head. "It just doesn't make any sense."

Dad looked like he was deciding whether to say anything else.

"You're not still going to marry that boy, are you? With that kind of behavior what will you have to put up with in the future?"

That boy? He didn't even have a name? I controlled my temper much better than I had the previous night. I wanted to flatten my father, but I decided it would be better to have all the facts I could before a confrontation.

"That's still the plan. I expect to talk to Jeff before that, but, as far as I know, we're still going to have a wedding tomorrow. I'll let you know if anything changes."

I walked out before he could say anything else.



-------

Chapter 78


Yes, there would be a wedding ready to go tomorrow evening. I just didn't know if there would be a groom in attendance.

I couldn't decide what to beat myself up over first: that I had not listened to Jeff when he warned me about my father, that I had somehow believed Jeff could have done what he was accused of, or that I let my guard down and had given any credence to my father's allegations.

I was engulfed in agitation. I wanted to do something, but all the advice I had been given said to be patient. I wasn't a patient kind of girl.

There are some things about which you have no choice whether to be patient or do something. Your twenty-first birthday will come twenty-one years after you are born; no sooner and no later. The Fourth of July celebration will come on the Fourth of July; no sooner and no later. You may have an anticipatory celebration, but it isn't a Fourth of July celebration. Eighteen years after you are born you gain the right to vote.

There are many other things that may actually require patience, especially things in someone else's control. Often, however, they only appear to require patience. Even if someone else is in control you may have the opportunity or opportunities to influence their decision or action.

On the other hand, sometimes you succeed in influencing them. By pushing too soon or too hard you push them to close their minds to the alternative you seek.

Given the choice of doing nothing, which actually is doing something, or doing something, I preferred to take action.

This was great. I had come to a decision. Do something.

What?

I got in my car and drove to the Goldberg's house. I didn't see Jeff's car. That fit my plan. If Jeff were here I would not have tried to talk to him. I did not want to press the issue. With Jeff gone, I planned to try to talk to Sunny. I didn't want her to plead my case to Jeff, I wanted her advice.

I walked up to the door and hesitated only briefly before I rang the bell with not a little trepidation. What would I say if Sandy answered?

The door swung open. "Ashley."

"Hi, Sandy. Is Sunny in?" It was much easier than I had imagined.

She smiled. "She's in her office."

"Thanks."

"You are very wise, you know."

"Thank you."

After I turned and headed for Sunny's office I heard her call, "When you're not being too stupid to live."

Family.

"Hi, Sunny."

"Hi, Ashley."

"I went a little bit crazy last night."

"I heard."

"I could use a bit of advice."

"I figured that from what Sandy told me. TSTL, huh?"

"Yeah."

"So, what you need to do is talk with Jeff about it?"

"Yes. And everybody keeps telling me to be patient. It's driving me crazy."

"Well, you need to talk to Jeff about it."

"Yes!" Somebody understood; victory.

"When he's ready to talk to you."

I knew that. I didn't want to push him as long as he would do it now. My face must have shown my disappointment.

"There is no point in talking with him until he's ready. It's like trying to do calculus before you learn algebra."

Sunny read my expression.

"That's what Jeff told me. I didn't quite get it either, but I'm sure it's a good analogy. This is a tough one. Maybe it's more like you can't explain something to somebody else until you understand it yourself. I don't know; that could be right.

"In any event, I am sure you won't accomplish anything useful by talking to Jeff before he's ready."

"So ... another vote for patience."

Sunny smiled and nodded.

"Maybe I could get a second opinion."

Sunny laughed. "I thought you did."

I rolled my eyes. "More than one second opinion."

"So, have you learned anything?" she asked.

"Trust Jeff."

"He's not perfect, you know."

"No. But, he's trustworthy."

She nodded. "So you got something useful out of this."

"Only if I still have Jeff."

Sunny rocked forward and back from her waist up.

"Now I understand the desire for urgency."

She was unreadable. I couldn't tell what she knew or if she knew anything at all.

I raised my shoulders. "So, what can you tell me?"

"I don't know anything," she said.

I sighed.

"If I did know anything, I wouldn't tell you. Jeff would have to do that."

I knew. That didn't make me like it.

"Go do something with your friends. Make plans. Go shopping. Go food shopping if you have to. Go bowling."

That was the first thing that lightened my mood.

"You know, Ashley, people worry about a lot of things over which they have no control whatsoever. They also worry about some things over which they do have some control. If you have some control, do something. But, I've never heard of a case where worrying fixes a problem over which one has no control."

"So, I just shouldn't worry?"

"Right."

"Do you know anyone who has that kind of control?"

She thought about it briefly. "No."

"So just go bowling?"

Sunny laughed.

"Sandy, how would you like to go bowling?"

She gave me a look that said I should be involuntarily committed for evaluation.

"Okay, how about shopping?" I asked.

"Now you're talking."

I didn't know if I was going to lose Jeff. Even if I did, I didn't want to lose his family.




-------

Chapter 79


I slept in late on Sunday. The less time I was awake, the less time I would have to worry.

My bridesmaids gathered at my house by 11:00. I had ordered in staff to do hair, nails, makeup and whatever else might be necessary to make everybody look as good as they possibly could.

I psyched myself up to project the impression that everything was just fine. I even persuaded myself to believe it until I received proof to the contrary.

Beautification was accompanied by a brunch buffet. I rejected Sabrina's suggestion that we hire strippers.

Either no one had heard about the blowup Friday night or everyone was able to successfully pretend they knew nothing because the atmosphere was festive and anticipatory. I began to believe it myself, which made it easy for me to play my role.

Sandy was having a great time listening to all the stories and the good-natured denigration of men. With her hair and makeup done she looked captivating. She was going to have no end of men chasing after her if they could accept that she was much smarter than they were.

I asked my seamstress to come at 1:00 just in case any of the girls had last-minute problems with their gowns. When I tried mine on she said, "Oh, my goodness," with alarm.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I think you may actually have lost an ounce or two."

"Nobody likes a smartass," I said. But I smiled at her.

At 2:30 it was time to take it to the hotel. We wanted to start the final preparations at 3:00 so there would be enough time to make sure all the logistics were properly in place. We had a wedding scheduled to start at 5:00.

-------

By 4:00 there was still no sign of Jeff. I can't deny I was starting to worry. The wedding was scheduled to start in an hour.

Of course, there really was at least an hour and a half before we would start. Even if the invitation said, "5:00 P.M. promptly," you were pretty safe showing up a half an hour late. Promptly meant or maybe thirty minutes after that in Jewish People's Time, though every now and then somebody would be rude enough to start an event at the stated time. I don't know the parameters of the leeway, but there was a similar concept of CPT.

I've heard that other religions and ethnic groups start their events on time, but I had never actually been to one so, as far as I'm concerned, those allegations are just baseless speculation.

I was sure I had told Jeff we wanted to take pictures before the ceremony. Maybe I hadn't. Every now and then I dream something I planned to do or say. I convinced myself I had actually done it, but that didn't make it so.

What other reason could there be for Jeff showing up so late? Traffic? Car trouble?

At 4:35 my father stopped by.

"Where the hell is he? I told you he was not right. Still think he's coming?"

My dad was being as supportive as he always had.

"Would you please get out of here? I'm nervous enough as it is."

I was amazed at how pleasant I sounded. I had shown impressive control. I wanted to end the sentence with "asshole" and much more venom than I had shown Friday night.

If this wedding did not happen it would be my father's fault. I would never tell him that. It wasn't that I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I didn't want him to be proud and satisfied with that accomplishment.

I walked over to Sandy, trying to look casual.

"Is he coming?" I'm sure I was starting to betray some doubt and fear.

"Of course, he's coming," she said. "Either way he'll be here. Jeff just doesn't have it in him to not show up."

"What do you mean either way?"

"I don't know anything. I'm just saying Jeff will be here."

I sighed and looked at my watch. It was 4:36. I was sure my father had left at least ten minutes ago.

"Sorry," I said to Sandy.

I casually walked over to Jen.

"Have you seen Rich?"

"No. And I think that's unusual. But, every once in a while something different happens and it doesn't mean anything."

Great. Now I'm reassured.

I glanced at my watch. It was still 4:36. Was this thing working?

The photographer came in. He wanted to start taking some pictures.

"Where is the groom?" he asked.

"He's not ready yet," I said. I didn't know if he was not ready yet to take pictures or to get married.

The photographer proceeded to take pictures of the female half of the wedding party. That included some of the bride.

He seemed to be doing a thorough job, but when I looked at my watch it was only 4:41. I was sure somebody had tampered with my watch. I casually glanced at Jen's watch. It showed 4:41.

I heard a small commotion by the door to the suite. Jeff stood there wearing denim jeans, white socks, black sneakers and a purple wife beater.

He walked over to me and said, "Ashley, we need to talk."



-------

Chapter 80


This did not look good. Jeff had never wowed me with his sartorial splendor, but this outfit was not anybody's concept of wedding attire.

He led me into a bathroom and closed the door for privacy. Was this a metaphor for flushing our wedding down the toilet?

"Couldn't we have done this just a little bit earlier?" I asked. "We're supposed to start in around fifteen minutes."

"They never start when they're scheduled; I'm pretty sure that would cause a rift in the time-space continuum."

I suddenly realized everything would be alright. I had misjudged Jeff yet again.

"I needed time to think. And," he blushed, "I was being childish. I wanted you to suffer."

"I'm so relieved."

He looked surprised and uncomprehending.

"You're not perfect."

"Not by a long shot."

"I didn't trust you. I should have known, but I didn't trust you. And again, today, I didn't know what you were going to do. I should have just trusted you."

"How do you know what I'm going to do?" Jeff asked.

"You were late; very late."

"You've lost me, Ashley."

"You would never have come this late if you weren't going to go through with it. You would never allow all these guests to come and wait only to be told there would not be a wedding. You could have made a decision not to marry me and to punish me harshly for my lack of trust. But, you could never make all these guests suffer to carry that out."

"Nice bit of deduction, Watson. Or maybe you're Holmes. I'm not sure."

I grabbed him and hugged him as hard as I could. He hugged me back.

"I love you, stupid. And you deserve that name for being too stupid to live. I've pieced together what happened from what you told Mom and Sandy. This would have been a much more difficult decision if you hadn't realized on your own what you had done.

"If you had carried your attitude through today I probably would have shown up earlier and called it off."

My heart felt like it stopped at that possibility.

"We might have been able to get over it later. But, if you needed somebody else to tell you what you had done, I think that would have been the end. I would never have been able to trust you if you couldn't trust me until somebody told you that you should. I would have no idea what your limits would be if you couldn't figure out you were wrong."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know. So, tell me, why exactly was I an asshole?"

I winced. I didn't just fail to trust him; I went nuts.

"Well, first, Sabrina told me you seduced her."

Jeff started to laugh and he didn't seem to be able to stop.

"She's gorgeous. She's almost as beautiful as I am."

"No."

"She's really smart. She may be as smart as I am."

Jeff was shaking his head. "I don't think so. It wouldn't matter anyway."

"Why not? She could be a real prize."

"She would be fool's gold."

"I don't understand."

"She appears to have essentially the same qualities you have. She doesn't. You could sweat a drop of your empathy and lose more than she has to begin with. The only person she would make an effort to find the perfect gift for is Sabrina. She has that hard edge you appeared to have. Hers is real."

"Oh." I was again unsure of his assessment of me. He was dead on about Sabrina.

"What did Ebenezer contribute to the merriment?"

"He backed up her story. He said she told him not long after it happened. In my defense, what little there is of it, she is a really good actress. She didn't show any sign of deception."

"In your defense?"

I held up my hands and turned away. I had no defense.

Jeff's brow furrowed. He looked doubtful. I looked worried.

"There has to be more. That's as flimsy as him saying, "Please allow me to offer you a red herring.' It isn't just that I don't think you would buy it; he would never think he could sell that by itself. So how did he season it?"

"Well, even with what he added, there's something missing. I couldn't get him to tell me what."

"I'm sorry, Ashley, I'm unable to read your mind. Forget what's missing and tell me what isn't. What did he say?"

"Do you remember the loud conversation you had with him in his study? The one you didn't want to talk about?"

Jeff tensed up. "I remember."

"He told me he hadn't mentioned it before because he didn't want to hurt me. He said you suggested you could be bought off for a million dollars."

"What?"

Even with the door closed that would have been heard by anyone in the next room and probably anyone near the door in the hallway. It evinced absolute shock and a depth of anger I hadn't thought possible.

He opened the door of the bathroom.

"I'll clear this room out. Get Mephistopheles in here. We're going to have a negotiation."

"Mephistopheles?"

"Ebenezer. No, get to Sabrina first. Put on a show for her. Pour on the tears. Tell her she's ruined your life; chased away your one true love. She's dumb enough to buy you being that sappy. Then tell her I want to see her, but you're not sure she should do it. I look angry enough to hurt her. Then bring in that sack of slime who alleges he is your father."

It wouldn't take any acting to convey that Jeff looked angry enough to hurt her. I wasn't sure he wouldn't.



-------

Chapter 81


"This is why you needed to see me?" my father said, gesturing toward Jeff.

"What did you do to Sabrina? That poor girl ran off like she was being chased by a posse."

Jeff smiled. "That's an apt analogy. A posse would be appropriate for her role in this. But I have no doubt you are the mastermind of this deal with the devil."

"I don't have to put up with this disrespect," my father said. He turned to leave.

"Hey, Dad, don't be that way," Jeff said oozing sarcasm.

My father turned and looked like he was ready to hit Jeff.

"If you walk out of this room without our reaching an understanding I'll unleash so much damage on your bank that you'll still be digging out when your grandchildren, whom you will never see, graduate college."

"Another bluff. You're so full of shit."

"I never told Ashley what we talked about in your study. As little as she thought of you, I didn't think your relationship would ever recover if she knew."

"Well, now she knows you asked me for a million dollars to dump her."

"Dad, Dad, that makes so little sense you couldn't even sell it to your mother."

My father advanced on Jeff.

"I laughed in your face when you offered me ten million dollars to stop seeing her. You sounded like a joke of a medieval king. Didn't you think for a nanosecond about the destruction it could cause to your relationship with Ashley? Didn't you think for a nanosecond about the rift that would cause in your relationship with Joanne? Did you give a hot damn what it would do to Ashley?

"I sucked up your vile, smarmy attitude because I didn't want Ashley hurt. You could have escaped that damage if you had kept your stupid mouth shut."

"What do you know, you pissant?" My father stopped, realizing his mistake, not that he could have saved the situation. He had not denied offering Jeff ten million dollars.

I would have believed Jeff anyway.

"I've had enough of you," my father said.

"There is no way I can fix the damage you have done to Ashley and your relationship with her. But if you don't admit your role in this to her and refrain from any future disruptive effort or even so much as an unkind word about us, we will let everybody know what you did."

My father seemed amused. "Do you think anyone would believe either of you over me? You're just a scheming, gold digger and she's been swept away in your thrall."

Jeff gave him a look of pity. "Even now, do you hear what you're doing to her? You disgust me."

My father tensed and said, "It's been fun, but I have to be going."

"I talked with my CEO about you." Jeff said it quietly, casually.

Dad turned and shrugged. "So what?"

"Second Foundation will never use your bank for any kind of financing."

"Gee, how will I ever survive that?" my father mocked.

"Then he will talk to every other biotech and pharmaceutical at their conferences and let them know we have no confidence that your bank will keep its word. We're worried you'll try to cook something up to your benefit and our detriment."

"So what?"

"You will never be involved in an IPO, secondary offering, or any kind of financing in the entire industry."

My father shrugged.

"And this not-so-secret problem will become known to other industries. We won't have to go to them. When they hear of our mistrust and lack of confidence it will spread like a communicable disease.

"Their executives will be loath to have any association linking them to the bank; not so much as a savings bond held in a safe-deposit box.

"As many contacts as you have in government, everyone else combined has way more. You won't be able to afford the campaign contributions it would take to outweigh their clout."

My father remained silent.

"Do you have any questions or smart-ass remarks, Dad?"

My father remained silent.

"Do you require any clarifications?"

"No."

"Don't you mean no, pissant?"

My father didn't say a word.

I didn't realize I had been crying. Jeff took me in his arms. He had been audacious to think I would go along with whatever he said without question. He had complete trust in how I would act because he knew who I was.

My father might have thought Jeff was playing this up to achieve the greatest leverage from this confrontation. He would have been wrong.

I had never seen Jeff this angry. I didn't know Jeff could get this angry. The most amazing thing about it was Jeff was as out of control as he could possibly be, while remaining under control.

"Next, you're going to go out there now and not only give your daughter away, you will give her away with great pleasure.

"Next, when you make your speech, tell us how proud you are knowing Ashley will be making significant contributions in whatever she chooses to do. Don't feel compelled to mention me, even with a pronoun. I'll survive the slight.

"Last, when you're considering your very generous wedding gift, the most valuable thing you can give me is to never have to see your smarmy face again. If Ashley decides she wants to see you, I'll conquer my revulsion for her sake.

"Have I made anything unclear? Is there anything you need explained, Dad?"

"You can't talk to me like that outside this room. It would be humiliating."

"Who do you think I am, Dad, you? I wouldn't do that, even to you, except to retaliate for a similar humiliation."

My father slowly walked to the door, opened it, and closed it as he left the room.

I didn't know whether to say anything until Jeff's adrenaline rush subsided.

"I guess I should change into my tux," Jeff said.

"Jeff, you didn't leave him with a shred of dignity."

"He never had a shred of dignity to begin with."

Wow. No hesitation. Not a hint of vacillation. Not a scintilla of regret. He did what he had to do and held nothing back.

I tried to emulate a male voice. "Don't make Jeff angry. You wouldn't like him when he's angry."

He started to laugh.

"Really? The Incredible Hulk? You never cease to amaze me."

"I never get tired of hearing that."

He put his arm around my shoulder.

"Let's go get married," he said.



-------

Chapter 82


I don't think I had ever adequately expressed to Jeff how lucky I was to have found him. After I had failed to trust him, I promised myself to let him know how much I valued him.

There are traditional songs played while the bride walks down the aisle. At Jewish weddings the most common is Dodi Li, my beloved is mine. It continues and I am his. I would be saying that shortly.

I was pretty traditional and my family was traditional as well. To show Jeff how I felt about him, I decided to break with tradition. It would probably be more accurate to say I did not break with tradition, I smashed it to smithereens.

As we paused at the door, my father had that big, happy smile Jeff had insisted upon.

I saw Jeff waiting in the front of the room with a calm, serene smile. When the music started it changed to a huge, ebullient smile as he started swaying to the music. My father's smile turned to a look of shock. He forgot to walk with me when I started down the aisle to the intro to Believe it or Not, the theme from the television show The Greatest American Hero.

Like dominoes, the look of astonishment spread on the bride's side of the room. Like dominoes, the delighted smiles spread on the groom's side.

I walked very slowly down the aisle. I wanted to give the quartet adequate time to finish, a little over three minutes.

Just over a minute in I started to belt out the second verse:

"Just like the light of a new day, it hit me from out of the blue breaking me out of the spell I was in making all of my wishes come true."

I focused on Jeff as I sang it. He started laughing with a happy, loving expression on his face.

At the chorus he joined in, harmonizing. "Believe it or not I'm walking on air." That was followed immediately by all of his side joining in and a modest representation of mine as well.

As if it had been rehearsed, everyone else refrained from singing the bridge, but after "This is too good to be true," Jeff joined me singing, "look at me falling for you."

Most of the guests joined back in until the song was over. To my surprise, the string quartet had snuck in an electric guitar for the riff near the end.

When I reached Jeff, he engulfed me in his arms.

"You are absolutely amazing."

"Aw shucks."

"I'll be astonished if this doesn't wind up on YouTube," Jeff almost whispered.

The guests quieted down and the rabbi broke script.

"I've known Jeff for quite a while. I met Ashley more recently. I would not have been surprised if Jeff had pulled something like this. But, Ashley, I never imagined you would so delightfully set tradition on its ear.

"Jeff, I think you're in for quite a ride."

We stood under the chuppah, my parents to my left and Jeff's to his right.

"We have Jeff's grandmother, Hari, to thank for this bright, colorful design on the canopy. Her specialty is jewelry, but Hari is clearly an artist.

"As we stand here beneath the chuppah, you will notice its fragility. These poles are adequate to hold our canopy, but we have no illusion that this is a formidable structure. So are a marriage and home fragile structures. It takes a lot of work and attention to keep them vital and vibrant."

This was not the most important day of my life that brides obsessed over; the day I'm queen of the world. This was the continuation of an adventure that was more fun and more satisfying than I could ever have imagined.

It was steeped with tradition. I walked around Jeff three times as a symbol that he was the center of my life.

It backed off from tradition. With the modern approach, Jeff walked around me to symbolize that I was the center of his life. We walked the final circle around each other.

Some people believe that bad things happen in threes. We Jews are prone to doing things in sevens. As we made our seven circles, the rabbi recited the sheva brachot - the seven blessings.

The rabbi recited some Hebrew which Jeff repeated, which translates to "Behold, you are consecrated to me with this ring." Jeff then placed my ring on my right index finger, thought in biblical times to be closest to the heart.

I said "Ani l'dodi, ve dodi li," and placed his on his left ring finger.

"It came as no surprise to me," said our rabbi, "that the bride and groom wanted to add their own vows to those traditionally spoken. And why shouldn't they? Jeff."

Jeff and I were facing each other. He walked by me on my left. What the hell was he doing? Was he walking out?

I felt him behind me. I looked over my shoulder and he had his back to me. He was standing behind me in a defensive position, looking straight at my father.

"Ashley, I will always have your back. You won't need me for all the wonderful things I know you will accomplish. But you can be confident I will be with you all the way, supporting you and making sure you come to no harm."

I got chills. I think everyone got chills, even my father, though his were from fear of what Jeff would do if he tried to harm me.

Jeff returned to his position facing me.

"Really?" I said, like I couldn't believe it. "That's the act I have to follow?"

"Don't worry," Jeff said. "I've got your back."

I swear, the audience, I mean the guests, was responding like this was a comedy club.

"For starters, in case you somehow missed it, you're my hero."

"That's not exactly a vow," Jeff said.

"It's the preface."

We were having fun with each other, like we always did, except there was a crowd of over three hundred listening in.

"I promise to live up to your expectations. If I can't do it right away, I'll figure out how.

"I promise to assume you know what you're doing or talking about unless you indicate to the contrary, because you do.

"I promise to use subterfuge, nag, kvetch and do whatever it takes to keep you healthy enough to become an old man.

"And I promise to find the value in nerds, especially my nerd."

Trust Jeff not to let this go.

"You know, the term nerd was first used in If I Ran the Zoo, by Dr. Seuss. Despite the undesirable characteristics attributed to nerds, many of them are just the manifestation of their desire to choose their own direction in life rather than follow what society tells them it expects. Peter Parker was a nerd."

"You're citing Spider Man in defense of nerds? That was a comic book."

"Hey, guys," the rabbi interrupted. "Remember me? We're here to have a wedding. Start the honeymoon later.

"Jeff, since we're deviating from the plot again, would you like to speak about the breaking of the cup?"

Jeff turned around and spoke.

"First, I have been prevailed upon to limit the fascinating background related to the breaking of the cup, because we all want to finish tonight.

"There are many reasons ascribed to it, but we have negotiated a deal to accept the meaning as another reminder of the frailty of life and relationships. There is evidence that the ritual derived from two incidents in which the presiding rabbi smashed a glass to calm down the revelry, lest it get out of hand. So we choose to remember even joyous occasions can turn in an instant.

"Some have said the breaking is wasteful. In the times in which our traditions developed, people could ill afford to waste.

"It is a Goldberg family tradition to modify or discard traditions as we see fit. As the tradition has changed from breaking a wine glass to permitting the substitution of a light bulb, we have changed the tradition further.

"You heard my grandmother, Hari, made our beautiful canopy. My grandfather, her husband, Sam, made our cup, which I will soon break. He made it from a confection of sugars and honey and hardened it so we could actually drink from it without destroying it prematurely.

"After it is smashed, Sam will be able to recycle it into something sinfully delicious and, sadly, caloric."

Jeff wrapped the cup in a cloth napkin, placed it on the floor and stomped on it.

It was followed by a chorus of Mazel tov, which Jeff told me was not for his act of destruction, but that the wedding ceremony was over and almost everybody was happy about that.



-------

Chapter 83


Almost everyone in attendance took the time to speak with us during the cocktail hour, but we actively sought out the ones we wanted to tell how happy we were to have them there.

Most people have been to enough of these events to develop a repertoire of greetings from supportive to laudatory.

The majority of the people Jeff and I didn't know well would approach to shake our hands and start off with, "Congratulations," and then pause with an amused look on their faces as if they had no idea what to say next. Most would follow it with a slight head shake or shoulder shrug and say something like, "That was a new experience. It was fun."

I was amazed that just by being ourselves, Jeff and I had managed to encourage something often lacking at large public events - sincerity.

We had not been able to get all the "candid" shots like the bridesmaids finishing preparation with the bride, the garter shot and the spontaneous poses with all and sundry relatives smiling as if they had never been happier in their lives. My mother agreed we would be better served by taking actual candid shots than hunting down everyone who should be in a proper wedding album and delaying our arrival at dinner. We certainly would not be able to grab everyone who would be in those shots in the time allotted to hors d'oeuvres and cocktails.

I like hors d'oeuvres and cocktails. Jeff certainly seemed to like the hors d'oeuvres, but he didn't drink. I hadn't been able to get out of him whether that was because he didn't care for alcohol, or because it was illegal for him to drink it and he would not break the law gratuitously.

I was pretty sure he would become a law breaker if he felt the situation called for it, but underage drinking was not such a necessity.

"Now that's how a wedding is meant to be," I heard from my left. It was Sunny's mom, Hari. "An expression of who you are."

"I'm not quite sure I'm that girl, but I certainly felt like it today."

"We love you to pieces, Ashley. You should have a long and happy life together like Sam and me."

She gave me a big hug and so did Sam.

"We love you too, Jeff," she added. "But she's getting close."

Sam and Hari needed nothing to stimulate their sincerity. It was pretty much the only way they communicated.

They were followed closely by Sunny and Louis. He smiled, gave me a meaningful look and hugged me. He had started the meaningful looks and other forms of non-verbal communication after his heart attack. He saw me as having made a substantial contribution to his recovery. He might have been right.

"So, are we finally finished with having to convince you how wonderful you are?" asked Sunny. "That was pretty amazing."

People have a natural psychological affinity for their family. Even when the parents do a horrible job raising them, when they subject them to various kinds of abuse and neglect, children retain a strong bond of love for their parents whether they get along or not. I suppose that was the situation between my mother and me. But I loved her nowhere near as much as I loved Sunny.

Sunny had wonderful judgment, but was not judgmental. She gave great advice, but was not bothered if you didn't take it. I could talk about her at great length. It wouldn't suffice to express the wonderfulness of Sunshine Petal Goldberg. Her students agreed. She was the most popular professor at the University of Pennsylvania.

If Jeff had not been the most wonderful man I could imagine, his family would still have been the best friends it was possible to have.

Then the final member of his family came by. She was absolutely stunning. Sandy was also the most dynamic person I ever met. I don't mean she was perky or upbeat. She threw herself into things with unreserved gusto.

"Oh, my God. Jeff is so lucky."

It made me look at the flip side of my thought about his family. If I were not the reason he was so lucky, he would still have been so lucky because of his family.

I smiled. "Yes, he is."

Soon the hors d'oeuvres and cocktails ended and the wait staff was directing people to the dining room. I saw Jeff start to follow them.

"Jeff. Hold on. You can't go in there."

His look told me he had no idea what I was talking about.

"The band leader is going to announce your parents, my parents and then the bride and groom as they enter the room."

He made a face.

"I know I said you could do whatever you wanted for the wedding as long as we got married. Can we do without this spectacle? I didn't marry you for any kind of recognition. This feels kind of cheesy."

"My parents expect it and they mostly paid for this. I think your parents expect it too."

He frowned. "All right. I'll suck it up."

The band started to play and Jeff's parents were announced.

"This is it, right?" Jeff asked. "We're not going to have a procession of important people. He's not going to ask for your loving cousins?"

"I don't have any loving cousins."

"And they're not going to be introducing your parents' household staff. There will be no song showcasing the stable boys?"

"We don't have stable boys."

"All right, the unstable boys."

I slapped him on the arm.

"I'm serious. People who have had a hand in our lives and our relationship know who they are. Most of them don't need any recognition and aren't looking for it. The only recognition that may be of value to them is ours. And that they will certainly get."

I had never thought about it that way.

"How many weddings have you been to, Jeff? I think you're thinking of the stuff they do at bar mitzvahs."

"Well, I'm sure the band leader will tell us at some point who is to get out on the dance floor and with whom they will dance."

"You're right. But, it would be more trouble than it's worth at this point to change. I'm not sure the band leader could deal with any improvisation."

Jeff sighed.

"All right. But I'm not dancing with your father."



-------

Chapter 84


Jeff was right. So much of that stuff seemed stupid and almost pointless. Was it possible that in all those countless weddings before ours nobody had questioned them?

We heard the band leader introduce us.

"Do I wave like a political candidate or a beauty pageant contestant?"

"Don't you dare. Just smile and walk to our table."

I don't think he would have done his wave. I suspected he was joking. We walked to our table for two.

Jeff got a funny look as he saw the table.

"We've been living together since I was a freshman."

"That was last year," I said. "I didn't want us at a table with our parents. I had no idea what my father might say and this way, not only are we not with them, each family has a separate table."

"You are very wise. Now I understand the basis of this tradition."

"I don't think it was introduced to keep the peace."

"I'm sure it was," he said.

"You do know it's called a sweetheart table?"

"I had no idea. That could modify my theory."

Dinner festivities started with a hora which included most of the guests. It's a circle dance, most of which is the grapevine steps: turn left, right foot forward, turn right ninety degrees, left foot to the side, turn ninety degrees to face the direction from which you came, right foot back, turn left ninety degrees, left foot to the side. If you've ever watched a dance routine, you've seen this step.

Depending on the number of guests there may be quite a few concentric circles. This is traditionally the first dance at Jewish weddings.

I don't know where the tradition came from. I could look it up online, but I would be willing to bet I would find at least five different definitive answers.

We were included in another part of the tradition when Jeff and I were each hoisted up on chairs. We had expected this. What I had not expected was that Jeff was prepared with a cloth napkin. We each held one end.

Back when all Jews were orthodox, men and women did not mix in many activities, including prayer and celebrations. They would be separated by a partition called the mechitsa. The only connection the bride and groom would have was holding the opposite ends of a cloth.

The explanation I found on Wikipedia merited a spit laugh. Mingling of the genders might lead to frivolity which may lead to promiscuity. They didn't have football on TV back then to rigorously enforce the lack of mingling, though it has nothing to do with frivolity.

It made me think of Footloose and the prohibition against dancing. Dancing, of course is typically done with frivolity which might lead to promiscuity.

It felt like I was riding a roller coaster which was in actual jeopardy of flying off the tracks. These people needed to do some weight lifting before they tried this again.

We were served butternut squash soup before we started visiting the tables. Jeff got a thoughtful look when he took his first taste.

"Honey, ginger, nutmeg, this has got to be Sam's."

It was so good I groaned.

The first table we visited was Jeff's family. I looked at Sam. He smiled. I maintained my focus on him. He nodded.

"Exquisite," I said.

"My pleasure."

Jeff was an unexpected hit. Whatever animus my father may have spread, the story of a young nerd finishing college in a year followed by earning his Ph.D. and becoming a full professor in less than a year, all before he was old enough to drink, attracted considerable interest. People seemed to be trying to find a way to associate him with their businesses. I left him on his own.

I stopped by to speak to the band leader before I made my rounds.

Without Jeff by my side most of the guests wanted to talk about Believe It or Not. People were reluctant to believe it was not rehearsed. Even my friends doubted me.

The band leader cut into everyone's thoughts.

"Quiet, please. The Maid of Honor would like to share some thoughts with you."

I hadn't given this any thought, but Jen obviously had. I didn't know what to expect.

"Ashley has grown so much as a person since I met her.

"When I first met her she was sure she was the most breathtakingly beautiful girl in the world. Today, she just knows she is the most breathtakingly beautiful girl in the world.

"When I first met her she just assumed everyone would do whatever she told them to. The only saving grace of her having that attitude was that she was right. But she has grown so much since those days. Now she fully understands that sometimes she has to explain before everyone will do whatever she tells them to.

"From the time Ashley arrived at college she was the unchallenged queen of campus social life. But even with all her experience and worldliness, Jeff was able to introduce her to the finer things in life.

"He introduced her to the exquisite cuisine of Bob's Big Boy. For those of you unfamiliar with Bob's Big Boy, the food is almost as good as it sounds.

"The very first time they met in college, Jeff shared a precious gift with Ashley. He borrowed a dollar from her so he could teach her double-entry accounting."

People had been laughing since she started, but this got quite a few laughs.

"You laugh. How many of you understand double-entry accounting as well as Ashley? Let's see the hands."

Only Jeff's hand went up.

"I thought so. Accounting was not the only thing they shared.

"Jeff took Ashley on the most romantic dates, like watching our college wrestling team, grunting and sweating out a victory over another obscure wrestling team.

"I kid about the wrestling team, but Jeff introduced her to high culture as well. They went to listen to classical music. He took her bowling.

"Now, you may wonder why I'm talking about all the things Jeff introduced Ashley to. I'll tell you why. She loved them, go figure. Before Jeff, Ashley would never have considered these things. But today her bowling average is still rising.

"Ashley has another amazing gift. Jeff's family talks about it quite often. It's absolutely uncanny. She has a preternatural ability to pick out a gift for you that you had no idea you were interested in. And the more you think about it, the more you realize you could hardly have done without it.

"She has also changed her view of gifts she has received. Giving or receiving, in the past, Ashley had a magical ability to calculate the appropriate monetary value of any gift. Tell her what anniversary, which birthday, and she could tell you what gift was appropriate.

"But, I've been privy to some gifts she has received and her two most precious possessions are letters she got from Jeff while she was in Europe for a month. Ashley refers to them as her 'Oh-my' letters. And it's not because she is overly sentimental. I don't know any girl who could receive a letter like that whose response would not be, 'Oh, my.'

"Ashley has developed a profound generosity. I see it in her relationship with Jeff's sister, Sandy. Sandy thinks Ashley can walk on water."

"She can," called Sandy from her table.

"Yes, she can.

"Someone meeting Ashley for the first time, knowing her background, looking at her, would be astonished to find her such a warm, caring person. I think Jeff would best be able to describe the Ashley experience with a song, if Jeff were capable of thinking of it, which he is not. So, I'm going to do it for him.

"Ashley, this could be from Jeff. It could be from me. It could be from Sandy, or Sunny, or Louis, or Hari or Sam. Baby, I'm amazed by you."

I started to tear up. Jeff had moved up behind me and encircled me in his arms.

He sang very softly in my ear, "Baby, I'm amazed by you."

The band leader spoke into the microphone again. "Please clear the floor for the newlyweds' first dance."

We didn't have a song picked out as our song, so I had told the band leader to play a big-band era fox trot.

I'm sure many in attendance thought Jeff and I had taken lessons. With the large dance floor practically empty, Jeff was able to take us around it easily.

We heard, "Would the father of the bride join her on the dance floor and the mother of the groom join him?"

My father looked like he relished the opportunity to join in. He looked as if this event were something he had been wishing for. He happened to be a pretty good dancer himself, so that embellished the look.

"Would the father of the groom please join the bride on the dance floor? And would the father of the bride please join the groom on the dance floor?"

Anyone with a liquid in their mouth would have spit it out if they had looked at Jeff's face at that announcement.

"I'm sorry, I meant the mother of the bride please join the groom on the dance floor."

Jeff looked at me and I gave him a proud smile. Fortunately, his father started to dance with me, because, I'll admit, this kind of practical joke is usually followed by tickling the perpetrator.

Everyone was invited to join us on the dance floor and eventually I danced with Jeff again. Mercifully, he did not tickle me. He leaned in and sang softly in my ear, "Baby, I'm amazed by you." I was afraid Jen had started something.

There was more dancing before we were asked to return to our seats because dinner was about to be served.

"And now, we'll have a few words from the Best Man."

Rich had a devilish look in his eyes.

"I've known Cousin Jeff all his life. I know many of you have a hard time thinking of him any other way than the way he is now. But I have to tell you he was completely different when I met him.

"He didn't have any words of wisdom. In fact, he didn't have any words at all. He just kind of babbled.

"He didn't dress as stylishly as you're used to seeing him these days. Well, he thinks it's stylish. Back then he just wore a plain, no-frills diaper.

"I know many of you think of him as an avid reader. Sorry, Jeff, but I have to tell the truth to these good people here. Jeff didn't even so much as pick up a book until he was six. Oh, sorry, six months.

"After that, whenever my family went to their house to visit, I would want to play and that meant either Cousin Sunny or Cousin Louis would wind up saying, 'Jeff, put the book down. We have company. You can read it later.'

"And you people may think of Jeff as a goody two shoes, but I've heard the stories. He was a very disobedient child. How many nights would he stay up way after his bedtime getting himself into trouble reading a book? I can't tell you how many times I would hear my parents talking about poor Cousins Sunny and Louis. How were they going to deal with their son with the behavioral problem?

"And it only got worse. I always heard Cousin Sunny talking about how she wanted Jeff to be a normal kid and go through school at the same pace as the other kids. But did he listen? Nooooo. All he ever wanted to do was learn more stuff and skip grades. What does a parent do with a willful child like that?

"Of course, they also had the usual trouble parents have with their sons, like worrying about the trouble they could get into dating all those girls. What was her name, Jeff, that date you had in high school?

"And of course that dating -- what exactly do you call it when there's only one date? -- can lead to lots of trouble in school. How many times did his parents get a call to come to the school to discuss his aberrant behavior? Lots of times.

"And he always had the same problem. He wouldn't accept what some teacher told him. He always had to correct, actually Jeff said he had to educate,  his teacher. And he had the flimsiest excuses like, 'That guy is dumb as a rock.' Or, 'He must have learned his American History from a comic book.'

"With this background you might have thought Jeff didn't know his way around women. You would be wrong. When he got to college he knew exactly how to successfully chase a woman. He turned around and walked away from Ashley three times. It was three, Jeff, wasn't it?

"Now, there is technique. You chase women by showing them your back and move it farther away from them until it is out of sight. It is possible Jeff learned this from his one date in high school, but I think it more likely that such a killer technique can only be learned by reading about it in a book. Jeff?

"Jeff learns everything from reading. I think the first book he ever read was How to Read a Book.

"You can see the success of his technique here tonight. Not only did he win the bride, I'm told she is the most breathtakingly beautiful girl in the world. We have her word on it.

"Okay, I'll admit," Rich raised his hands in an of-course gesture, "we've also looked at her.

"I could go on this way ad infinitum, but Jeff is the nerd; I'll leave that to him."

That was another drink-spitting moment.

"This is the most amazing couple I've ever met. They may be the most amazing couple anyone has ever met. I know that's said at many weddings, but I'm right."

He looked directly at me with a mischievous smile. "Ashley told me."

Rich raised his glass. "May Ashley and Jeff have a long, happy life together."

Rich walked to our table and we each got a hug.

As we were waiting to be served I saw my father walking toward the microphone. Jeff and I had been holding hands. I squeezed. I may have hurt him. Or maybe it was just his reaction to what my father was going to say. It was not the latter.

"Don't worry," Jeff reassured me, "if he were to say anything negative at this point he would only embarrass himself in front of his friends and associates. And word would get back to those who are attending the post-wedding event."

My father didn't wait to be introduced. He just seized the microphone.

"I want to take this opportunity to welcome you all here tonight. It is a distinct pleasure to host you tonight at the wedding of my daughter, Ashley. My whole family shares my pride and pleasure, as do the Goldbergs.

"Ashley is a remarkable young woman. I hope someday to be able to persuade her to use some of her talents on behalf of Fine Bank. Whether she does or not, I'm sure you will be hearing her name in the news. She can accomplish anything she sets her mind to.

"Jeff is a remarkable young man in his own right."

In his own right? Does that mean most of what sets him apart derives from his relationship with me?

"I'm sure most of you know Jeff finished college much quicker than most."

Quicker than most? He did in less than two years what typically takes eight or nine years.

In the middle of a message that sounded laudatory, my father was trying to downplay Jeff's accomplishments. I cast a worried glance at Jeff. He was grinning. Jeff had told my father he didn't need to refer to him with so much as a pronoun.

"He's a piece of work," Jeff whispered to me.

"He already has a job with a growing, young company. He gets to work at the university from which he just graduated."

Jeff was starting to jiggle trying to hold in his laughter.

"What more could a father ask for his daughter?"

It sounded like it might actually be a question he was going to answer in the following sentences.

"Ashley, we love you."

"Well, I'm not sick, so I guess I'm ready to eat," said Jeff.

My father had tried to aggravate Jeff. All he had done was amuse him.

As the evening progressed my father faded from our notice.

After dinner we made the rounds of the tables. Most of the well wishers seemed to be sincere, though I'll grant they had considerable experience at feigning sincerity.

Sandy came up to me and plastered herself against me.

"I'm so happy. I love you guys so much. Ashley, you're the greatest."

She controlled herself so the words didn't run together.

I got to dance with Rich and to tell him what a good job I thought he did.

"Believe It or Not? It's a good thing Jeff is a pretty bright guy. He's going to have his hands full," Rich said.

"As often as he possibly can, I hope."

We got to dance with and among our friends. Some of my friends got to find out what a good dancer Jeff was first hand.

It was just about time for dessert. One of the staff found us and brought us over to cut the cake.

"You just go ahead and make the first cut yourself, sweetie." I said.

As he started to slice I picked up another knife and moved around to his other side. I moved around him the way I had in his parents' kitchen, rubbing fully against him.

"I guess it's as tight a squeeze in this ballroom as it was in my parents' kitchen," he said. "I'm glad you remembered your culinary technique for this occasion."

He finished making a bite-sized slice and fed it to me. I know many people take this occasion to mush the cake in their new spouse's face. We had been playful enough. Jeff was telling me he loved me by the way he gently fed me my slice of cake. I did the same for him.

We wiped our hands on napkins and engaged in an embrace and a gentle kiss. There would be plenty of time for the other kind of kiss.

When we sat down at our table for dessert, a thin-stemmed glass was placed in front of Jeff. His eyes grew big. He leaned forward and sniffed it. He closed his eyes and rocked as if in prayer.

"Dark chocolate mousse? Nobody else got that."

"That's right," I said.

"There is going to come a time when I will have learned you well enough to stop being amazed, isn't there?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Thank you. You're terrific."

The single ladies were gathering for the opportunity to snatch the bouquet. I addressed them.

"I hope you ladies are ready. As you know, whoever catches this bouquet is guaranteed to be the next one married. You can take that to the bank."

"Would that be Fine Bank?" asked Jeff.

"Jeff! You're spoiling the decorum of this solemn event."

"Three cheers for the decorum of this solemn event," said Jeff. And he got them.

"All kidding aside, I want to give you ladies some advice. Use two hands to catch the bouquet. You're much less likely to drop it. But, if you can't reach it with two hands, don't let that stop you from making a one-handed effort. There are no points for style. You can rest assured of the accuracy of this information. I read it in a book."

That elicited groans.

Jeff looked at me and said, "Have at it, wench."

Had he been drinking?

I turned around and let it fly.

I peeked over my shoulder and saw Sandy cut in front of Jen to block a woman who had fought her way through the crowd. Jen scurried forward and caught it - with two hands.

A cheer went up, I suppose because somebody was getting married according to popular belief. I hoped it would be Jen.

Jeff came to me and kissed me.

A chant went up. "Garter. Garter. Garter." I sat demurely facing the crowd.

Jeff addressed the men.

"Gentlemen, I believe no instructions are necessary. Legend has it that the garter brings good luck to whoever catches it. Some say the man who catches it will be the next to marry. I imagine that is open to interpretation, since some men would consider that unlucky.

"However, I have researched the matter, and according to the best evidence I was able to find -"

"Stop," said Rich. "By the time you get done telling us about all your research we'll be too old to get married."

"I just..." That was all Jeff got out before he realized what he was doing and blushed. "I think I should just get on with it."

He knelt before me and ran his hands up my left leg - the wrong leg and he knew it. He was caressing my inner thigh when I realized what he was trying to do.

"Jeff! It's on the other leg."

"I was wondering what happened to it."

Nobody believed him, but it got a good laugh.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure."

He started up my right leg. He found the garter and kept going.

"Jeff," I implored.

"I just thought it would be easier to take down from above."

That established his bona fides as a smart ass to those who didn't already know him.

He removed it and tossed it high up in the air. Rich managed to snag it.

"So, Rich, does this give you any ideas?" asked Jeff.

"Jeff!" I scolded. I was saying that a lot.

"Yes, it does," said Rich.

He walked over to Jen and got down on one knee. Jen's eyes bulged with shock. The room went silent. He held up the garter.

"Want to trade? You can probably use this more than I can."

"Did you put him up to this?" She pointed at Jeff.

"To quote Tallulah Bankhead, 'I'm pure as the driven slush.'"

At around 10:30 I told Jeff I was ready to go.

"It's kind of early. Is there anything wrong?"

"No. I've had a wonderful wedding. Now we have a marriage to consummate."

"My memory may be fuzzy, but didn't we take care of that little detail in advance?"

"You can never consummate too often."

"So, did you get your fairytale wedding?" he asked.

"No. It was even better. I couldn't have imagined anything so wonderful."

When we arrived downstairs I was about to ask the doorman to have our limo brought to the door. He smiled and pointed outside where it was already idling.

As we got in I asked the driver how he knew we would leave early.

"Believe it or not ... I anticipated your departure."

"Believe it or not?" I asked with ample doubt.

"It's on YouTube," he answered.

I turned to Jeff. "Is this going to be our life?"

He shrugged. "It looks like it's going to be quite an adventure."


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The End
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Posted:  2010-09-19
Last Modified: 2011-09-16 / 10:41:57 pm
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