Chapter 7

It turned out that Mary Jane Jones (I still chuckled every time I uttered that name) was more than pleased to invite me to dinner. I was to arrive at seven p.m. for dinner at eight. Franklin was to entertain me with old war stories while she and Juniper prepared our meal.

When I arrived, Juniper greeted me at the door all cheerful and friendly. I received a little hug and a kiss on the cheek, after which she led me into a very large room where Franklin was watching Jeopardy! on a big-screen television.

Alex Trebek had never looked better -- or bigger.

Body language from Franklin gave me to know that he didn't really want to talk during the program, so I simply accepted a cold brew from Juniper, settled next to Franklin on the couch, and watched the show.

Franklin hollered out almost all the answers -- putting them into the form of questions as the format required, and I found myself somewhat impressed by the depth and scope of his knowledge. Lots of "baseball men" I had met were undeniably intelligent, but many were narrow in the focus of their interests -- likely the victims of early overemphasis on sports to the exclusion of other pursuits.

Franklin Jones didn't answer all the questions. He didn't even get all the ones he answered right, but he was smart enough to impress me, at least.

Maybe I shouldn't have dropped out of school without getting that degree.

When the Jeopardy! closing theme music came on, Franklin turned off the television and acknowledged my presence. "Sorry about that," he said. "I dearly love that show. Always have. I record it every night, and watch all the ones I've missed whenever I get a chance -- sometimes three or four in a row. This one was live, though. Well, probably not live, but I mean, we were seeing it at the scheduled time."

I was trying to think of something apt to say in response to all this information, but Franklin didn't seem to expect me to answer. "Mare-Jay wants you to talk to her at some point ... Not tonight, though," he said.

Had I heard right? Had he called her "Mare-Jay"?

"It's that damned name," Franklin said, probably reading my thoughts. "I just can't keep on saying it. 'Mary Jane Jones.' Jeez! I mean, why couldn't the woman have been named Nancy or Edna or some damned thing? Eunice, even? ... So I got to where I'll call her "Em-Jay" or "Mare-Jay" just to give it a little -- I don't know -- character, you know? 'Mary Jane Jones' just sounds so..."

He trailed off. I didn't tell him his wife's married name gave me the giggles, too. No use piling on.

"It's partly your own fault," I told him. "It's the last name that's the real clincher. I forget what Juniper told me was your wife's maiden name, or her name after her first marriage, but I remember that they sounded more -- serious -- than 'Jones' does."

"It's true," Franklin said.

That seemed to be the end of the topic.

"Anyway, call Em-Jay tomorrow, before you need to go to the park," he said. "I probably won't be here, but she wants you to come by and talk to her while Juni's still at work."

I agreed to make the call.

"Oh, and if you and Juni want to go out somewhere tonight after dinner, that'll be fine with us," Franklin said.

I couldn't be certain, but I think he was telling me that if I wanted to take Juniper back to my apartment and jump her bones, he would raise no objection.

"Maybe we'll want to, y'know, talk privately," I told him. "But we probably won't leave the house -- except to take a walk around the block or something."

"Nice night for it."

Back in high school and in college, when my baseball skills were beginning to suggest to some people that I might make the big bucks someday, it wasn't unusual for girls I dated to have parents who fussed over me.

For middle-class, middle-American parents, I guess I might have been viewed as a Good Prospect. If I were to fall in love with their daughter and marry her, it might not be quite as nice as her hooking up with a doctor, but it could be the next best thing.

After all, in those times, I had been a young man about whom much was expected.

So I had experienced social situations where members of the older generation did some fawning over me. Treated me perhaps a little better than they would some other Lothario who'd shown a passing interest in their daughter.

I was feeling some hints of that with the Jones family that evening. They were baseball people themselves, so they were hardly overawed by my status as a big-earner athlete. If anybody knew about my limitations as a jock, Franklin Jones did.

No, it wasn't economics that was making me the honored guest of the evening. It was my part in Juniper's recent behavioral sea change. My take on it was, her folks had probably just about given up on her, and now I had come along and had them back to hoping their daughter was going to "straighten out."

It was the hope that springs eternal, within a parent's breast.

I recognized the attitude, and it made me feel a certain extra weight of responsibility. Not to "reform" Juniper. If there was going to be any permanent change in Juniper Jones, it was going to have to be Juniper herself who would effect it.

But having set my hand to the task of helping, I knew I had to try hard not to make a hash of the attempt. I owed that much to her mother and to Franklin.

So Juniper and I helped clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher, and soon after dinner, we took that little walk around the neighborhood.

It was a nice neighborhood, and a great night to be outdoors, but neither of us was paying much attention to the environment. This was perhaps going to be a pretty important little talk.

"Guess you heard about my newfound virginity and virtue," she said.

"Franklin says you've been staying home a lot."

"Don't think I did it to impress you," she said. "It wasn't that. It's just a ... a scientific experiment."

"How so?"

"You know. Testing myself. Finding out how much pressure I put myself under ... by doing the save-it-for-marriage routine."

I laughed. "I never suggested you save it for marriage," I told her. "I just wanted you to consider ... rationing it a little."

"Save it for Travis, huh?"

"Not necessarily forever," I said. "It's not like you're doomed to nothing but Travis Horton for the rest of your days. I just wanted us to give it a try -- to be a couple, and to be exclusive, at least for as long as both of us wanted to be together."

Juniper seemed a little impatient with my point of view. "I don't think you ... I don't think anybody really understands what I'm like, deep down," she said. "I'm like a guy, y'know? I mean, I really enjoy sex. I'm not one of those girls, has to be persuaded and begged and cajoled."

"You're like a guy that way, huh?"

"That's right. And if I was a guy and I'd slept around and gotten off with a lot of women, I'd be Mr. Superstud, and the other guys would just think I was cool."

"Like Toby Marr, you mean?"

"I know the other players don't like Toby. Hell, I don't like him myself. But if you and the other guys on the team happened to like other things about him, then you'd all think it was just great that ol' Toby was getting laid, left and right, by every babe in sight."

"Ahh, Juniper, you're right -- but you're wrong at the same time. So, okay, there's a big double standard going on out there. That's not new. Everybody knows about it. You want me to say it's unfair? Okay. It's unfair. But, listen, you're suggesting that every guy is out trying to fuck anything that moves. That's just not true.

"I mean, sure, I think it's true that most guys are kind of ... predatory. We're always on the lookout for it. But that's not really saying the same thing. I know lots of guys -- I'm one of them -- who try to mostly keep it in their pants, you know? Guys who try not to be ready to unzip every time an opportunity pops up."

"Well, you and your friends are in a minority, then," Juniper said.

"Maybe. But there are a lot of men who have their ... their libido under some control. Most of our married guys on the club, far as I've been able to see, are faithful to their wives. And most of the other guys who are dating somebody on a regular basis -- they're faithful, too. Guys who are on the prowl are the ones who are a distinct minority."

She was skeptical. "In my experience, if you let a man know you're available, he's only too willing to go along."

"We're all pigs, then," I said.

"I don't see it that way," Juniper said. "I never said that men were pigs, or even implied it. I just said if an attractive girl offers sex, most guys are going to take her up on the offer. Hell, you did! We barely knew each other, but when I reached out for your cock, there it was, already standing up and ready for action."

I laughed -- maybe a little bitterly. "I guess you had me convinced I was irresistible," I told her.

"I wasn't kidding around with you," she said. "I did think you were attractive. It was mutual, and the sex was good, too. You're the one who got all unstrung when you found out I wasn't some tight-assed virgin who wanted you and only you."