Chapter 61: Think About That

May 2, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

Huifen left just after lunch on Sunday, and because I had a few hours before my planned dinner with Lily and her mom, I settled down to read The Economist. I read for an hour, then made my usual Sunday call to Bev. She was doing fine, other than being tired, which was to be expected at the start of her ninth month. We didn’t talk about us, which I felt was good, because I was still trying to make heads or tails out of the conversations I’d had with Violet and Anala about Bev. I’d finally come upon a situation where I really would have liked to speak to my dad, but the closest surrogate I had for that was Bev’s dad, and he had his mind made up about what Bev and I should do.

I found it interesting that I’d had the thought of needing to talk to my dad when I’d never thought too much about him, beyond the brief conversations I’d had with my mom over the years, and then explaining to people about what had happened to him. The question was, in my mind, what man could serve as a sounding board the way a dad might. I had Anala, and I was also getting good vibes from Huifen in terms of advice, but I felt needed a guy’s perspective.

My uncle was a possibility, but having to be around Lisa made that unattractive. There was Matheson, and I’d be happy to have his mentoring with anything to do with work, but the fact that he regularly cheated on his wife with Spurgeon employees made him a non-starter for life advice. All the other men I knew were basically within five years of me in age, and none of them were married, or whatever Dustin and Costas might call their situations if they were permanent.

I hadn’t come up with a solution to my dilemma when it was time for dinner, so I pushed those thoughts into the back of my mind, then went to the back door of the house. I knocked and Lily let me in. We greeted each other, and I followed her to the front room.

“Dinner will be ready in five minutes,” she said.

“It smells great!”

“Fried chicken, home fries, homemade coleslaw, and fresh-squeezed lemonade.”

“Did I stumble into Georgia on my way here?” I asked with a grin.

Lily laughed, “Mom actually grew up near Atlanta and moved here as a teenager.”

“She sounds like she’s from Chicago,” I countered.

“She can do a Southern accent pretty well, but she said when she moved here, it was pretty clear she needed to speak the way everyone else did, so she focused on losing the accent.”

“How is school going?”

“Good. All A’s so far. What about you?”

“I’m earning an A in my class.”

“How’s your friend back home?”

“She’s doing fine. She’s due just over a month from now.”

“First babies can be late,” Lily observed.

“I know basically zero about pregnancy,” I said. “I had health class, obviously, but that’s the limit, beyond what Bev has told me.”

“I think most guys are clueless about it until their wife gets pregnant.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me, though I know Tom had to learn how to deliver a baby in an emergency as part of his paramedic training.”

“Kids, dinner is ready,” Mrs. Andros called out.

We went to the table, sat down, and Mrs. Andros began passing the food. I helped myself to a wing and a breast, about a dozen fries, a large scoop of coleslaw, and a homemade dinner roll. Once everyone had their food, we began eating.

“Thank you for inviting me to dinner,” I said. “Everything is awesome!”

“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Andros said. “And you’re welcome to take some leftovers for your lunches if you’d like.”

“I appreciate that,” I said.

I decided to broach the subject of Costas, as now that I had everything arranged for my new place, and I would be moving in just under two months, I wasn’t worried about souring the relationship the way I had been before.

“I met Costas,” I said casually.

“Jonathan,” Lily warned.

“It’s OK, Lily,” Mrs. Andros said. “How is he, Jonathan?”

“He’s doing well. He works for the Streets & Sanitation Department on a road crew and is living with his friend Trevor in Bridgeport. Trevor is finishing his PhD in English at the University of Chicago and lectures there as well.”

“You mean boyfriend, right?” Mrs. Andros asked, her voice neutral.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“I had hoped he’d get over that phase, or whatever it is,” she said.

“I’m no expert,” I said, “but I don’t think it’s a phase. I think it’s just who he is.”

“But it’s sinful and wrong,” Mrs. Andros said.

I shrugged, “I don’t know the source of that teaching by your church, but I wonder how two people loving each other can be sinful and wrong?”

“The Bible says so,” Mrs. Andros replied. “And so does the Church.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t your church take its teaching from the Bible?”

“Yes. And the traditions that have been handed down.”

“But men wrote the Bible, right?”

“Inspired by the Holy Spirit.”

“And you don’t think that one of them might have inserted his own beliefs?”

“No. The church preserved the Word of God.”

“I don’t know enough to debate it further with you,” I said. “I guess I just wonder if your love for your son can overcome your religious beliefs? I’m sorry if I upset you. I’ll drop the subject.”

“That’s probably best,” she said.

Fortunately, that didn’t ruin the evening, and I studiously avoided any mention of Costas in the conversation that followed. I enjoyed the food and the company, and when we finished, I volunteered to help with the dishes, and Lily and I did them together. When we finished, Mrs. Andros brought out a fresh pecan pie, ice cream, and coffee, and we had a nice dessert. Once we finished, we did those dishes, and then I said good night and headed back to my apartment.

I wondered how someone could treat their child the way Mr. and Mrs. Andros had, and realized I’d made an error in telling Costas that his mom might be more receptive. I was reasonably sure he wouldn’t contact her, but would wait for her to make the first move, so I didn’t feel it was necessary to call him to let him know. I truly didn’t understand how a religion that could claim to be about loving one’s neighbor could teach such things, but that was ‘beyond my pay grade’, as Mr. Nelson would say about some things at work.

I sat down at my computer and worked on a spreadsheet change that would allow me to print a graph, and after about two hours of trial and error, wrote down some notes and decided to wait for Bianca’s visit on Wednesday to get her help. I shut down the computer, picked up a book, and read until bedtime.

May 4, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

“You really shouldn’t have brought up Costas at dinner,” Lily said when she came up to the apartment for our dinner on Tuesday evening.

“May I say something without you getting upset?”

“I promise not to get angry even if what you say bothers me.”

“Your parents really shouldn’t have disowned Costas and kicked him out over who he loves.”

“You realize it’s a grave sin, right?”

“I realize no such thing! I know you’ve been taught that, but that doesn’t mean that the person who taught you that is correct. I mean, they taught you that having sex with me was a grave sin, and you did it anyway. That seems like a huge double standard, and I don’t see how going into a little wooden closet and telling somebody you did it changes a thing. Your mom believes you and I had sex, right?”

“Yes.”

“And she didn’t disown you or kick you out. Why?”

“It’s different!” Lily protested.

“Is it?” I asked. “Really?”

“It’s complicated,” she sighed.

“Not really. Somebody taught you those two things were sinful. The one YOU did, that’s all fine and good and can be forgiven or ignored; the one HE did cannot. But there’s no real distinction I can see except who he chooses to be with. And I don’t think you going to confession changed anything because you asked to sleep with me after you did that. Now I don’t know all the intricate details of the confession scheme, but it seems to me that if you say you’re sorry and won’t do something again, and then do it, that’s worse than never saying you’re sorry.”

“Because I wanted to do it with you when I spent the night.”

“Exactly. Do you see the problem? You think it’s wrong, but you want to do it anyway, after admitting to a priest it was sinful and promising not to do it again. But somehow that’s better than Costas, who never thought he did anything wrong and who makes no apologies.”

Lily was silent for a bit, and I just waited her out, because I knew I was pushing very hard. The problem wasn’t her faith, per se, because that was her business. It was the blatant contradictions in her behavior. If she and I had no relationship of any kind, I wouldn’t particularly care, so long as she didn’t try to make me live by her moral code. But because we did, and because Costas was becoming a friend, I did care, and was going to point out the contradictions.

“Maybe we should skip dinner,” she said quietly.

The way she said it, and the look on her face, told me the real story. She’d hoped our dinner would lead to ‘what we did after’, as she’d called it, and I’d basically foreclosed that possibility. The thing was, given my current situation, I actually might have considered it, if it weren’t for the outright contradictory ideas she was trying to hold simultaneously.

“I’m happy to have dinner with you,” I said. “But it’s up to you.”

“It’s just ... never mind.”

“You may as well say it,” I said. “Get whatever it is out in the open.”

“You’ll just attack me again.”

I took a deep breath and let it out.

“I’m not attacking you,” I said carefully. “I’m challenging what you believe. Those are two different things. I mean, unless I’m perfect, I have to admit I could be wrong, and then someone should challenge me. That’s how we learn, at least in my experience. I mean, sure, there’s classroom stuff, but all the important lessons I’ve learned since I came to Chicago come from people asking me questions that make me think. Sometimes I change my mind, sometimes I don’t.

“One thing a friend said to me is that if your ideas of how the universe works can’t stand up to scrutiny, then that’s your problem, not the problem of the person asking the questions. And it’s your ideas and your thinking I’m challenging. If you feel like I’m attacking you, I think that says more about you than it does about me. When you question me, I don’t feel attacked, I think about what you say, then evaluate if I need to change what I believe. May I say something very blunt?”

“Sure,” Lily replied flatly.

“Your problem is you believe what some priest or pope has said without questioning it. If you had questioned it, and concluded what they said was right, that’s a very different thing from just accepting it lock, stock, and barrel without thinking. You’re smart, Lily. Use the brain you believe God gave you! May I hazard a guess?”

“At this point? Why not?”

“You asked me to have dinner because you wanted ‘what happened after’ to happen. To be blunt, you wanted to fuck, despite thinking it’s a sin. That makes it a problem. Not because I think it’s a sin, but because you do. And that means what happens afterwards would be even more unpredictable than any other casual encounter.”

“What do you mean?”

“At least in my limited experience here in Chicago, girls who engage in casual sex aren’t likely to regret it or run off to confession and promise never to do it again while wanting to do it again. Sure, some might regret it, but that would be more like understanding they made a poor decision, not that they had sinned. Those two things are very different. Maybe it was unfulfilling, or the guy turned out to be a jerk or whatever. That’s a whole different thing from your conception of sin.

“I’m mostly clueless about the concept, but if I understand correctly, the theory is that you harm yourself, offend God, and create some kind of rift between you and God that has to be fixed by going to a priest and telling him what you did, that you’re sorry, and that you promise not to do it again. A girl who simply regrets the encounter for whatever reason just doesn’t see the guy again, or maybe she doesn’t do it again for some time. Do you see the difference?”

“I suppose.”

“Do you see why I wouldn’t accept your theory that I should do it with you because I do it with other girls?”

“Because none of them are Catholic?”

“On the contrary,” I replied. “Several girls I’ve dated were raised Catholic, but don’t view anything we’ve done as sinful. It’s not about going to church, or believing in God, it’s about how that plays out in your life. I mean, we used birth control and if I understand correctly, that’s never, ever permitted by the Catholic Church.”

“It’s not.”

“But as I understand it, a lot of people who are Catholic ignore that rule and don’t think it’s sinful, or if they do, they don’t go to confession and promise never to do it again. They just keep it private and have some theory about how God will deal with it that doesn’t involve them burning in Hell for eternity because they used a rubber or took a pill.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“I’m no expert on religion, but isn’t that the basic structure of the deal — obey me and you go to heaven; disobey me and you burn in Hell for eternity?”

“It’s more complicated, but yes.”

“Now,” I grinned, “I think I’m pretty good in bed, but even I have to admit that having sex with me isn’t worth burning in Hell for eternity!”

Lily laughed, which is what I’d hoped would happen.

“I’m not so sure about that!”

“I’m not THAT good,” I chuckled. “Nobody is. But you see my point, right?”

“I do.”

“Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s start cooking, and we can keep talking if you want.”

She walked over to the kitchen counter and laid out the ingredients she’d purchased, and we began working together to make the meal.

“I want to ask a hypothetical question,” Lily said.

“Go on,” I replied.

“If I decided it wasn’t a sin that required me to go to confession, would you be interested? I mean, just as friends?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that...”

“It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question,” she said, interrupting me.

“I think the answer is ‘it depends’. I do find you attractive, and I did enjoy having sex with you, but I’m concerned about you deciding to have casual sex, based on everything you’ve said since we first started dating.”

“It’s different now, because I’m not a virgin.”

“I can understand that point, but I was more concerned about your views on casual sex, at least as you’ve expressed them to me over the past eight months.”

“And I can’t change my mind?”

“Not to be a jerk, but in the same way you changed your mind about having done it, which caused you to go to confession and call it sinful and promise not to do it again?”

“But isn’t that my problem, not yours?”

“If I didn’t know about it, I’d agree with you. But because I know about it, I think, ethically, I have to take it into account when I consider the answer to your question.”

“Do you worry about that with any of the other girls?”

“In the sense of basically treating them the same way? Yes. I mean, if I knew there was a serious chance they’d regret it afterwards, then I’d think twice, and probably wouldn’t do it.”

“It sounds like there’s nothing I can say that would convince you.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why do I want to do it?”

“Yes.”

“Because it felt really good, and I liked doing it with you a lot. I miss doing it with you and want to do it, I’m still on the Pill, too.”

“Do you see it as a first step to getting back together?” I asked.

Lily’s shoulders sagged just a bit, and she quickly recovered her posture, but her reaction made it clear that was the case.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

I was positive she did know, and I was also reasonably sure that I’d encouraged it by allowing her to spend the night after her dad had died, even though we didn’t fool around at all. I thought back to my conversation with Anala about being manipulated, and I was very concerned that if I did have sex with Lily, something I had enjoyed, it would lead down a road I didn’t want to travel, in fact, couldn’t travel.

“Then the best solution is to have dinner, spend some time together, and then you go back to your bed.”

Lily visibly sagged, but didn’t say anything. We quietly prepared dinner, communicating only enough to ensure everything was done according to the recipes she had. When dinner was ready, we sat down to eat, and the conversation resumed, though about school, work, the weather, and every topic except her brother or sex. When we finished dinner, we cleaned up, then spent about an hour talking before she said ‘good night’ and went home.

May 5, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

Wednesday was a typical day at work, and we were moderately busy all day, with no special requests, and, amazingly, no copier breakdowns for the seventh day in a row. I was sure THAT wouldn’t hold, and half-expected all the copiers to suddenly go ‘tits up’ as one of the Suits, who was from London, would say. As usual, I fended off the flirting from the secretaries, which showed no sign of letting up, and at the end of the day, hurried home so I could get to class.