Chapter 17: Discombobulated

September 12, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

On Saturday morning, after an enjoyable night of fooling around, which had included Gudia giving her first ever blowjob, we left the apartment early to have breakfast at the diner in Bridgeport. I’d forgotten that Charlotte’s sister Candace worked there, but Candace didn’t give me any grief or even really let on that she knew me except by sight. When we finished eating I walked Gudia back to her dorm, then walked towards the L so I could get home quicker.

“Jonathan?” I heard a female voice call from behind me.

I turned to see Anala’s little sister, Papiya, hurrying towards me.

“Hi,” I said when she drew close. “What’s up?”

“Want to get a cup of coffee?”

“I need to get back to my apartment,” I said. “I have a friend coming over around noon.”

“It’s only 9:30am!”

“True, but I have a few things to do at my apartment before then.”

“Rain check?”

Even though I had been thinking about what might happen with Gudia if Lily and I started dating, the one thing I didn’t want to do was anger her, and something about the way she’d spoken about Papiya told me that even having coffee with Papiya would create a rift which I didn’t want to create.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I replied.

Papiya laughed, “You’re worried about Gudia? She doesn’t need to know if we have a bit of fun!”

Papiya was very pretty and had a great body, but my own sense of self-preservation was stronger than my desire to have fun with her. It wasn’t as if I was lacking sex — Teresa and I got together whenever we had the chance, and Gudia had certainly made it clear the previous night she wanted to fool around regularly. Upsetting the apple cart for what I assumed would be a one-night-stand was a bad idea, no matter how good the sex might be.

“As I said, I think it’s a bad idea. I need to catch the train.”

“Your loss!” she said.

I shrugged and turned to walk towards the L and was thankful when she didn’t follow or call after me. I reached the L station, paid my fare with a token, then climbed the stairs to wait for the northbound train which arrived about three minutes later. I arrived back at my apartment just before 10:00am, having changed trains and then walked from the L to the apartment.

“New girl?” Lily asked when I walked along the driveway towards the garage.

“One I’ve been seeing off and on since June,” I replied.

“But not serious?”

“No, not serious in the way you mean.”

“But for the right girl?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Are you seeing the other girl today?”

“Yes,” I looked around to make sure nobody could overhear, and added, “And you on Wednesday!”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Dinner with my Aunt and Uncle,” I replied. “That’s where I go on Sunday afternoons.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Laundry. Then straighten up.”

“The coin laundry?”

“Yes.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

“So long as your mom and dad are OK with it.”

“I’m free to move around! It’s not like I’m in prison! And my dad is OK with me hanging out with you.”

“Then let me get my stuff. I’ll be back down in a couple of minutes.”

I went upstairs, took the sheets off the bed and the pillowcases from the pillows, stuffed everything into the laundry bag with my dirty clothes, grabbed my detergent and fabric softener, and headed back downstairs. Lily and I walked the four blocks to the laundromat and after loading up the machine, I fed quarters into the slide, then pushed it in to start the load.

“What do you usually do while you wait?” she asked.

“Study or read, but I didn’t bring any of that stuff with me because you came along. We could go across the street to the bakery and get coffee.”

“Sounds good!”

We had a good time chatting and drinking coffee, and I found myself really enjoying my time with Lily. I wanted to spend more time with her, but it was still a month before she turned eighteen. I thought about asking her out before then, but she’d negotiated a later curfew and a bit more freedom with her parents as of her birthday, and I didn’t want to do anything which might mess things up. We finished our coffee then headed back to the laundromat so I could move everything to the dryer.

I started the load and we decided to take a walk while the dryer ran. When we reached the karate dojo, I stopped to look in the window and watch the class.

“Thinking of taking up karate?”

I shook my head, “No. I was just curious. The last few times I’ve been past here they haven’t been practicing.”

“Did you ever play any sports?”

“Not in High School,” I replied. “I didn’t have time. We can keep walking.”

“I think you’ll be more interested in the dance studio,” Lily teased. “Leotards are way sexier than those karate outfits!”

“You’re encouraging me to look?” I asked.

“Looking is OK; touching is a different story! Well, if we were a couple.”

“You’re not the jealous type?” I asked.

“I notice good-looking guys, so I figure it’s silly to get upset about something like that. I mean, don’t drool, but looking is fine. Trust me, I’m totally low-maintenance.”

“Low-maintenance?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m pretty laid back and just like hanging out together.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed.”

“That’s low-maintenance. You don’t have to spend money on me or anything to impress me or make me happy. I mean, I won’t object, but it’s more important to spend time together than anything else, even if we’re just chilling.”

“Cool,” I replied.

We did walk by the dance studio and I did enjoy the girls in leotards, though I made sure we didn’t linger too long, so as to honor what Lily had said. We returned to the laundromat just before the dryer finished, and after I folded everything, with her help, we headed back to the apartment. Lily helped me make the bed and straighten the apartment, then after a soft kiss, she went back to the house. About fifteen minutes later, Teresa arrived.

“What’s the plan for the day?” she asked after we hugged.

“I’ll leave it up to you.”

“The Sox are out of town, but the Cubs are playing the Expos if you want to go to Wrigley Field. We can sit in the bleachers.”

“I’m game,” I said.

“We’ll need to leave right now,” she said.

“Then let’s go!”

I grabbed my Reds cap and we left the apartment. We headed to the L and after changing trains, ended up at Wrigley Field just before the first pitch. Our seats in the outfield bleachers weren’t bad, given the size of the ballpark, and the fans were pretty rowdy which made it more fun. The only downside was not being able to have beer. Montreal scored single runs in the third and sixth innings, and the Cubs could only manage three hits, resulting in a 2-0 loss.

“So, now what?” I asked.

“Billy Goat Tavern!”

“You’re talking about the one on Lower Michigan near the Spurgeon offices?”

“Yes.”

We left the ballpark, which was only about half-full as people were still staying away because of the strike earlier in the season, and headed for the L. About forty minutes later we ordered our meals and then enjoyed our cheeseburgers, fries, and sodas. When we finished eating, we walked to Water Tower Place.

When we arrived, we checked the movie theater and decided to see Body Heat starring William Hurt and Kathleen Turner. The movie was very sexy and there were some great love scenes which had me squirming a bit to stay comfortable. Teresa noticed at one point and leaned over and suggested we reenact the scenes in my apartment which only made things worse, though it also gave me something to look forward to.

When the movie finished, we headed for my apartment via the L, and basically attacked each other as soon as we were inside and the door was locked. The one scene we couldn’t reenact was making love in front of an open window, but otherwise we had a great time before we finally fell asleep snuggled together in my bed.

September 13, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

“Lisa’s in a mood today, just try to ignore her,” Uncle Alec said when he picked me up.

“When ISN’T Lisa in a mood?” I asked. “At least when I’m around. I’d kind of hoped she’d chill once I moved out.”

“I think it’s Lisa’s nature to be high strung,” he replied.

“Neither you nor Aunt Wendy are like that, and Mom sure isn’t. She must get that from Grandma and Grandpa.”

“If I agree with you, you have to promise not to repeat that to Wendy!”

“I’d never rat you out!”

“Have you thought about seeing your grandparents?”

“Mom would have a cow,” I replied. “And given how they treated her, I don’t really think I want to. I’m not sure I could keep quiet about how low it was to kick her out of the house.”

“Things were different in the early 60s.”

“And by 1969 they were more tolerant?”

“They did try to reconcile, but your mom wouldn’t hear of it.”

“I know. She let me keep the bribe,” I replied.

“Bribe?”

“A .22 rifle they gave me when I was eight.”

“That’s about the time they decided they’d made an error. Lisa was about two at that point, and they came to terms with that. You didn’t bring the rifle with you, did you?”

“No. Mom was worried about the gun laws here, and I’ve noticed nobody here seems to have a gun.”

“It’s pretty rare. People downstate are more likely to have guns, or people in Wisconsin or Indiana. Anyway, if Linda would be that upset, then it’s probably best to leave it be. I suspect they’ll invite you for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“I hoped to go home for Christmas, because it’s on a Friday and the office closes at noon on Christmas Eve. I was actually going to ask if I could borrow a car.”

“Of course. What about Thanksgiving?”

“I suspect I’ll have at least two invitations.”

“Girls?”

“Yes.”

“Anything to share?”

I shook my head, “Nobody serious yet. Just dating a few of girls and talking to a few others. The main one is the sister of the girl who’s engaged to my friend Tom who’s starting at the Fire Academy tomorrow. But it’s not serious.”

“You’re only eighteen, so no need to get too serious.”

“Says my uncle who started his family at nineteen! And my aunt was eighteen at the time!”

“Hot tip for you, Jonathan, that’s not a good plan for your life.”

“No kidding.”

“Just be careful with your ‘non-serious’ girls.”

“Exceedingly.”

We arrived in Logan Square and after Uncle Alec found a parking spot we walked to the townhouse. He reminded me to ignore Lisa and I promised to do my best. She was her usual bitchy self but I ignored all her attempts to upset or annoy me. She still had the delusion that every guy, including me, wanted to sleep with her, which just struck me as gross because she was twelve, not to mention the fact that she was my cousin and that she was a complete bitch.

“Are you working the whole weekend of the move?” Uncle Alec asked as he drove me back to the apartment after dinner.

“Mr. Nelson told me not to plan to sleep from Friday morning until Tuesday night!”

Uncle Alec laughed, “I hope it won’t be that bad, but you’ll make a small fortune in overtime.”

“As picky as some of those traders are, it WILL be that bad.”

“Sadly, you’re probably right. Are they putting you up in a hotel?”

“That’s what Mr. Nelson said, but he also didn’t expect us to get much sleep.”

“Make sure you get at least a couple of hours each night. Insist. If you don’t, you’ll make mistakes. Nelson will push back, but he knows that, too. Insist and be firm. But only with him, nobody else.”

“I have to make my own judgment there, but thanks for the advice.”

“That is, fundamentally, the only way forward. Remember what I told you about running your own money? The same thing applies to pretty much everything in life — listen to advice, but make your own decisions, based on all the information you have, and your gut.”

“My gut?”

“In the end, there will be times when there is no clear path forward, no clearly right decision. The difference between you being mediocre and great is your gut. If it’s good, and you trust it, you’ll be a superstar. If it’s bad, well...”

“I get it. And there’s really nothing I can do to change my gut.”

“You minimize the risk by gathering as much information as possible before you have to make a decision. Sometimes, you can delay for more information, but not always. You can’t be indecisive, but you also can’t be intemperate.”

“And that’s my gut again, isn’t it.”

“It is. My first deal was done on courage, information, and a gut feeling. It worked. The one thing I’d suggest you do differently is not bet everything on your first deal.”

“I’m playing things very conservative now,” I replied. “I’ll build up my capital before I make any real moves. I figure I’ll be in a position to be considered for a runner position in about eighteen months, and I’ll continue to study and do my best to keep Mr. Matheson happy.”

“That sounds like a good short-term plan. See you next week?”

“Absolutely.”

September 14, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

I met Rachel in the lobby of the building just after quitting time on Monday so we could head to Maxim’s for dinner. We decided to walk, as the weather was nice, and neither of us was in a particular hurry to eat. I was surprised when, as we crossed the Chicago River, Rachel slipped her hand into mine. Given our conversations during the previous month, I had no clue what message she was trying to send me, and I felt it better just to stay quiet.

Our silent, leisurely walk to Maxim’s lasted about twenty minutes, and when we arrived, we asked for a booth in the ‘no smoking’ area of the restaurant. The waitress brought us menus and asked about drinks. We both asked for Cokes and she left and was back a minute later with the sodas. We weren’t quite ready to order, so she left and was back about three minutes later to take our orders. After double checking what she had written, she took the menus and went to put the order in with the kitchen.

“Why does life have to be so difficult?” Rachel asked.

“Given that by our age, my mom had a two-year-old, I’m not sure I’m qualified to answer, or even ask, that question.”

“I suppose when you put it that way...”

“My eighth-grade history teacher liked to say that once you considered what happened to Jews in Germany during World War II, complaining about how difficult your life was seemed a bit out of line. At the time, I thought he was taking things a bit too far, but later I realized that nobody was going to put my mom and me in a concentration camp or gas us to death, and while our life was hard, that was only in comparison to the people around us. Compared to people in China or the Soviet Union or Ethiopia, we were in pretty good shape.”

“Did you ever complain?”

“About?”

“Life?”

“Not that I can remember. I had to work to help make ends meet, and hunt, and we had our garden, but that was just what life was to me. It was only after I came here that I truly realized how different things were if you had enough money, or in the case of the Suits at Spurgeon, a LOT of money. I think I told you what my goals were.”

“You did. You said you wanted to make a lot of money, but that was so you could have a wife and kids, with a nice house, a nice car, and be able to take vacations. And help your mom, which I think is actually your real priority.”

“She never once complained, that I’m aware of, except about one thing — my grandparents kicking her out of the house. And even that complaint was rare, and it was more about teaching me how not to treat people than it was about how difficult things were. And, to be honest, with what I’m making now, I feel like I’ve totally moved up in the world. I’m very content with what I’ve achieved so far, but I’m not satisfied, if that makes sense. I have a lot of hard work to do, and I intend to do it.”

“You have a good work ethic.”

“When your next meal depends on busting your ass hauling seed or digging a planting bed or stacking lumber or shoveling snow, you learn pretty quickly how to work hard. And it doesn’t matter what the work is — you do it exactly the way your boss tells you and finish it before whatever deadline he sets. Anything else is shirking your responsibility.”

“I guess I should have asked why life had to be so confusing.”

“I’m reticent to tell you my answer based on what we’ve talked about in the past.”

“Go on; I promise not to get upset.”

“It’s because you’re trying to live your life according to rules in some book or taught to you by some guy who claims God told him how everyone is supposed to behave. But that conflicts with what you want to do, and because that book or that guy told you what you want to do is sinful and will result in eternal punishment, you struggle. I don’t have that problem because I do what I want to do, with the limits of not hurting anyone and not being dishonest or breaking my word. That pretty much eliminates most sources of confusion, except for trying to understand girls!”

Rachel laughed, “My dad complains about that all the time!”

“With five daughters? I’m not surprised; I think I might go stir crazy!”