Chapter 44: Analysis, Again?

April 15, 1989, Chicago, Illinois

"Thanks for coming early for the Guys' Night and Girls' Night Out," I said to Bethany.

"You said it was important, so I talked to Nick and he was happy to come early. He and Jorge are playing Candy Land with Jesse and Matthew."

I chuckled, "Jesse is as hooked on that game as Kyle was when he was little. Kyle is almost ten now! Time really flies."

"It does. What can I do for you?" she asked.

"Jessica and I were talking yesterday about our relationship, and she commented on my ability to forgive just about anyone for anything."

Bethany nodded, "I would agree. Your mom is a special case, and I'm not sure that 'forgiveness' is a word you want to use in that case."

"Quite true. I surprised Jessica by telling her that there were two people I could never forgive for what they did."

"Josh Benton is one of them, obviously."

"Absolutely. I know you've come to terms with what happened, but did you forgive him?"

She shook her head, "No. That would have required, at a minimum, remorse on his part. The only remorse he ever showed was for getting caught. So no, I haven't, and won't ever, forgive him for what he did to me or other girls. I only wish I'd had the courage to tell my parents that night so that maybe it could have prevented the future assaults. But who knows? I'm curious, who's the other person you haven't forgiven?"

"Birgit," I said. "I just realized it yesterday when I was talking to Jessica."

"Birgit? Why?"

"For dying."

"Stephie died. So did Don Joseph. But you don't feel the need to forgive them, do you?"

"I suppose because the circumstances were different," I said.

"I will point out that despite you saying you haven't forgiven her, you named your first daughter after her."

I nodded, "I didn't say I hated her, Bethany. I don't know that I've ever hated anyone."

"Josh Benton."

"OK. One person. One person I thought deserved to die the most painful, merciless death that could be devised by man."

"So, how do you feel about her?"

"Angry, I guess. Almost eleven years later, I think I'm still angry with her."

"What about the guy she was with?"

"Jonas? I didn't know him. I suppose I'm angry with him for different reasons."

"Because he's responsible for her death?"

"That's just it. I don't know who's responsible. I don't know enough about what happened. Those critical hours between my last phone call with her and the storm are a complete blank. And there is nobody alive who can tell me what happened."

"I thought you had finally come to terms with all of this after your visit to Sweden when you and Karin finally sorted things out."

"Me too."

"So, it's different because she died suddenly, whereas Stephie and Don Joseph gave you time to prepare?"

"Partly. I also went to their funerals. But I think, in the end, it was because Birgit was mine. I had a future planned with her. Or at least what a fifteen-year-old imagines a future might be."

"You managed to forgive Becky for having the abortion."

I nodded, "I did. But look how long that took. And look at what it cost both of us in the long run. And what it almost cost me back in December. And Becky was around so that we could eventually work through it. Birgit wasn't. I substituted Karin and hurt her pretty badly in the process. Fortunately, things turned out OK for her in the end. No thanks to me."

"It wasn't all bad, Steve. And she put herself into that position, didn't she?"

"To a point, I guess. But I should have known better."

"Steve, Karin took advantage of your emotional state. She knew exactly what she was doing. It just didn't work out the way she wanted it to in the end. You aren't to blame for that. Well, not solely to blame."

"I understand that. But that doesn't excuse my behavior towards her that first night, or any time thereafter. But we're digressing."

"Are we? It's all kind of tied up in the same package. Why can't you forgive Birgit? Or rather, why haven't you?"

"Probably because I'm still angry with her after all these years. Angry at her for dying. Angry at her for ruining our future together. Angry at her for leaving me a basket case."

"And had you been with her, would you have Jesse, Matthew, and Birgit? In fact, would you have ANY of this? The house? This life? Your friends?"

"No, of course not."

"You hate the 'What if?' game, and yet you've been subconsciously playing it for eleven years! You keep asking yourself, in your heart of hearts, what would have happened if she'd lived. And you know what? You have NO idea! For all you know, you could have gone to Sweden, lived with her, and wound up like you and Jennifer. Or you and me. Or you and any number of other girls you thought were 'the one' at one time or another! Here's a thought for you. What if everything that happened with Karin was exactly what would have happened with Birgit? Given the experience both you and I had with our vision, maybe Karin WAS Birgit in some crazy way."

"Now you're just messing with me," I sighed.

"Am I? Or are YOU messing with you? That whole vision thing with Birgit has gnawed at me since you told me you'd experienced the same thing. You know I don't believe in any god or gods. And yet, something in this universe gave you and me the exact same vision. Including your aborted baby!"

"I know," I sighed. "Trust me, I know."

"Do you remember that she told me that there was something I had to do for you?"

"Sure."

"And we both thought that something was getting married and having kids together. What if THIS is what she needed me to do? To help you stop being angry with her. So that when you eventually see her, it will be as it should have been all along."

"But it can't be!"

"Why? Because you're married? Has that stopped you from developing close relationships with women? Explain Stephie! Heck, you have more than one wife! If that vision meant anything at all, I think it meant that she'd be devastated if you came there, wherever that was, and were angry with her."

"I don't even know what to say, Bethany. We're talking about an afterlife I'm not even sure exists!"

"One I'm SURE doesn't exist. And yet..."

"A contradiction which neither of us can explain," I observed. "We both don't believe it, despite what appears to be clear evidence to the contrary. But we don't even know if it IS evidence. Maybe that shared vision was because of our shared past? Who knows?"

"Assume for the moment that it's true, at least in some fashion. How would you feel when you see her, if you're harboring that anger?"

"Terrible," I said.

"Your own personal version of hell," Bethany said. "All the other girls you've loved and who love you, all your kids, and all your friends. And she's left standing outside. Your wives are there. Stephie is there. Kathy, Elyse, me, we're all there. And Birgit is standing alone, excluded, because you died with anger in your heart. I can't imagine something more hellacious for either of you."

"The Orthodox Church teaches, in effect, that heaven and hell are one and the same," I said. "Let me grab a book."

I went over to the bookshelf in my study and pulled down a book. I flipped to the correct page and read aloud.

"Yes," Bethany said. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. I know that sounds strange coming from an agnostic, or maybe an atheist, but that makes perfect sense. Hell is of our own making. God doesn't send us there. We send ourselves there. Pardon what you might call blasphemy, but substitute yourself and Birgit there. Think about it."

"All the love that would surround me would be painful for her. And that would make it painful for me."

"Yes. And even if we dispense with all the afterlife stuff, it's eating away at you right now. It's been deep inside your psyche, but something caused it to surface."

"Counseling and talking with Jessica and Kara," I said.

She smiled, "Analysis, again?"

"Marriage counseling. It's been very interesting and very enlightening."

"How is Doctor Green?"

"I think his work with gay and lesbian couples and their circumstances in relation to society has helped him understand us, at least enough to help."

"He's worked a lot with people with alternative sexualities, not just gays and lesbians. He's done some groundbreaking work with people with serious sexual hang-ups, and, more importantly, with some transgender people."

"I do NOT get that one," I said. "I do not get it at all. You're born male or female. I know Jess has mentioned some bizarre genetic defects, but we're not talking about that."

"Don't be alarmed about not understanding it. I'm not sure anyone does. The mental health community is clueless about it, for the most part. I've run into one person like that during my internship and I have no tools and no training to even begin to deal with it. All I could do is try to work through the issues with the person, but it really was the blind leading the blind. I may have done more harm than good."

"So you don't believe it's a mental illness?"

"Remember, it's only an 'illness', in layman's terms, if it interferes with you functioning in society. And even then, it might be society that's ill, not the individual. Think about Jennifer and Josie, and Larry and Drew. Are they mentally ill?"

"No, of course not! Society is fucked up. Nobody should care who loves whom."

"Yes, and THAT can cause mental illness in gays and lesbians who simply want to live their lives and are constantly persecuted for it. Now, think about someone who, for whatever reason, feels they are the 'wrong' gender. If you think society is harsh on the gay community, this is worse. And we're not talking transvestites here, you know what that is from the Flip Wilson/Geraldine gag; but in real life, there are people who cross-dress to fulfill some kind of emotional, sexual, or identity desire. Well, here we're talking about a man who, for whatever reason, identifies as a woman. Do you remember Doctor Renée Richards?"

"Barely," I said. "The tennis player who was born a guy and somehow became a woman?"

"Yes. There was a famous court case in New York in 1977 where she won the right to compete in tennis matches as a woman. And that 'somehow' was hormones and reassignment surgery — removing parts and creating new ones."

I shook my head, "I'm sorry, Bethany. I can't wrap my head around the concept of changing sex."

"As I said, almost nobody can right now. Do you remember our talk about sexual desire being a continuum?"

"Sure. I even described it as a series of 3-D charts, because there are so many possibilities."

"Well, it's not just sexuality. It's identity. Who you are."

I nodded, "I've been talking about that with quite a few people over the last six to eight months. And with Anala before that. But gender identity? XX and XY are steady states, and nothing can change them, which is why I'm so confused."

"You and nearly everyone else, as I said. But think about what you told me about your friend, Abbie. She and her friends probably dress mostly androgynous — that is, their clothing and makeup don't vary by sex."

"I haven't seen a goth guy," I said. "But Abbie was wearing a wrap-around skirt and a blouse."

"She may be making allowances for her circumstances at home. Or she may just like that particular style. You need to see her in her preferred environment to be sure about it. It's like you making allowances for your mom at home, or Katy back in the day, or Veronica now. We all do it. I don't know her, but at some level she probably understands just how far she can push her parents, and because she's still in High School, she pushes right to the edge of the envelope, but doesn't break it."

"That does make a lot of sense."

"And you noticed that she trusted you almost right away. That's pretty rare, given how much of a Yuppie you are!"

"Did you ever see Valley Girl?" I asked.

"Yes, on HBO. It's just the reverse for you and your friend Abbie. You might try going with her to one of her parties. I think your eyes will be opened."

"I just can't see going out in public like that," I said.

"There are two options, really," Bethany said. "You could dress in all black, which I've seen you do before. Or you could just go as your Yuppie self. If you dressed in all black, you'd be seen as someone trying to transition into the community or possibly a poseur. If you go as yourself, you'll stand out like a sore thumb. The reactions you get will be VERY different in each of those cases. A lot depends on what your goals are."

"Self-discovery. Discovery of the world around me."

"A Well-Lived Life?" she asked with a soft smile.

"Exactly."

"Are you still keeping your journal?"

"Yes. Abbie's treatment was the typed equivalent of about ten pages of handwritten text."

"Good. Personally, I'd go as yourself. Be yourself. Some of the people will be wary of you; others might laugh at you or taunt you. But being accepted by a young, white, urban, professional, who's probably the exact opposite of counter-culture, would be good for them. And for you."

"But isn't part of their goal to utterly reject everything I stand for? Or at least what they think I stand for?"

"What happened with Abbie?"

"I listened to her, listened to her music, and we became friends."

"And you fucked like bunnies, of course," Bethany smirked.

"Of course," I deadpanned.

"Why do you think she did that?"

"Because I listened to her. I heard her out. And I didn't treat her like a clueless little kid, or worse, a freak."

"The two usual responses of adults to teenagers, depending on whether the teenager is a conformist or not."

"The exact responses I reject," I said. "If I've learned anything, it's that everyone has value and everyone deserves respect as a human being."

"Even Josh Benton?"

"Now you're pushing it," I said with a wry smile.

"Don't worry. My fervent hope is that he spent a long time, unwillingly, with a boyfriend in prison so he could feel exactly what he put all of us through."

"Damn, Bethany! Remind me not to piss you off!"

"It's not about being pissed off. It's about being violated. Do you remember our talks about Annie and consent?"

"I do."

"She felt violated. You were fortunate that she came to terms with what happened and accepted responsibility for her own actions. But you know where I put the fault there."

"Squarely on my shoulders. I learned my lesson. To the point where I frustrate girls quite often."

"You frustrate us for more reasons than just sex, Mr. Adams. So where are you on the whole Birgit thing?"

"What is it that you always say? That admitting the problem is the hardest part?"

"It is. So, now you've admitted it. What are you going to do about it?"