Chapter 37: Hell If I Know!

January 3, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

“When I first met you, you said you always give as good as you get,” Nickie said when we walked into my small apartment.

“Actually, I said ‘usually’,” I countered.

“Your memory of that first conversation is that exact?”

“You’re a nursing student at Loyola in your first year. You do one year of classroom work, then two years of practical training, which means you’ll put in IVs and give drugs to patients before you’re legally allowed to drink. You didn’t have class that first afternoon, you aren’t interested in marriage until after you graduate from nursing school, your uncle is Phil Perkins, a floor trader at the CBOT, and you invited me to hang out with you that evening.”

“Jesus!”

“No, Just Jonathan. That Jesus guy has been dead for roughly two thousand years and despite assertions of his imminent return, it’s never happened, and I’m convinced it never will.”

“You know I go to a Catholic university, right?”

I shrugged, “Everyone is free to believe what they want, so long as they don’t try to make ME believe it!”

“So what do you believe in?”

“Things I can hear, see, smell, touch, and taste,” I said.

“All those apply to me, and I like being worshiped!”

I laughed, “Like all ‘princesses’! Did your dad call you that?”

“Of course!”

“The same was true for my friend back home — her dad called her ‘Princess’ and treated her like one.”

“I missed out on that last part. My dad is an ex-Marine.”

“Then I think I’ll pass on the touch and taste part!” I grinned.

“If he didn’t kill my first real boyfriend, he’s not going to kill you!”

“I’m sure there’s an interesting story there.”

“For a taste and a touch, I’ll tell!” Nickie smirked.

“And just where would you like me to touch and what would you like me to taste?”

Nickie laughed, “Let’s start with a kiss and worry about the more interesting places after that!”

I gently pulled Nickie into my arms and we exchanged a gentle French kiss which tasted of cherry lip gloss. I slid one hand to cup her firm butt, and the other the cup a small, firm breast, thus fulfilling her request for a ‘taste and a touch’. We broke the kiss and I released her and stepped back.

“So, the story?” I asked with a silly grin.

“You stopped kissing me to hear a story?!” she protested.

“Not at all! I kissed you so that I could hear the story!”

Nickie laughed softly, “You’re a literalist, obviously. Or a smart ass.”

“Both! But why not take people at their word, fulfill their requests, and expect them to do the same?”

“Because that’s not how the world actually works! One of the first things we were taught is that patients lie to medical staff all the time.”

“Of all the stupid things to do, I can’t think of one that’s more stupid, except perhaps listening to old men in funny hats telling you how to conduct your life!”

“I haven’t been to church since I was fifteen. And that’s actually part of the story.”

“Do tell!”

“At that time, Dad was based in Okinawa and we were living on base. We’d moved there when I was twelve, and we were close to rotating back Stateside so he could retire, which he did last year, after twenty-three years in the Corps. The day after my fifteenth birthday I met a PFC who was newly-assigned to the base. We started seeing each other secretly, and six weeks later, he very expertly took my virginity.

“We continued seeing each other for about a month after that, then my dad caught us, not quite in flagrante delicto, but close enough that we couldn’t deny it. Dad was singularly unhappy, but didn’t report the PFC, though he did his best to make his life hell for the next six months we were there. Mom’s response was to take me to church and have me speak to the priest. I told him that I didn’t think a fifty-year-old virgin was in ANY position to discuss my sex life, and that was the last time I went to church except for a couple of baptisms and a wedding.”

“I take it your dad could have actually had him punished?”

“My dad could have had him jailed. The UCMJ, that’s the Uniform Code of Military Justice, makes it a crime, in the military, to have sex with someone who is under eighteen.”

“Why didn’t he turn him in?”

Nickie smirked, “Because I could do basic math! Dad and Mom dated two years before they married, which they did the day after she turned eighteen which was also the day after she missed her period. Nobody was the wiser, because a two-week difference is impossible to prove for a baby born in the ninth month of pregnancy. Generally, you get pregnant about two weeks before your period starts. My grandmother confided in me that she knew my mom was fooling around at sixteen, and didn’t do anything about it because she was sure she was going to marry my dad.”

“How old was he?”

“Twenty-two when they met. In 1961, people didn’t think that was crazy the way some people are starting to think.”

“What does your dad do now?”

“He works for a defense contractor. It’s pretty common for ex-military, both officers and enlisted. Your turn!”

Nickie laughed, “For a taste and a touch?”

“That all depends,” I smirked.

“What did I say? Start with a kiss and worry about more interesting places after that?”

“That is what you said,” I replied.

Nickie rolled her eyes but stepped forward so we could exchange another soft French kiss. I felt her hand on my butt, but rather than put her hand on my chest, she slipped it inside my jeans. She moved her palm over my briefs and allowed it to rest on what was now my semi-flaccid dick. A minute later, she broke the kiss.

“Impressive,” she declared.

“My kisses ARE that good,” I said smugly.

She laughed, “Nice. Were you always this confident with women?”

“Not even close! Things have changed a lot in the past seven months.”

“Your story?”

“My next-door neighbor. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know her. We played together as toddlers, and as we grew up, we hung out a lot. Our houses were adjacent to a farm, and there was a barn we were allowed to play in. The farmer was cool with it, so long as we didn’t make a mess, touch any equipment, or mess with the horses, though we could feed them. When we were in second grade, we played ‘doctor’ a few times, but it was really just pure curiosity, nothing else. We stopped when we nearly got caught by the farmer.

“A few years later, we started wrestling in the hay, but it was just two kids being silly, nothing more. Then, she turned into a girl, if you know what I mean. Nothing much happened, though we did keep wrestling. On her sixteenth birthday, she kissed me and five minutes later neither of us were virgins. We, of course, made absolutely sure that was the case before the night was out.”

“What happened?”

“You mean why did we break up?”

“Yes.”

“We were never a couple, at least not in any official way. When I announced I was moving to Chicago, she started dating a football player.”

“Ouch.”

“Not really,” I replied. “It made sense to me, and as I said, we weren’t a couple. I wasn’t hurt by it, nor did I feel bad, or cheated on, or anything like that. Our conversations did get a bit awkward, but we had a good talk when I was home for Christmas. I actually need to call her later.”

“You’re still friends, so I guess that answers my next question.”

“It’s actually a bit more complicated than that,” I replied. “She’s pregnant, and due in June.”

“Not yours, though, right?”

“Not mine; the football player’s.”

“And he dumped her, right?”

“He offered her money for an abortion, and when she refused, he said it was ‘all hers’ and they haven’t spoken since.”

“It doesn’t work that way, well, not at least in Illinois.”

“Nor Ohio. He’ll owe her child support.”

“Why do I sense there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Because you’re smart enough to be a nurse!”

Nickie laughed, “You would be shocked at how easy it is to become a nurse. There are some real airheads in my class who I think will make it. So?”

“She asked me to think about a future together.”

“Instant family; just add ring,” Nickie declared.

“That phrase has been uttered,” I replied.

“And?”

“And I don’t know. It’s a lot to contemplate at nineteen and why I’m religious about birth control.”

“So you ARE religious!” Nickie teased.

I chuckled, “I use that word ironically.”

“Obviously! Religious about sex! Now THERE is a religion I could get into!”

“Wouldn’t it be about getting into you?” I asked with a smirk.

Nickie laughed, “You didn’t strike me as being this witty at work!”

“Times and places,” I said. “I could be a real smart ass with Bev, and to some extent with my mom, but otherwise, I was totally serious, especially at work.”

“That makes sense if you want to move up at Spurgeon. You have to toe the line until you make enough money for them that you can basically do whatever you want.”

“Which I find to be wrong on a number of levels. There shouldn’t be two sets of rules.”

“I agree, but you know the real golden rule, right?”

“He who has the gold makes the rules?”

“Exactly. Why don’t you call your friend now so we don’t have to worry about it later? I’ll go take a walk. It’s not too cold outside.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” I replied.

Nickie put on her coat and left the apartment. I went to the phone and dialed Bev’s number. Her mom answered and called Bev to the phone.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“Good. Actually, great, because I got my best friend back. You?”

“Good, and I’m very happy about that, too.”

“How was the party?” she asked, and I could almost hear her smirk.

“Let’s just say I suspect some of those rumors we heard were true!”

Bev laughed, “And some aren’t! There was a rumor that the band had an orgy at their New Year’s Eve party the other night. Jo Nicholson said there was a lot of making out, but all the fooling around was couples in private.”

“School isn’t even in session! How did the rumor spread?”

“As my dad says, there are three instantaneous methods of communication — telegraph, telephone, and tell-a-woman!”

I laughed, “I remember him saying that!”

“I saw Jo last night, and she told me the rumor and that it was spreading, but that it was false. I’m pretty sure she’s telling the truth.”

“What you described is what happened at the party I was at — a bit of public making out, but anything serious was behind closed doors.”

“Care to share?” she asked lightly.

“I enjoyed myself,” I replied.

“I’m not going to be upset, Jonny. Have fun, enjoy yourself, and think about my question. I told you not to answer until after I have my baby, and I meant it. You made the one commitment I asked for, and that’s to be with me when the baby is born.”

“I cleared things with my uncle. I’ll speak to my boss tomorrow about the arrangements.”

“That’s good! May I say something?”

“When have you ever not been able to tell me something?” I asked.

Bev laughed, “True. You’re even better in bed than you were before! I feel like I should write a thank-you card to some girl in Chicago!”

“Thank you for stroking my ego!” I replied. “I very much enjoyed sleeping with you, and I mean the sleeping part. The other stuff was awesome, but being in bed together that first night, and just cuddling was wonderful.”

“Jonathan Kane! When did YOU become sensitive?”

“Oh, right, because I was mean and cold to you all the time we were growing up!”

“Sorry,” Bev said meekly. “I suppose you always were sensitive, and like many other things about our relationship, I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“Too late?” I asked.

“Sorry, I was referring to the things I realized about you and about us after Bob got me pregnant. I always saw you as cool, calm, collected, and determined. But you were always there for me, including letting me cry on your shoulder.”

“Which led to you biting my shoulder!” I teased.

“I’m glad it just left red marks, and didn’t break the skin, but that orgasm was so overwhelming I knew I was going to scream!”

“You’re welcome!” I chuckled.

“I don’t want to keep you too long and run up the phone bill, so call me again next Sunday?”

“I will.”

“And Jonny, whatever we decide, whatever happens in June, I want you in my life. It’s not ‘be a couple or never see each other again’.”

“I understood that,” I replied. “But it’s better to say it directly.”

“Talk to you next Sunday and see you Presidents’ Day weekend!”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up, then got the menu from the local Chinese place and ordered a chicken dish and beef dish plus eggrolls. I figured we could share, or if Nickie didn’t like one of the choices, I’d eat one and she’d eat the other. She came back about five minutes after I placed the orders.

“Safe to come in?” she asked sticking her head in the door.

“Yes. I spoke with Bev, then ordered our food. I got chicken and broccoli and Sichuan beef. I figured we’d share unless you don’t like one of them.”

“We can share,” Nickie said. “Everything good in Ohio?”

“I can’t say that, but in the little corner of it that encompasses my mom’s house and Bev’s house, I’d say things are pretty good. Well, minus Bev being eighteen and unintentionally pregnant.”

“Me being here isn’t violating any promises you made, is it?”

“No. Bev knows I’ve been dating.”

“Can we put on some music?”

“Sure. Radio or cassettes. I just have the small boombox on the shelf there, which my mom gave me for Christmas, along with six tapes.”

“Radio will be fine. I noticed you don’t have a TV.”

“I allocated my budget to other things, including investing and saving, plus sending money to my mom every week,” I said as I tuned the radio to WXRT, and set the volume.

“Your parents are divorced?”

“My dad died before I was born,” I replied. “Mom was sixteen. Well, seventeen when I was born.”

“That puts a whole different spin on your relationship with the neighbor girl.”

“It does, because I know what it was like growing up with just my mom and me.”

“She never remarried?”

“She never dated,” I replied. “In fact, her one and only date in her life resulted in me. Dad was some kind of salesman who traveled a lot. He and my mom met at a Reds game, she managed to see him once before he left Cincinnati. He died in a plane crash not long after she found out she was pregnant.”

“Damn! So I guess you can relate. May I say something that totally isn’t my place?”

“I like people who are direct and straightforward,” I replied.

“That’s a hell of a thing for your friend to dump on you. I mean, she HAS to know how you feel about your situation, and it almost strikes me as her guilting you into resuming your relationship. I’m not speaking out of self-interest here, because like you, I’m not really interested in a serious relationship right now. But she really laid a guilt trip on you.”

“I don’t feel that way,” I replied.

“OK, but even if you don’t feel that way, she made you feel responsible for her, right?”

“I suppose you could see it that way, but I’m not sure how I feel about it, other than wanting to help her. The question is what’s the best way to do that, both for her and for me.”

“So long as you truly consider that last part, it’s OK. But you can’t do it just for her. I’ve seen that with one of my friends. Her boyfriend got her pregnant, they got married because he felt he had to. It lasted about six months after the baby was born and then they divorced and aren’t speaking to each other. They never should have married, but he felt compelled.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Just make sure you do what’s best for you. Your responsibility is actually limited in this case, because it’s not your baby. If it were, then the calculation would be different, though you would still have to decide what was best for you, her, and the baby. Sometimes, that’s not getting married. I counseled my friend to have an abortion, and I think she should have, but once she’d guilted her boyfriend into marrying her, she decided to keep the baby. You don’t have a problem with abortion, do you?”

“It’s not my body,” I replied. “I don’t think I, or old men in fancy robes, should tell women what they can and can’t do with their own bodies.”

“You mean clergy or the Supreme Court?”

“Both. At least the Supreme Court got that right — it HAS to be between a woman and her doctor. If she wants to ask the guy, fine, but she has to be able to make the final decision.”

“When does life start?”

“Who the hell knows?” I asked. “I mean, technically, I guess you could say when the sperm and egg join, or at least that was implied in biology class. But are those few cells a ‘person’? That question is WAY above my pay grade, and I’m not sure anyone can answer it in a way that satisfies everyone. Which leads me right back to it being up to the woman to decide. Don’t get me wrong, I’m VERY happy my mom didn’t have access to legal abortion, but if she had, I would not be here to even give an evasive answer!”

Nickie laughed, “You actually gave the right answer — it has to be up to the woman, not some priest or politician.”

“So what happened after you got caught?”