Chapter 4: Couple

Friday started out slow and luxurious. She woke to Bret’s alarm. She went back to bed while he made breakfast.

After eating, they both went back to bed while they made love. Somehow, the lovemaking energized Bret.

First, he took all the loose hangers out of the closet, and then he shoved his clothes into less than half the space. “This is yours,” he said, pointing at the side of the closet most accessible to the door. “Half a dresser won’t do? will it?” She shook her head. “Then we need a dresser for you. We need a study desk for you. Can it be in the living room?” She nodded. “How large a bookcase do we need?”

“I have a bookcase. The one in my room is mine.”

“Think we could put that in the living room, too?” he asked. “Now, take these pages,” he handed her an old subject note book opened to blank pages in the back. “Write down what isn’t in the kitchen that we need to have there for you to be comfortable. Staples, with non-staples in a separate column. You going home between quarters?”

“Yeah,”

“I’ll get the non-staples before you get back. For now, only the staples or what we can eat up in the next couple of weeks.”

“Only food?” She asked. “What about the things you need in a kitchen to be able to cook?”

“Make a separate list of that.”

She explored his kitchen. It was a fascinating exploration. He had a decent set of spices, all of which she would consider strong -- dried red peppers, but not powdered black pepper. He had a rice maker and a 20-lb bag, original weight, of rice.

He had no apron, which she had already learned. He had no dish towel; he just left the dishes in the drainer and took them from there to set the table except when he put them back in the cabinet when he expected her to visit.

He had ramen in several flavors. He had ground beef, orange juice, the ice cream he’d bought to fix them sundaes, and ice-cube trays in the freezer. He had sugar and salt, but no flour, in stock.

So, she made a list. After lunch, which was necessarily eaten out, they went shopping for groceries. When those were put away, they went shopping for furniture for her. She easily persuaded him to buy a vanity instead of a dresser. She learned that shopping with Bret meant that she selected, and he paid. Finally, they visited a Sears for dish towels, aprons, a tea kettle, and a second sauce pan. Having experienced wet spots already, she insisted on getting a mattress pad.

Saturday, they moved her books, bookcase, and linens into the apartment. She brought what clothing she didn’t want to take home with her, as well.

“Why take clothes home?” he asked. “You’ll need clothes here next quarter.”

“Well, I’m going to wear some of them there. I don’t want to fly naked. For a great part, though, I’m taking my summer stuff home and bringing back my fall and winter wardrobe.”

“Well, okay. I guess I have my winter clothes here already.”

He showed her his laundry system. One basket for white clothes, one for colored. “Anything in the white basket gets bleached. Anything too delicate for my system, you have to do yourself.” She figured that washing machines weren’t any rougher when he was putting in the money than when she did.

When they weren’t shopping or moving, they were screwing like rabbits. Sunday night, with a desert facing them, they went to bed before eight. He ate her out enticingly until she demanded that he finish her. Then he did, and he did again, and he did until she demanded that he let her sleep. Then he entered her and used her until she rose again. When she imploded for the last time, she took him with her.

Monday morning, she rose and showered, they picked up her luggage, and they ate waffles out before arriving at O’Hare.

“Can you drive?” he asked her in the car. She explained that driving was a much more useful skill, and nearly as universal, as walking where she grew up. It was an odd question, but he was an odd guy. They got her in line, and tried to get two weeks worth of kissing out of the way before her section boarded. They failed, but the attempt was fun.

“He following after you?” a grandmotherly-looking woman in the next seat asked. Asking who she was talking about seemed silly.

“I’m coming back to him.”

“Well, if you do, that much might seem embarrassing. When I kissed Hank goodbye when he went to ‘Nam, I was embarrassed. He didn’t come back, and I’ve regretted stopping the kiss every day since I got the news.”

Somebody approved of her romance. Unfortunately, she wasn’t her parent.

Mom, Dad, and Larry were in the car picking her up. Nothing was said, but you could have cut the tension with a knife. Larry had a date that night.

“Sorry I can’t stay to share the warm family togetherness,” he said when he drove off. Larry was not a subtle guy,

They sat down to dinner minutes later, and she got the question before the three-bean salad reached her.

“What’s this I hear about moving in with a guy?” Dad asked.

“I’ve just about moved in. My books and sheets are in the apartment. Most of the clothes are back here, but none are in the old rooms.”

“You could have talked with us.”

“I did. Mom said you wouldn’t pay. He said I didn’t have to.”

“Now, dear, that sounds like a man who is after only one thing,” Mom said.

“Y’know, Dad, Mom has been with only one man for more than 25 years. Her opinion of men doesn’t cast a very favorable light on you.”

“It’s closer to 30 years, dear,” Dad said. “We didn’t play the field one week and walk down the aisle the next. She’s right, though, Very many men think of women primarily in terms of sex.”

“I hate to break it to you, Dad. There are also women who want sex with a guy.” Mom winced at that; Dad didn’t look shocked. “Your daughter is one of them. And I’ve had sex that is less arousing than some of Bret’s kisses.”

“What does he do?”

“He studies. Or were you asking about his techniques in bed? His majors are Math and Computer Science. He’s entering into his last quarter. He took time off earlier, and he wrote some computer games that earned him enough to come back and finish his degrees. He plans to work designing more games in the future.”

“I don’t like this dropping out bit,” Dad said. “And designing computer games doesn’t sound like a sound career prospect.” Great. First they were complaining that he was boffing their virgin -- in their dreams -- daughter without putting a ring on her finger. Now, Dad, and Mom was nodding agreement, was judging him bad husband prospect.

“Well, Dad, four years ago, you would have been entitled to your opinion, although you don’t know any more about the market for game designers than I do. Four years ago, he took time off, and that might have been a risky decision. He went into game design, and that might have been less safe than flipping burgers, though not much less safe in 2008. The point is that he managed to sell game designs. He came back to school, and he’s getting a degree -- a University of Chicago degree, I might add.”

“Now, Amanda, don’t scorn your parents for merely attending Iowa State.” Back when she was choosing college, they had agreed that she should go for the best she could get, and they agreed to pay for it, too. Ever since, Dad -- especially Dad -- had thought her a snob.

“I’m not. But the U of C isn’t butt-fuck community college. And math isn’t basket-weaving. If Bret is getting his degree in math from the U of C, then he isn’t some dim-wit drop-out. So, he wants to be a game designer. Well, he has been a game designer. It’s the difference between the guy who hopes to write a novel and the guy who has written one and says he’ll write another. Ralph Ellison to the contrary not excepted, the second novel is much more likely to be written.’

“Now, honey,” Mom said, “we don’t know this boy at all.”

“And, all you know about him, really, is that I like him a lot. So, your only grounds for that opinion is that he’s my choice. You’re saying that he’s wrong for me on the basis that I’m probably wrong. All you have to judge is that I’m too stupid to be right.”

“Now, honey, what happened to the girl who told me that she didn’t think a boy should touch her breasts unless he loved her?”

“She graduated from high school.” Actually, she lost that opinion long before she graduated, but Mom didn’t need to know everything, especially about the past.

They ended the dinner without anyone committing murder or dying of indigestion. She, for one, thought both of these represented great self-control on her part.

Later, Mom knocked on her door. At her silence, Mom came in and shut the door behind her.

“Dad?” Mandy asked.

“Your father and your brother are watching TV.”

“Is there a game?”

“They’re watching the news. Sports is up next. I told you long ago, Amanda,...” Mom began. She had three daughters, Honey, Mandy, and Amanda. Amanda was in the most trouble by far. “ ... that there is no cause to rub your father’s nose in your sexual behavior. I know that you are a grown woman. After all, I paid for the visit to the gyn who gave you your contraceptive prescription. Men like to think of their daughters as good little girls.”

“After you told him I was moving in with a guy, and you both said that the guy was only interested in sex. Look, do YOU really think I’d move in before having sex with him? Well, you can keep Dad as ignorant of the ways of the world as you wish. I told you, and what you told him is your fault. What I didn’t tell him is that one of the many good things about Bret is that he thinks that I am sexy. Not every guy thinks that B-cup breasts are sexy.”

“You’ve always been pretty, honey,” Mom said. She forgot the pimple years, and Mandy hadn’t been talking about ‘pretty.’

“Look, we’re consenting adults. I’m on the Pill. I’m careful of my grades, and he’s careful of his and even more careful of mine. We took a pause for finals week so we could treat the exams carefully. What injury are we risking? It’s more pleasure than I have ever experienced in a comparable amount of time. If got that much fun out of mountain climbing or downhill skiing, you wouldn’t think of ordering me not to do it, and those are risky behaviors. Don’t go all Victorian on me; even if I may meet a man one day who wants a virgin bride, that bridge has already been crossed.”

“Besides,” Mom said, “you love him.” Now, where had that idea come from? She was marshaling her arguments to refute it when two problems hit her simultaneously. It hadn’t been a question. She couldn’t think of any argument against it.

Mom had gone on talking oblivious of Mandy’s inattention. By the time Mandy was listening again, Mom was on bridge, of all irrelevancies.

“So, if two distributions are possible according to the bids, and you lose in one of those distributions, you play as though the other distribution was in the hands. The difference between winning and losing is more important than losing by a smaller amount.”

“Thanks. Of the several things we do for amusement, bridge is not one.”

“I’m not talking about what you do together, but about how you play your own hand. When this breaks up... “ Mom, who could be oblivious to her kids, must have seen Mandy’s face.

“Okay, IF this breaks up, your heart will break. Then, painfully and slowly, it will mend. If you were to leave him now, you’ll spend the rest of your life thinking about what might have been. You’re taking one hell of a risk, but it’s the lesser risk.”

“It’s nice of you to decide,” Mandy said. “that this has no future based on nothing else than the assumption that you’re daughter is always wrong.”

“Look, honey, four months ago, you were in a not-very-serious relationship with a nice guy named Jerry. You were living in University housing, pursuing your chosen career. This guy...”

“Bret.”

“This guy, Bret, was living in his apartment pursuing a dream of designing computer games. Now there is nothing wrong with pursuing that career; if nobody designed them, we wouldn’t have them. I’m sure that some teens would think that would be a tragedy. But, anyway, he has this dream; he meets you. Now, he has this dream, and he has you. Your whole life is in upheaval. How has his life changed? What is he giving up for you?”

Mandy still thought that Mom -- and Dad -- was not taking Bret’s history seriously. He wasn’t dreaming of designing computer games. He was planning to design more computer games.

“Anyway,” Mom said, “you won’t be trapped in that apartment. We won’t contribute to your rent there, but if you have to move out, we’ll help you on that.”

Great! First Mom tells her that she was in love, then she tells her that Bret wasn’t, then she tells her that her heart is going to break, and then she promises help to keep her budget from breaking with it. She had probably got some of that sequence wrong, but all the elements were there.

The next day, she lazed around the house and pouted. That didn’t get her anything; it never had. Wednesday, she figured that she should see if one could get a wax job in or near town. Mom was a close friend of her hairdresser, so that was one place she didn’t want to go. She had shopping to do, she announced, and she offered to get anything anybody else wanted.

“No,” Larry said, “I’ll drive you.” She tried to dissuade him, but Larry was insistent. “I’ll let you go inside a store alone, if that’s what’s worrying you.” Great, she could buy Tampax without his seeing. She couldn’t get a wax job while he waited.

“So,” Larry said when they were in the car together, “what’s the big secret?”

“You think something is going on in my life that’s so secret that Mom and Dad don’t want you to know. So, you ask me to tell you?” Put like that, the question was totally absurd.

“Yeah.”

Well, he’d learn her snail-mail address sometime in the next year. Besides, they were Facebook friends. She wasn’t going to keep Bret off her Facebook account forever. “I’m moving in with a guy. Mom and Dad, particularly Dad, are not happy.”

“Medieval.”

“You’re in favor?” she asked.

“Sure. If you came home with a ring on your finger, Mom would be turning cartwheels. If this breaks up, it’ll be much simpler than a divorce. Starting out like this makes all the sense in the world.”

“I really appreciate it that everyone thinks I’ll break up with Bret before they even meet him. What am I, so despicable that no one would ever have me?”

“Now, big sis, I said ‘if.’ If you don’t break up, it can lead to the other. Just be careful you don’t bring home any unintended consequences.”

“I’m on the Pill,” she said. It was no big secret. She hadn’t wanted to suggest to her little brother that she was sexually active, but that cat was out of the bag.

“The Pill is not safe for the first month.” And where had Larry learned that?

“It’s not my first month.” It wasn’t her first year, for that matter, but true confession time had its limits.

“Tell me one thing,” Larry asked. “Is the guy good in bed?”

“Well, that isn’t the sort of thing that sisters discuss with brothers. For the last several months, though, we’ve had two or three dates a week. After some of the later dates, we had sex.” (There was no reason to tell Larry that “after” included the morning after the date as well as later in the evening.) “Now, living with him, we’ll probably have fewer dates. Almost certainly, we’ll have more sex. Would a woman make that trade for a guy who wasn’t good in bed?”

“What does that mean?”

“It was your question.”

“Yeah,” Larry said. “What makes him good in bed? What would make a guy, me for instance, good in bed?”

“It’s not an Olympic event. Bret is sexy with me because Bret cares that it’s me. As long as you are looking at your performance, then you’re not memorable to the girl. If you’re worrying about Larry, why bother about a girl? A Kleenex is cheaper.”

They had several shopping lists. When they got the groceries, Mandy added a package of pancake mix.

“Where did this come from?” Mom asked as they were putting the groceries away.

“You’re going to teach me how to make pancakes tomorrow.”

“If you’re up in time, I’ll teach you. Otherwise, read the directions on the box.”

“You didn’t teach me one hell of a lot,” Mandy said, “but you did teach me some cooking. Why didn’t you teach me how to cook any breakfast? I only know French toast and omelets, and omelets are for other meals, too.”

“I taught you how to prepare your own bowl of cereal. You think that’s elementary, but it wasn’t when you learned it. But, you’re right, and there were two reasons. One, getting you up in time to eat breakfast was a challenge for most of your life, and you are never going to be a homemaker. I taught you a few meals to impress your boyfriends. Remember in high school, we had one as a guest, and I told him that you had prepared the meal?”

“Yeah. A couple of times.”

“Well, honey,” Mom said, “I didn’t want you serving breakfast to your boyfriends.” And, now, she would -- since the alternative was eating the breakfast, the only one, which her boyfriend could cook. Well, she liked corn flakes. Mom was right about that, at least. A bowl of cereal was a breakfast.

She set the alarm on her cell, and was up in time to prepare pancakes. Dad was appreciative, if he didn’t look forgiving. Larry expressed his appreciation more in his consumption than in his words. Well, he’d mostly had his mouth full. Later, he caught up with her out in the yard where Mom couldn’t hear.

“Twenty years old and suddenly needs to make pancakes. Doesn’t have anything to do with this guy, does it?”

“Bret. The guy’s name is Bret.” She could have avoided the hassle by not telling them. If she had to tell them, they could at least learn Bret’s name. “Bret has many talents; he proves theorems, programs computers, designs computer games. He doesn’t cook many breakfasts.”

“Designs computer games?” Why hadn’t she told him? Larry played computer games, and she’d told Mom and Dad who despised them.

She said, “He calls the sort of games you play ‘shoot-em-ups.’ He tells me that scenery and animation are critical in those. They are designed by large teams working for big corporations. Bret works alone. Doesn’t sell as well as Grand Theft Auto, but it doesn’t have to be divided among as many pockets.”

“He designs the games, and you cook breakfast. Newest household appliance; you screw it on the bed, and it does all the housework.”

“Not like that at all.” And it hadn’t been like that at all. He’d been host, and she hadn’t done any housework. She’d only cooked breakfast because she was tired of the breakfast -- the only breakfast -- he cooked.

But he wasn’t going to be host. They were going to live together. She certainly expected to do her share. What did Bret expect? His Mom was a foodie; did he expect her to cook every meal? as a gourmet meal? And she’d told him to buy an apron and dish towels. He’d said that she wouldn’t pay anything; did he expect her to do all the housework?

If she’d had brain one, she would have clarified all these questions beforehand. Bret wasn’t a monster or even a cheat. The danger wasn’t that he had secret plans of exploiting her. The danger was that he had assumptions. When he’d said, ‘Come live with me,’ she should have asked what that meant. But he’d asked her to consider it when they couldn’t discuss it. Then, he’d asked her again at the last minute. That was an example of assumptions. He’d thought that he’d left it open for her to bring it up; she’d thought he’d started it and then abandoned it.

He’d explained his laundry system carefully, although he hadn’t said nearly enough about household chores. Did that mean that he expected her to follow his system? She wouldn’t mind doing the laundry; she did her own. She was fairly sure she’d mind following directions. At least in food, he wouldn’t expect her to follow his pattern. But, she told herself, she was treating Bret a way he hardly deserved. He’d described a system of sorting laundry when putting it in the to-be-washed piles. She couldn’t expect to toss her dirty clothes on the floor and have him sort them.

She should have been with him, and instead she was with people who didn’t know him and hated him. (Larry, who had looked up ‘Bret Donner’ on gamer web sites, had decided that his games were cerebral and effete. Why programming a 5-dimensional torus was more effete than programming a guy killing hundreds, he didn’t explain.) She should have been with him. Between her mood and the difficulty in getting the car for a trip alone, she never got the wax job, never even identified the place.