Chapter 11: A Super Bowl Party — Four and Out

Super Bowl Sunday, 1984, Chicago, Illinois

On Sunday morning, I woke up early and carefully got out of bed, put on my exercise clothes, and went up to the attic. I did my exercises and practiced my kata, then went back to my room. Jackie stirred when I came in and smiled at me when I went to the shower. I expected her to join me, but she didn't. After I turned off the water, she came in to shower herself. When she finished, she dressed, and we went down to the kitchen to make breakfast.

We were sitting eating our waffles and bacon when Cindi came into the kitchen walking gingerly, with Jorge right behind sporting a dazed look. Cindi winked at me as Jorge sat at the table with Jackie and me while she made bacon, eggs, and toast for the two of them. Jorge accepted a cup of coffee from Cindi and sipped at it.

I wasn't sure what, if anything, to say to Jorge, so I just continued eating my breakfast after a brief 'good morning'. Jorge nodded, mumbling a 'good morning' back at us, avoiding looking at us. Jackie and I exchanged very discreet smiles. If the subject came up, I was sure Cindi would start it.

Elyse came into the kitchen with the Sunday paper that she'd retrieved from the front porch. She handed it to me and I took the front section and the comics, as I usually did, and then others took sections to read. Elyse started making breakfast for herself and Eduardo, who walked in a moment later.

"What's the deal with the newspapers shoved into the cowboy boots by the door?" Elyse wondered.

"Well, it IS cold walking outside, and it helps insulate my feet," Jorge answered.

The girls kind of stared at him, incredulous, not understanding. I noticed Jorge blushed when he saw the girls staring at him.

"Really? COWBOY boots in this weather?" Jackie laughed. "That's crazy!"

Jorge's face went from red to purple. I was about to speak when Cindi spoke sternly.

"Jackie!" she admonished.

Jackie's face fell, realizing what she'd done, "I'm sorry, it just came out!"

Jorge shrugged, "It's nothing. I guess cowboy boots aren't for the cold weather. I'll have to see about getting something appropriate that'll pass muster."

" ... here," I heard him mutter under his breath. I looked around quickly, and it appeared only I had heard that last word, which was spoken under his breath.

"Jorge," I said gently, "Chicago can get damned cold. I think you'll need to adjust your wardrobe."

He nodded. I'd make sure Cindi talked to him about it, or, if she thought it better, I'd talk to him. Eduardo walked over with a smile and put his hand on Jorge's shoulder and spoke to him.

"«¡Enhorabuena, galán!»"

Jorge smiled, and I smirked. I'd taken enough Spanish to get the drift of Eduardo's congratulations for the previous night's activities. Or what Eduardo and I obviously assumed were the previous night's activities. Maybe it made sense to have Eduardo fill him in, because Eduardo had been through several Chicago Winters and seemed to be better prepared. After breakfast, I pulled Eduardo aside and suggested he speak to Jorge about properly dressing for Winter in Chicago and that if Jorge needed some help shopping, I'd be happy to lend a hand.

I went back into the kitchen, made a pot of tea and took it into my study so I could make my phone calls. I sat down at my desk and lifted the handset, then put it back down. Before I dialed the Stockholm number that I'd memorized years ago, I had to think further about what Anala had said. Was it indeed just a fantasy? Had I lied to myself for six years? And if so, what should I do about it?

I thought back now, trying to be purely analytical, to eighth grade. I hadn't started my journal until February of my Freshman year, nearly a year after I'd first been with Jennie McGrath and Birgit. But Birgit was on nearly every page once I did start writing. I took out my keys and unlocked the cabinet where I kept my old, hand-written journal. I pulled out the loose-leaf binder marked '78–79' and started reading.

The first thing I noticed was that the very first entry, after a rambling introductory paragraph that simply made almost no sense to the nearly twenty-one-year-old me, was about Becky. Or rather, about my internal conflict about Jennifer and Becky. Had nothing changed in nearly five years? I'd have to come back to that, because my goal at the moment was to think about Birgit and Karin.

I skipped around quite a bit, reading passages I had written about Birgit and trying to find proof one way or the other. Then I came to the pages labeled June 10, 1978. I knew they were written days later, but they captured the utter despair I'd felt at Birgit's death. I saw the tear-stained pages and knew that I could never, ever, simply transcribe the words into my computer and dispose of the pages. They meant too much to me. I read every line and tears began streaming down my face as I read them. Tears, unshed for the past couple of years, now flowed freely.

I paged forward, reading the things I'd written about Birgit, then came to the end of that binder. I pulled out the one labeled '79–80', larger than the others, as it contained 'A4' paper instead of 'letter', and which contained everything I'd written while I was in Sweden. I read the pages about my first meeting with Karin; about my visit to Birgit's grave and Karin's attempts to comfort me. I smiled when I read my first memories of Pia, the girl who became my lover for the year in Sweden.

I skipped more than a dozen pages that dealt with Becky, her pregnancy, and the abortion, then read a bit here and there, but mostly I skipped ahead to the pages for December of '79, when I visited Stockholm. I read my first recollections of that strangest of nights in Stockholm when I'd had Karin in every way possible, imagining that she was her sister. I still felt a twinge of guilt and wondered if that feeling was responsible for the way I was thinking about Karin. Was it possible that I felt I owed her something in exchange for her virginity, no matter how willingly given?

I paged forward again, reading bits and pieces, smiling as I read about my first meeting with Katt, and later my meeting with Tina Hoff, who at age twelve had been ready to make love with me — something I hadn't known until two years later, despite the scores of letters that we'd exchanged. I read my thoughts on Karin as I tried to sort out my feelings, and then about my last visit to her in June.

I noticed, kind of distractedly, that my prose had improved over the course of two years. I stopped reading at that point and closed the journal binders and put them away, locking the cabinet door. I'd come to a conclusion, and it was completely clear in my mind what had happened. The journals told the story. It was a matter of figuring out what to do next. There really was only one solution. I dialed the Stockholm number and waited for someone to answer. Karin was that someone on the sixth ring, which was odd, given the size of the apartment.

"Sorry Steve," she giggled. "I'm home alone and I was in the bathroom!"

"Impeccable timing on my part," I chuckled, but then I changed to a serious tone, "We need to talk."

"This can't be good," she said softly.

"I spent a lot of time thinking, and I believe I've figured things out. I'm confessing that I've treated you badly and terribly misled you. I had some stupid fantasy about Birgit and me and I projected it onto you, and tried to forge a relationship from that silly, childish idea of romance. I'm sorry."

I heard soft sobs coming from the other end of the phone.

"So this is how it ends?" she sobbed.

"I have no idea if this is the end or not," I replied. "I'm confused as hell. I've had long talks with my friend Anala and I spent an hour reading my journal before I called you. I'm just telling you what I figured out. It's way more complicated than we thought it was when we talked about me seeing you as Birgit. All I can say is that I'm not committing to anyone until after I graduate. The next step is really up to you."

"You just told me that our entire relationship is basically a fantasy. How can it be up to me when you don't think there's anything for us?"

"That's not what I said!" I protested gently. "I didn't say anything about what happens next, just about what happened in the past."

"But if the entire foundation of our relationship was silly, as you called it, what can we ever have?"

"An adult relationship, borne out of shared experiences. It more or less means assessing who we are and figuring out if we might belong together, rather than assuming we do."

"So, what do you want to do? Do you want me to come to visit?"

"Very much so, but it's going to be a challenging week, involving a lot of talking. I did get the days off work, so except for class, I'll be here to be with you. The real question is whether or not you're willing to accept the situation as it is, and accept me as I am right now. And that's not the same person who fell in love with your sister. It's not even the same person who visited you in Stockholm when I lived there; or even the same person who saw you last Summer. And also accept that I'm not going to commit to anyone."

Karin sighed deeply, then was silent for a bit. I waited for her to speak.

"That's probably the most adult thing I've ever heard you say," she said. "Maybe I was living in a fantasy world, but I think that's over and done with now. I don't know this new you well enough to answer the question. I could cancel my trip and we could wait until you come to Sweden, or I could come and see you. I'm not sure what the best answer is, really."

"Could you still get a refund on your ticket? It's less than three weeks away."

"No, I don't think so. So I guess that kind of makes the decision for me. If you'll still have me, I'll come."

"Yes," I said.

"Write me a letter and tell me everything you've kept from me. I don't mean that in a nasty way, or that you're hiding things, but it sounds like a lot has happened."

"I'll write you and send the letter in a couple of days, so you have it before you leave Sweden."

We spoke for another minute or so, then said 'goodbye'. For the first time that I could remember, we didn't exchange our usual claim of love. Rather than be saddened by it, I was happy that we were behaving honestly now. If anything was going to come of this, that was the basis for it. I knew I had stark choices to make in eighteen months, though I supposed I could extend that self-imposed deadline if I needed to.

I made brief calls to Sofia and Tina, but both of those were of a very different character. I'd never promised either of them anything, and despite both of them having designs on me, they both always seemed grounded in reality. Tina was dating casually, and Sofia was coming to Chicago for her undergrad studies and medical school. If they could figure out how to move the needle in their own favor, they would, but they both knew that was going to be difficult.

I checked the clock and decided it was too early to place my other calls. I wasn't quite ready to start my long letter to Karin, so I went to hang out with Kurt, Kathy, Eduardo, and Elyse in the Indian room. Eduardo let me know that he'd had a conversation with Jorge and that they were going to get his clothing situation sorted out. I nodded and thanked him for the help. About ten minutes later Cindi came in and asked for help setting up for the party. All five of us got up and went to help.

Cindi had told everyone that the party started at 2:00pm, which meant that we'd have several hours to hang out before the game started. She asked Eduardo, Kurt, and me to arrange enough places to sit in the great room. I was really glad that I had a large 32" TV that was connected to my stereo, given how many people would be in the room. We moved some chairs from the sunroom, and most of the pillows from the Indian room, into the great room and set everything up in a semi-circle around the TV. When we finished, we went to the kitchen and Cindi gave us each tasks for preparing food. We worked until lunch time and then, after I ate a sandwich, I excused myself and went to my study to make my phone calls.

My first call was to Kara. She told me that she was doing OK, that her sessions with Doctor Mercer were helping, and that she'd told her mom everything.

"Everything? Including about Joyce?" I asked.

"To a point. I didn't go into details, just that I'd kissed her inappropriately. I wanted to see how mom reacted and she recoiled so badly from that, and was so offended that I couldn't say more. But in her reaction, she saw how it would have caused me to experience revulsion and horror at what I'd done."

"And she blames me for this?"

"No. I didn't tell her about the first time, when the three of us were together. Doctor Mercer knows, but not my mom. I just told her about the time that really messed me up. I don't know what to think about that first time with you and her, but I do know what to think about being with just her. I still get a little sick to my stomach when I think about it."

"I'm sorry, Kara," I said. "I didn't protect you as I should have."

"No, you didn't. But, I also made my own choice. A very bad one, as it turns out. Just as you did with Becky. We both have to live with the consequences of our mistakes."

"It sounds to me like you and Doctor Mercer are making some progress," I said.

Kara sighed, "Yes. It's hard to look deep into myself and see things that I really don't like. And to try to understand why I am the way I am. I guess you've done that for years."

"I have. It's one of the reasons I've kept the journal all these years."

"I started one. Doctor Mercer asked me to do that after Thanksgiving when you broke me out of that trance I was in. I'd so convinced myself that I was an evil person who I didn't want to live, but I couldn't kill myself, so I just kind of went through the motions."

"You thought about killing yourself?" I gasped, unable to restrain my emotions.

"Yes. On my birthday. When I got Steve Bear. Up until that point, I was so angry with you and blamed you for everything. When you sent me that gift and the letter, something inside me just snapped. I wanted to die; I really did. I almost took my mom's bottle of sleeping pills. Almost. I was standing in front of her medicine cabinet, with Steve Bear, and thinking that I didn't want to live. But I couldn't bring myself to do it because it felt like you were there watching me.

"But there was a second time, and that time I actually had the bottle of pills in my hand. I filled a glass with water and then opened the bottle. I had Steve Bear with me that time as well, and I suddenly felt like you were there watching me. I couldn't do it. I put the bottle back in the medicine cabinet and went and curled up on my bed and cried. The next thing I knew, I saw you in the hospital. You know why that happened."

"Joyce," I said softly.

If I'd been upset with Joyce before, I was livid now. Kara had almost killed herself because of the call that Joyce had made. If that had happened, even Bethany wouldn't have been able to stop me from killing Joyce, no matter what the consequences. I was going to make damned sure that Joyce knew that, and maybe, just maybe, she'd get off her damned high horse and talk with me, honestly. I didn't really want to talk to her, but Anala was insistent that I do so and so far she hadn't steered me wrong. I took a couple of deep breaths and let them out slowly.