Chapter 3: Double Limbo

At dinner, Mr. Trainor sat at the head of the table, and she sat at the foot. He seemed to be indicating that she was the hostess, which wasn’t really true. Her parents were at either side of him, with Mom, Pete, and Molly filling up one side of the table, and Dad, April, and Andy filling up the other. Every leaf was in the table, which gave each of them reasonable room. Molly was dressed demurely enough. The ham was delicious as she’d remembered it, and there was a bottle of wine on the table.

She could see Pete’s eyes boggle at that. Pete had started sneaking beers at a too-young age, and he’d been drinking with Dad’s consent before she’d left home. He probably hadn’t had booze at a formal dinner before. Well, at the reception, certainly, but not at somebody’s house. Andy poured April one, not very full, glass. Knowing what would happen if she tried for another, she didn’t. Andy nursed his glass though the meal. Her parents enjoyed the particular wine. Pete took more than the two of them did but seemed to treat it as booze.

Molly, who knew about good wine even if her experience had been limited, was seeing that Pete didn’t. Marilyn could see her opinion of Pete sink through the evening.

“Marilyn tells me, Andy, that you aced all your courses again this last quarter,” Dad said. That was definitely Andy’s best point that could be shared in public. Dad must have decided to put the best face on what he’d failed to stop.

“Yes. But this quarter was all courses in my major except partial differential equations. I needed those grades.”

“Is it easier to get an A in Electrical Engineering?” Pete asked.

“It’s easier for Andy,” she said. “The major is considered one of the more difficult ones at the university. PDE is the top undergraduate course in math. Our chapter maintains guides on what courses are easiest to pass. Andy has only taken one of those, drawing.”

“You didn’t tell me that was on the list of hammock courses,” Andy said.

“Well, you didn’t ask me. I suggested that you take chorus, but you had your reasons.”

“Yeah,” Andy said. “Engineers have to draw, even though they do it differently. I thought free-hand drawing might give me an edge. Who knows whether it did.”

“You seem,” Mom said, “to see everything as means to an end.”

“Well, ma’am, everything can’t be a means. You have to have ends. But, yes, I see course work as a means to an end. If you want to learn something because you’re curious about it, then you can read a book. If you’re going to need to know all -- a limited, but real, all -- about it, then you take a course. Then your teacher tests you. He’s supposed to be able to discern whether you know it or not. And, of course, if you’re going to sell your ability in the field, the buyer wants to see that certification of your knowledge from the teacher. I can’t see taking a course for fun.”

“Well,” she pointed out, “you enjoyed swimming. You might have enjoyed chorus, too.”

“That’s a point. Some things aren’t learned well from books. You need your muscles as well as your mind. I couldn’t have learned driving from a book -- or dancing.”

“Book learning isn’t everything,” said Pete.

“No, it isn’t.” Andy was being polite -- agreeing as if Pete’s statement was different from something he had said.

“I’m not going to college for book learning.”

“Then,” Dad pointed out, “I’ll be wasting a hell of a lot of money for tuition.” Dad was no more pleased with Pete than Marilyn was, same reaction for different reasons.

“Do you have a major in mind?” Andy asked. Pete had just said that he didn’t plan on studying, but Andy had a hard time conceiving of going to college without studying something.

“I’m going to college to meet girls. You did.”

“To be pedantic, I met Marilyn before college. I met plenty of girls at college, notably Marilyn’s sorority sisters. Those meetings, however, were, in your mother’s distinction, means rather than ends.”

“Well, I’m not going to waste my time in classrooms and libraries the way you did.”

“Since the grounds available to you for judging whether I wasted my classroom time were my grades, I think your judgment needs reconsideration.” She couldn’t tell whether Andy had missed Pete’s meaning, or he was deliberately misconstruing it. By this time, Andy was adopting his ‘I’m a sane man arguing with an idiot’ tone. Which was an accurate portrayal of the situation.

“And, Molly, you’re going to college, too.” Mom moved to defuse the awkward situation. The only awkwardness was that her son was getting drunk on a good sauterne, but Mom could never see the value of disagreement.

“Yes, ma’am. Fresno State. I’ll major in business, maybe accounting.” Maybe Molly wanted to meet boys as much as Pete wanted to meet girls, but she was too smart to set that as her only goal. She’d meet plenty of boys in accounting class, anyway. Feminists were breaking down barriers, but maybe fewer than boy-crazed coeds were.

“You don’t want to waste all your time in classes, like your brother did,” Pete said.

“Well, I prefer to be compared to Marilyn. She’s not done with college, but by the time she leaves, she’ll have a profession and a husband -- a husband who has his own profession. Really, if you’re not preparing for a profession as well as meeting girls, then you’d better look for a girl who is willing to support you.” Molly’s tone didn’t suggest that there would be a great many who would be willing to do so.

“No way! I’m going to be the breadwinner in my family.”

“Then, Pete,” Dad said, “you’re in the horns of a dilemma. There are jobs which will support a wife and family, if not at the level you’re used to being supported, without a college degree. You, however, are not prepared for any of them. A gas-station attendant or waiter won’t put as much money in your wallet as you’re used to spending, much less add anything to your attractiveness to women who are looking to be supported. Either you get an education from your college time, or you won’t have any attraction for those women you hope to attract.”

Pete poured another glass of wine. He wasn’t going to answer. The conversation moved on without really leaving the subject.

“Y’know,” Andy said, “Every household in our society produces and consumes. We don’t, except for a few farmers back in the hills, produce much of what we consume. We produce one thing and mostly consume other things.”

“That’s not quite true,” his dad said, “you produce a great deal of what you consume. Marilyn cooked breakfast this morning; she’ll cook almost all your meals for the next nine months. The conversation tonight is something the people here both produced and consumed. I, at least, enjoyed most of it. When it doesn’t enter into commerce, the economists ignore it -- rightly so, usually -- but it does exist.”

“Very well, Dad. But a household must consume a great deal -- of vital necessities -- that it cannot produce. The general run of man enjoys consumption and endures producing for the pleasure of consuming. Marilyn and I see our future as being among the privileged class that enjoys producing what we will produce, as well. That makes us among the fortunate. It’s not so much that we’ll be a two-income family. It’s that we’ll be a four-enjoyment family, or -- at least -- three. I’ll enjoy engineering, Marilyn will enjoy teaching, and then we’ll bring our paychecks home to enjoy what they buy.”

“Well,” Dad said, “if you make it, more power to you. I can’t quite see enjoying engineering, myself -- or, really, teaching.”

“Well, Dad,” she said, “teaching day to day may be a grind, but you get a good deal of satisfaction when your students learn.”

“That’s an interesting distinction,” Mr. Trainor said, “some things are pleasant to do, and other things are pleasant to have done. They give satisfaction. Somehow, I can’t think of many things which are both.”

That night, going to sleep, she thought of Mr. Trainor’s distinction. He’d missed one sort of pleasure. After the pleasure brought by Andy’s kisses and strokes, the satisfaction of being filled by the man she loved, and the short but intense pleasure of climax, there was the comfort of being held in the spoon. Pleasure, satisfaction, and comfort. She enjoyed all three, and Andy brought her all three. She should reciprocate, should bring him all three.

Thursday morning, she cooked pancakes. Andy and his dad both enjoyed them.

“I keep saying that you don’t have to do this, but I’m glad you do.”

“Well, Mr. Trainor, remember your distinction last night. You get pleasure from eating them; I get satisfaction from cooking them. And, too, I could hardly eat them if I didn’t serve you as well.”

“You’re being ambiguous.” She didn’t know what he was talking about. Maybe he could tell that because he continued, “There are three people here, including yourself. If you’re not talking to yourself, you’re talking to ‘Mr. Trainor.’ Now, ‘Jim’ would be specific.”

“Somehow, I don’t think of Andy as being ‘Mr. Trainor.’ He’s called me ‘Mrs. Trainor’ occasionally.”

“A much greater accomplishment of the last quarter than his GPA. Why shouldn’t he glory in it?”

“But I’m Mrs. Trainor because I’m his wife. He was Mr. Trainor before the marriage. I think of him as Andy. He knows to whom I’m talking when I use your name.”

She cooked for Molly and April, as well. The bribe got them out of bed at a reasonable time. After breakfast, she suggested a walk with April. Walking outside the house was the Trainor method of getting a private conversation. This made her all the more nervous about her activities with Andy being overheard at night.

“Well, what has your life been like this year?” She asked April when they were on their way. “I’ve been so busy with my own. Your sister has graduated, which was expected. I don’t know what you’ve been doing.” April handed her a photo. He looked like a very ordinary high-schooler.

“That’s Tony.”

“Presumably meaning that he’s significant in your life. Is he in your grade?”

“He’s a year ahead. He’ll be a junior this year.” Which was good and bad. That meant that April had two more years of his company at most. It also meant that he’d be ahead of her and pressing her for the intimacies he believed were the right of boys his age. But she kept those worries to herself.

“How long have you known him?”

“Just this last year. He wasn’t in my middle school.”

“And how long have you been dating him?”

“What makes you think...”

“C’mon April. I asked what’s been up in your life this year. You showed me this picture. For that matter, you brought it downstairs to show me. I’m not prying, or if I am, you invite it. What is your relationship with Tony? How much do you want to tell me?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“That’s the rule of this talk. We not only can’t tell what the other one answers, we can’t even tell about our questions.” Of course, she’d break her word, and break April’s trust in her, if it was absolutely necessary. If April was about to elope, Marilyn’s lips would get unsealed damn fast.

“Well, it’s not quite dates.”

“Who knows about him, anyway? Your mom? Your dad? Your sister?” Molly would have been some protection in the past year. A hundred miles away, she wouldn’t be much help in the future.

“Well, they know something. Not Dad.”

“So they know he’s your friend, but not how significant a friend. I don’t know that, either.”

“They don’t understand.”

“If you aren’t specific, they never will.”

“Well, you found your love. Why can’t I have found mine?”

“What kind of friend is he anyway? You don’t precisely date. What are the imprecise dates?”

“We talk.”

“That’s good.” It was damn dangerous, but they had to talk. “You say that he might be the love of your life. Is the feeling mutual?”

“There’s no ‘might’ about it. He’s the man I’ll love forever.”

“Well, you didn’t say it like that before. Let me tell you a story about Marilyn. Sorry to talk about myself when this was supposed to be about you, but you don’t sound quite ready to talk about April.

“Anyway, most of my 11th grade year and all of my 12th grade year I was going with this guy. During the latter part of it, we were going steady. Before we got to that stage formally, we were really only dating each other. When, in my senior year, a perfectly nice guy asked me for a date, I turned him down because I had found my steady. The summer after I graduated, I was a little older than Molly is now and in precisely the same educational situation, we got more serious. We were going off together away from other people. Well, he wanted sex. I wasn’t ready yet. He tried to make me, and we broke up.

“Even that wasn’t the first time that I’d been in love. What I’m saying to you is that this guy, Tony, is the boy you love. He might be the last boy you love. Realistically, he might not.”

“You only love once.”

“Bullshit! When you fall in love, you tell yourself that the previous love wasn’t real. When you fall in love at your age, your elders tell you that it’s ‘puppy love,’ and not real. Those are all lies. Now, some of what is called love in high school isn’t love. But what people call puppy love isn’t what I mean.

“You desperately need a date. If you don’t have a date, you’re a social zero and your friends -- some ‘friends’ -- will think you’re a sexual zero. You get a date. The guy tells you he loves you because he knows you won’t get into the back seat unless he does. You tell him you love him because only an utter slut would get in the back seat with a boy if she didn’t love him. But, in fact, neither one of you is in love. You’re, at best, in love with being in love.”

“This isn’t like that.”

“I’m not saying it is. I’m saying that there is real love at your age. I felt real love not all that much older than you are. I’m also saying that the one we love can change. You’re growing -- growing emotionally even more than you’re changing physically. He’s growing. If his growth is different from yours, and boys grow emotionally way differently from how girls grow, the growth is as extreme. And I’ve talked about males and females; the truth is that different males change differently and so do different females. The track of my life is different from the track of Molly’s life is different from the track of your life.”

“You don’t think that Tony and I have a future.”

“I didn’t say that. I said that there is a possibility that Tony and you will grow apart. There is also the possibility that you two will grow together. It’s happened. But, since both possibilities exist, the wise woman will live in a way that make both possibilities bearable.”

“Well, I couldn’t bear it if something happened to separate us.”

“Depends on what. If Tony grows to want somebody else or a totally different kind of woman than the one you’re growing into and you remain in love with him, it will hurt like hell. If, on the other hand, he grows into the sort of man you can’t stand, or even can’t respect, it will hurt you much less. In that case, some day you will look back and say. ‘That guy! I couldn’t love him now. I thought I loved him when I was in 9th grade, but I was wrong.’ Really, though, you’ll be wronging your present self if you do. The future you will be patronizing the present you the same way that the adults who talk of puppy love are patronizing you now -- or would be patronizing you if you told them.”

“So, when do you know, know for sure?”

“You don’t. When you both stop changing, then you should be able to be sure, but you never stop changing. Maybe on your death bed or something. But, short of that, you don’t know. You just make a leap into the dark. Still, the later you make that leap, the better your odds.”

“Dad thought that you should have waited another year.”

“Yeah, everybody did. Everybody except the two of us. The problem was that we couldn’t wait more than another year. If we did, we’d start our lives in different places, probably different states. So the question was what would we learn by waiting a year? It didn’t look like we would learn much.”

“You say you’ve been in love before. I don’t think Andy has.”

“Yeah. And that scares me shitless. Look, as I told you, when I was in love with Colin, I turned down any chance for love to develop between Andy and me. I know myself; I’m not going to allow anyone else to creep into position to be my love in competition with my love for Andy. Andy is honest; he keeps his promises. And he’s promised to stick to me for life. On the other hand, I don’t think he would have let any promise keep him from pursuing me. So my love for Andy grew, and I won’t allow any competitive seeds any space to grow. That’s my wedding vow. I get the impression that your brother was hit by a thunderbolt. I haven’t the foggiest notion as to how to shelter him from another thunderbolt.

“Look, this is all private. Just because I worry about something like that happening sometime in the future doesn’t mean your brother is guilty, or 10% guilty, or something, of looking outside his marriage vows.”

“Sure. I don’t think he will, anyway.”

“Anyway, enough about me. What will you do? And I can’t wait to hear about these almost dates.” Well, April thought, they were more secret than almost. When they went to a movie, they entered separately and sat together. The two met and talked. Tony had a family as troubled as April’s own. His father had remarried and hardly saw his kid. His mother hadn’t remarried, but she’d had several live-in boyfriends. Marilyn would call them affairs.

Marilyn got the idea that April was in little danger of getting into Tony’s back seat anytime soon. He didn’t have a car; his mother had two jobs which made her car unavailable for Tony. They kissed, but they talked more. April made it sound as though kissing was as far as they’d gone.

She enjoyed the girls’ visit, even though it put a crimp in her love making with Andy. They might not listen at doors, but they were too close for Marilyn to be sure of privacy. She lay in the spoon position with a pillow close to her mouth and Andy’s hand between her legs. When he came in her, that position kept their motions from shaking the bed too much.

Sunday, they saw the girls off on their flight. Everyone left in the house took a siesta afterwards. She and Andy cuddled. Andy considered ‘every night in my arms’ a minimum. He was eager to have her in his arms at other times, too.

Jim Trainor took them out for dinner that night. He sprang on them that Mrs. Bryant would be coming in only in the mornings for the rest of the summer.

“Y’know, I never give her a vacation.” This was so transparently a way to give her and Andy some time for sex with no other ears in the house that she had to restrain herself from thanking him. She couldn’t say anything without bringing up the unmentionable.

Monday, she stretched her breakfast repertoire to an omelet. She started a load of dishes before she and Andy went out to sun in the back yard. Andy was happier about her bikini when no other males could see it. Applying the sunscreen to each other was still sex play as much as it had been before. When they lay down on the towels, they kept their voices low enough that Mrs. Bryant wouldn’t overhear them.

“You’ve made a real conquest of the old man,” Andy said.

“God, I’m so grateful to him. This giving us some time alone is only the latest.”

“You’d think he wants this marriage to succeed. Well, you scored a gazillion points with him when you made The Moppet a bridesmaid.”

“April was an excellent bridesmaid and didn’t look anything like a moppet. Your little sister is growing up.”

“Happens to the best of them. At least she hasn’t got as nasty as Molly got at that age. You might have something to do with that, too.”

“Love me, love my dog -- er -- groom.”

“I’m your dog. Pet me and I’ll roll over for you. Feed me and I’ll lick your lips.”

“Which lips being carefully unspecified.”

“Well, we dogs have problems getting up high.” The teasing continued, but they talked seriously, too. He’d bought two books for future courses. In her absence during June, he’d nearly got through one of them. She was worried that she couldn’t cook enough cheap meals to last them for 9 months.

“Everything you cook is delicious.”

“You won’t think so after the 20th repetition.” Although he might. After all, before she’d tried to civilize him, he’d opened a can for lunch and finished it for dinner without any heating. But she would damn-well get tired of the same ten dishes. She worried about that, and the hand he held out to her wasn’t enough comfort. They lay side by side soaking up the sun in silence.

When Mrs. Bryant called them in for lunch, they brought the beach towels with them. They draped them over the chairs to protect them from the sunscreen.

“Now, Andy,” Mrs. Bryant said, “I just made your bed with new-bought sheets. That sunscreen would be awfully hard to get out of those sheets.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll take a shower.” If Mrs. Bryant noticed the singular for shower, she didn’t show it. Well, after she went home, they would shower together. She and Andy weren’t especially noisy lovers. Even in the back seat of a sealed car parked a mile from anyone else, he’d whispered his passionate love to her. Even so, the past week had worn on their nerves. They’d been constantly conscious of three pairs of ears which might overhear anything.

Now, they were going to have the entire house to themselves. After Mrs. Bryant left, they went upstairs in their swimsuits. Andy turned off the air conditioner while she stripped off the bedspread and top sheet from the bed that Mrs. Bryant had carefully made.