Chapter 3: Compromise

After her second trip to Aldersgate, Candy Wharton thought that the girls’ support was all very well, but she had to provide some support for herself. She started on her courses. 1979 was coming to a close, and the quarter was closing with it.

She had missed only a few Phys-Ed classes, and she resolved to not miss any more. She was taking basketball, ironically enough, and she threw herself into getting on top of the rules. Her grade midterm in PE had been her only B. History was probably beyond hope by now, and she decided to cut her losses instead of throwing effort into failing it more narrowly. She was almost back to speed in Economics. There had been a bad month there, but she’d caught up. She resolved to catch up in English and Geology, too.

She considered returning to Aldersgate on the 9th, but that meant either accepting Eric Stewart’s invitation to call him for a ride or rejecting that invitation. Either course had its problems, and she dithered between them until it was too late to call him. Showing up without calling him might offend the one male who stood in her corner, and she’d found out the last time that simply showing up didn’t guarantee seeing Claire, and Joan might not come this time, either. She hadn’t quite decided by Saturday evening, but the beginning of a snowstorm then decided for her.

Even without the support, the week went tolerably. Her stomach was a little queasy before PE, but somehow basketball settled it down. Wednesday, Prof. Pierce called her aside to tell her that her grade on the final exam would probably be her grade for the course.

“I know students think of grades as judging you. Really, though, they are a judgment on your knowledge. It isn’t enough for me to know that you would have learned more economics under different circumstances. The grade I give you is a certification of what economics you know.”

“Well, Professor, that is fair.” And, as well as a reason to learn the course, it was really one more fragment of help from a woman who had given her more help than anyone else had.

Saturday morning, though, it all fell apart. She’d felt queasy for a week, but she barely made it to the bathroom to throw up when she woke up on Saturday morning. The nausea was bad enough. What it might signify was worse. Could it be morning sickness? Well, her period had been due that night, and she had put in a Tampax just in case. The Tampax was dry.

She’d already missed an earlier period, and she’d attributed that to stress. Well, she was still under stress, but she might well be pregnant, too. She stayed in her room except for lunch and dinner. She feared that Mom might be able to tell that she was pregnant just by looking at her. How, she couldn’t say. It certainly wouldn’t be by the fit of her clothes. She’d been eating enough less since the rape that she’d lost weight.

Finally, she decided that she really needed the support she’d been offered, and the streets weren’t in shape for traveling by bus. She called Eric Stewart.

“Mr. Stewart, this is Candy.”

“Hello Candy. Nice of you to call. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I know it’s late.”

“Not at all. I don’t go to bed for hours yet.”

“Well, it isn’t late to talk, but it’s late to ask for a ride to church.”

“Not too late. Your place? I mean pick you up at your place? Let’s see, church starts at 11:00. I don’t like the driving conditions; let’s say half an hour. Leave your place at 10:30. Is that okay with you?’

“That would be fine.”

“Is there anything else you want me to do? I mean come in and meet your folks?” Definitely a bad idea.

“No. Can you be in front of the door and still in your car at 10:30?”

“Sure. I might have to circle the block, but I’ll be there within two or three minutes of the time you set.”

“That would be marvelous.”

“Does Claire know you’re coming?”

“No.”

“Would you like her to know? Want me to call her?”

“Could you?”

“I can try. Who were the others?”

“Gwen and Joan.”

“Well, I’ll try for them. I can’t place Gwen.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You’re quite welcome, Candy. In front of your house at 10:30 tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” And, after all that dithering, it had been that easy.

She went out a little early, and he drove past almost immediately. He started to get out of the door when he stopped, but she opened the other door before he could go very far.

“Claire said ‘yes,’” he began. “Joan said ‘maybe.’ Look, there is something I should warn you about. After service on third Sundays, the church holds what we call a Coffee Hour. There is coffee, something to eat -- not a meal, maybe donuts -- and conversation. You can decide to deal with the coffee hour or not. Probably your friends will introduce you to some others of your age if you do. You can make the decision at the end of service. Tell me, and I’ll deal with it.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, as I said, you have to decide at the end. You want to go, and we’ll go.”

“You’re so kind, Mr. Stewart.”

“Well, if you want to return the kindness, call me Eric.”

“Thanks. Eric.”

“You’ll find that Aldersgate doesn’t deal much in last names. I’ll bet Claire doesn’t know mine.”

Eric parked the car and they both walked to the church. Claire was there waiting for them. She sat between Claire and Eric until Joan showed up. Eric moved aside to give Joan a place. After the service, Claire and Joan both urged her to come to the coffee hour, and she agreed.

“Look,” Eric said, “this is a time for you to meet your age group. It isn’t my age group. Why don’t we split up until you’re ready to go?” Prof. Pierce and her family were also there, and she, too, left Candy alone except for a greeting. When she felt she’d had enough socializing with the few college and graduate students there, she got up. She did, though, tell them that she would be back the next week. She went over to Eric’s table. He excused himself immediately and walked her to the door. “Why don’t you wait here, again?” Eric said. She waited until he drove up. This time, there were few people leaving right then and no parade of cars driving to pick them up.

“Claire’s a nice woman, isn’t she?” Eric asked.

“I think she’s wonderful.”

“Look, as I said, Coffee Hour isn’t really a meal. Shall we stop on the way for a real Sunday dinner?”

“You have been so kind, already.”

“Well, I’m a bachelor. I cook some meals, but not Sunday dinner. It isn’t as if I had a meal waiting for me at home. If you refuse to eat with me, I’ll just visit a restaurant after dropping you off. Solitary eating isn’t as dangerous as solitary drinking, but it’s rather sad. When I’m eating alone in a restaurant, I always think the other diners are looking over and saying, ‘Poor man; he doesn’t have any friends.’ Think of it this way, I saved you from a long bus ride, and you’ll save me from the pity of waitresses.”

“You’re a nice man. I’m sure you have many friends.”

“A few, but I’d rather be eating with you.” Well, by now, Mom and Dad would have finished eating. She could have a meal, but not without some criticism.

“Thank you, Eric, I’d be happy to eat with you.”

This time, it was a rather standard restaurant. It was several steps above McDonald’s, though. She liked the taste of the food, but she found that she could eat only half the meal. Even so, he offered her dessert. When she refused, he didn’t order any for himself.

“Look,” she said while he was waiting for the check, “I told some people I’d be there next week.”

“Okay. Same time for pick-up? Earlier? I really don’t think later would leave any time for traffic jams.”

“I should have asked you before committing you.” She was grateful, though, that he didn’t expect her to go public transit. Getting to Circle was bad enough.

“Well, I can’t remember what I said precisely, but my understanding was that I was available any time you wanted to come.”

“And I kept you out of choir.” Really, though, he could have gone to choir after driving her there.

“You didn’t deprive them of much. Aside from a little sexual balance, I contribute very little to the choir.”

“But don’t you enjoy singing?”

“Yes, but I enjoy sitting with you much more.” She, able to think of nothing to say to that comment, said nothing. They sat in silence while he drove for another two miles. “Look,” he resumed as if the silence had been seconds instead of minutes, “what is your easiest day? What day has the least schoolwork?”

“Well, I had fewer classes Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.” That was all information about the past, of course. The next week was final exams, and the next quarter she would have a different schedule, though probably not all that different. Anyway, it was nice of him to show an interest, however clumsy his question. “But I had Physical Education Tuesday afternoon.”

“So you have the least prep for Thursday. Would you be willing to have me take you out to dinner on Wednesday night?” Now, where did that come from? And, really, if that was why he was asking, she should have told him that this coming week was exam week. Actually, though, she didn’t have an exam scheduled for Thursday, and only History scheduled for Friday.

Well, it was the invitation for a date. Two months ago, she’d been dying for a date invitation. And Eric was an older man, if not a terribly impressive one. Still...

On the other hand, Eric wasn’t the type to assault her. He’d laid out for her the proper response to an assault, and she knew people who knew him. For that matter, he wasn’t the dominant type like Jerry. Her thoughts were still going around in circles when he interrupted them.

“Nothing else is contingent on your answer. I’ll still pick you up on Sunday morning. You want to think about it?”

“Yeah.” She was already thinking about it. Well, he’d said that he was interested in dating her. Suddenly, she was the Prom Queen again, or -- really -- the girl she’d been her whole senior year leading up to being Prom Queen. She didn’t have the choices among suitors that she’d had then, but she had one suitor who wanted the date enough to allow her to set the rules.

“Well, why don’t I call you tomorrow night? Will that be enough time for thinking about it? Really, I don’t need the decision before Wednesday, but my mother told me that inviting a girl for a date on one day’s notice was bad form.”

Well, she was almost decided, but a day for thinking it through might be a good idea. “Fine. Call me Monday night.” He parked the car as near as he could and walked her to the door.

She thought the question of a date with him through, although she was conscious that she had already reached a conclusion. He was a nice guy, and as little of a threat as any date possibly could be. Either she was going to date in the future or she was not, and deciding to not date meant allowing Jerry to utterly destroy her life. She wasn’t really ready to date yet, but if she was going to date sometime, delay didn’t make all that much sense. And, finally, he was a nice guy. When she went out on a date with a guy, she would have to tell him her past sometime. The later she left it, the worse the guy would take it. And, telling him would risk his telling others. Well, Eric knew her past.

Her time deciding interfered with her study for Geology. So she decided to say yes, and then tore into the book. Monday, the test was harder than she expected. At 6:30 that evening, the phone rang, and Mom answered it.

“Candy!” She went to the phone.

“Candy? This is Eric Stewart.”

“Yes, Eric, how are you.”

“I’m fine -- better from your calling me by my first name. And, how are you?”

“I’m doing fine.” Actually, she wasn’t. Aside from the worries over her Geology test, she wasn’t feeling well physically.

“Have you decided about my invitation?”

“What do you have in mind specifically?” Mom was listening shamefully, and she hadn’t mentioned the invitation to her. He should ask now so she could accept now.

“A meal together, another restaurant unless you have a particular liking for one of those we’ve eaten at together.” Eric wasn’t great at taking hints.

“Dinner with you Wednesday night? Why, thank you. I’d be delighted. What time?”

“Sorry. I didn’t pick up your hint. Would 6:30 at your place be all right? I’m flexible, but if it’s too early, I’ll have to come straight from work.”

“6:30 Wednesday. I’ll be ready. Thanks again.”

“And thank you. Goodbye.”

“What did I hear?” Mom asked.

“Everything you could. Can’t a girl have any privacy around here?”

“Are you trying to hide your date from me?”

“Are you asking me about my date?’

“Yes.”

“Okay. He’s Eric Stewart. He’s a friend of my Economics professor. He’s the guy who has given me a couple rides back from her church.”

“What sort of boy is he?”

“He’s not a boy. He’s a man. I think he’s a lawyer. Anyway, he’s very nice, and he asked me to dinner Wednesday night. You don’t have to plan on my being here for dinner then.”

“You’re going to his house? After what happened?”

“No. He specifically asked me out to a restaurant.”

“Well, your father will have something to say about this.”

She had Eric’s number, and if worst came to worst, she’d ask him to pick her up at school instead. They compromised on inviting him in to talk with Dad.

Tuesday morning, and again Wednesday morning, she was sick. She had missed two periods and now was sure that this was morning sickness. She was certain she was pregnant, but this was too much to tell Mom. The Economics test Wednesday morning seemed to go well. The English test that afternoon wasn’t fun, but she thought she had done decently.

When Eric got there that night, he rang the bell. Mom and Dad were in the living room, but she opened the door. Eric was dressed in an overcoat rather than the parka he’d always worn.

“I’m parked a ways away. Do you want to wait here while I drive around the block?”

“They say you have to come in and talk with them.”

“Sure.” He unbuttoned his coat and pulled a sheet of paper out of some inside pocket. “Here,” he said when he handed the paper to Dad after shaking hands.

“What’s this?”

“I thought somebody might question my bona fides. That’s a Xerox of my driver’s license and my ID from the State’s Attorney’s Office. I am who I say I am, and you can file that ID away.”