Chapter 63: «Coito Ergo Sum»

June 10, 2002, Apple Orchard Bed-and-Breakfast near Montpelier, Vermont

🎤 Birgit

“What are we doing today?” I asked Katy after breakfast on Monday morning.

“We’re replacing the furnishings in all the rooms in the original building, one room at a time. Would you help me and Don with that today?”

“Sure! All new furniture?”

“Sorry, ‘furnishings’ in this context means curtains, rugs, bedspreads, and other decorative items. The Early American furniture stays!”

“What do I need to do?” I asked.

“We’re doing the Ethan Allen Suite today because the guests are leaving this morning and I kept it open until Wednesday. If you go to the basement, you’ll see a stack of boxes marked for that room. Unwrap and unpack all the sheets and pillowcases and put them in the washing machine on the ‘delicate’ setting. They just need a rinse. Once those are in the washer, unwrap and unpack everything else, and bring it up to the room. Don should be here any moment, and we’ll start taking everything out of the room except the furniture.”

“On it!” I exclaimed.

[Rochester, Minnesota] 🎤 Jesse

“Mr. Block,” Coach Norm said. “Let’s look at the video of your session yesterday.”

“Yes, Coach!”

We went to an office, and he put a videotape into a machine and turned on both it and the TV. He pushed play, and the video started.

“You need to keep your stick on the ice,” Coach Norm said almost as soon as the video of our scrimmage started.

I stifled a groan because Dad had been saying that for years until my moms had made him stop.

“And you go into your butterfly too quickly,” he continued. “Once you commit, you’re vulnerable to high shots. That likely wasn’t a problem in the past, but now you’re playing against young men in their late teens. You need to stay on your skates until they’ve committed. Keeping your stick on the ice will help guard against the low shots, especially five-hole.”

The video, which had been edited to show only shots and my puck handling, played for about ten minutes, and he showed each time I didn’t play the way he was suggesting.

“Otherwise,” he said when the video finished, “you have good vision, good form, and you play the puck intelligently out of danger. You do have a proclivity to skate into the corner at times when it’s risky, but that’s worked out for you. Just be very careful.”

I didn’t make any ‘Patrick Roy’ moves, as Dad and I called them, where I skated away from the crease and gave up the puck to the other team. That was the real problem, not playing the puck.

“By the end of the two weeks, I want to see you on your skates until the shooter commits, and your stick on the ice where it belongs.”

“Yes, Coach,” I agreed.

“Head back to the ice and I’ll meet you there.”

“Yes, Coach!”

“How’d it go?” Bill asked when we boarded the bus back to the university for lunch.

“Coach Norm sounded like my dad,” I said, shaking my head. “Stuff my dad has said for years, but I played a different style. It worked against younger kids, but now that the shots are so hard, so fast, and so accurate, I can’t play the way I did. How about you?”

“He doesn’t like the way I use my glove and blocker, and I don’t hug the post enough. But I can fix those things the same way you can fix yours.”

Ten minutes later, we were at the university. We put our gear in a room that had been set aside for it to air out, then went to the cafeteria for lunch. We got our food, and I shook my head when Bill led us to the table where Scarlett was sitting. He sat down next to her, and I sat across from him, just waiting for him to say something dumb and get shot down hard.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Scarlett replied.

“I’m here,” Bill said to her. “What are your other two wishes?”

I suppressed a groan because if there was a dumber line he could have used, I’m not sure what it might have been.

“You really think a line like that is going to work?” Scarlett asked disdainfully.

“No,” Bill replied. “But it did break the ice.”

“And you’ve fallen through and are sinking fast!” Scarlett declared.

He was going to drown and there was no chance he’d get mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from her, except perhaps in a wet dream!

“Throw me a lifeline here,” Bill said.

“Not a chance!” Scarlett declared. “I think I’ll go sit with the coaches.”

She got up, took her tray, and moved to the table where the coaches were sitting.

“Seriously?” I asked. “That was the dumbest line in history! Why not just start a conversation?”

“That wouldn’t have gone any differently! The only chance I had was being goofy!”

“I think you’re wrong, but there’s no way to know now,” I said.

“You think you’d have a chance with her?”

I shrugged, “I doubt it, but talking to her as a peer would have a FAR better chance than a dumb pickup line!”

“I want to see you do better!”

I chuckled, “I think you might have poisoned that well for everyone.”

[Chicago, Illinois] 🎤 Steve

Kimmy had the week off, and rather than burden Bobby Ellsworth with getting my lunch, I walked to Potbelly’s to get one of their excellent salads. I waited in line, and after about ten minutes, came to the register to place my order.

“Powerhouse Salad, please, with regular vinaigrette,” I said to the cute girl behind the register. “To go.”

“Anything to drink with that?”

“No,” I replied. “Thanks.”

“$5.28, please.”

I handed over $6.00 and our hands touched briefly.

“You wouldn’t want to give me your card, would you?” she asked as she handed me my change.

“My card? Why?”

“So I can call you!”

“How old are you?” I asked, given High Schools were out for the Summer and she was clearly no more than eighteen, and possibly as young as sixteen.

“Seventeen,” she replied.

“You’re holding up the line!” a woman said insistently from behind me.

She had a point, and I didn’t want to create a scene. There were two options, one which foreclosed all possibilities, and one which left all of them open. Following my usual approach of giving myself maximum options, I quickly pulled one of my personal cards from my pocket and handed it to the girl. I took my receipt from her, then moved down the counter to wait for my salad. The male clerk handed it to me and I left the shop, heading back to the office.

As I walked, I just shook my head at the way my life continued to unfold. Once I’d stopped taking the propranolol, the effects of what the girls called the vibe had come back in full force. I was sure that was what had happened with the clerk at Potbelly the moment our hands had touched, even briefly, when I handed her the money. I was trying to remember if I’d seen her before at the store, but I was there so rarely, I didn’t remember any individual clerks, and I certainly would have remembered a cute strawberry blonde girl.

I arrived back at my office and sat at the low table to eat while I read Usenet news. When I finished lunch, I went back to my desk to work until Bob brought Mike DuCharme, a candidate for General Manager to my office. He was good, but not as good as Larry Jefferson, and I let Bob know that after I completed the interview. We had one more, on Wednesday, before we’d make an offer to Larry.

[Apple Orchard Bed-and-Breakfast near Montpelier, Vermont] 🎤 Birgit

“Birgit?” Amy asked just after 1:00pm. “Would you take our guests to their rooms, please?”

“Yes, of course!” I agreed.

“Hi!” I said. “I’ll escort you to your rooms.”

I knew which rooms they had, so I retrieved the keys from the lockbox, then led the man, his wife, and two teenage sons to the new building.

“These are your rooms, 203 and 204,” I said. “Breakfast is served from 6:00am to 9:00am in the dining room in the other building. If you need towels, fresh linens, or you encounter any problems, please dial extension 777.”

I handed over the keys to Mr. Powell, then headed back to the small office where Amy had checked them in.

“All set,” I said, then added, “Cute guys!”

“Thanks. Are you still helping Don and Katy with the room?”

“We’re basically done. Don was hanging the new rods for the curtains, which is the last thing we need to do.”

“Would you take fresh towels to room 106, please?”

“Sure. How many?”

“Two sets, please. You don’t need to hang them up, just hand them to Mr. or Mrs. Goldman.”

“OK.”

I did as she asked, then went to check with Katy on what she needed me to do. The room was finished, so we went to the kitchen to bake fresh apple pies and make ice cream.

[Chicago, Illinois] 🎤 Steve

Just after 4:00pm, my mobile phone buzzed, and the display showed an unknown 773 number. That was the new area code for most of Chicago outside the Loop, though, thankfully, we’d retained our 312 area code for our direct-dial numbers. I flipped open the phone.

“Steve Adams,” I said.

“Hi!” a female voice said. “This is Katelyn from Potbelly!”

“Hi,” I replied, then continued playfully, “Do you make a habit of asking men more than twice your age for their phone numbers?”

She laughed softly, then replied, “No; first time!”

“Care to explain?” I asked.

“Come have a Coke with me, and I’ll explain,” she offered. “You should be able to, given your card says that you’re the company president and a ‘Fellow’, whatever that is.”

“Where?” I asked.

“I’m just outside Potbelly. Your office is on Van Buren, but across the Kennedy, right?”

“Yes. How about Starbucks at 500 West Jackson? That’s midway between where you are and I am.”

“I’m not a coffee drinker,” she replied.

“And I don’t drink soft drinks, not even diet. But Starbucks has soft drinks, and I’ll likely order tea, rather than coffee. I can be there in ten minutes.”

“OK! See you there!”

I snapped the phone shut.

“What was that?!” Penny asked with a smirk.

“Someone I met today,” I replied.

“‘Someone’?” Penny asked.

“I’m leaving for the day,” I replied, ignoring her question. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Penny glared at me, but I knew it was mostly just for show. She and Terry were doing really well, and despite all the teasing, she would never cheat on him. I also knew that she’d never ask Terry for permission, given their history of infidelity, and the pain that had caused both of them. I put my laptop to sleep, put it in my bag, then left the office, stopping to change into my street shoes. I left the building and walked over to Jackson, turning right and arriving at the Starbucks about eight minutes after I’d hung up. Katelyn was standing out front, just to the right of the door.

“Hi!” Katelyn exclaimed.

“Hi,” I said.

I pulled open the door, and we went in. I ordered a green tea while Katelyn got a can of Coke from the cooler. I paid for both our drinks, waited while my tea was made, then we sat down at a small table in the corner, near the front windows.

“You were going to explain why you asked a man more than twice your age for their phone number,” I said lightly.

Katelyn smiled, “When you walked up, I just had this intense desire to get to know you. I can’t explain it, but it was like, ‘wow, this guy is handsome and in great shape and you really should talk to him’. Then when your fingers brushed my hand when you handed me the cash, I knew I had to say something. I thought that lady behind you had ruined it when she started bitching about you holding up the line.”

“I was holding up the line,” I replied with a smile.

“Yes, of course, but I felt you might just leave without giving me your card. I’m glad you didn’t do that.”

“And the fact that I’m more than twice your age?”

“Is that a problem for you? It’s not for me.”

“No, but teenage girls often think guys who are more than twenty years older are ‘creepy’.”

Katelyn laughed softly.

“You asking me for my number would probably have been creepy, even with the feeling I had. But I asked you.”

“Junior or Senior?” I asked.

“I just finished my Junior year last Friday.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Whitney Young. I’m in their AP Capstone program, so I’m earning college credit at Loyola while I’m in High School.”

“What’s your goal?”

“I haven’t decided for sure, but I’m thinking Graphic Design; I went to Whitney Young because they offered courses. I’m also in the concert band.”

“What do you play?”

“Sax.”

“Any other activities?”

“Soccer. What about you? What does,” she looked at my card, “NIKA Consulting do?”

“Computers,” I replied. “Software and consulting, mainly.”

“How’d you get to be president at thirty-seven?”

“Thirty-nine,” I corrected. “I did say ‘more than twenty years’. I founded the company with some friends right out of college.”

“How do you stay in shape?”

“I run most mornings and I’m a senior karate instructor. May I ask if you’ve considered the possibility that I’m married?”

“Are you married?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that kind of puts a different spin on things.”

“You didn’t notice the ring?”

“On your right hand, when you handed me the cash, sure, but I didn’t see your left hand.”

“I won’t be upset if you want to finish your Coke and leave,” I said in a friendly voice.

“I said it was a different spin,” Katelyn replied. “Not that I didn’t want to keep talking to you. Is that a problem for you?”

The question was, how much to reveal. At the moment, I was still cautious, given my run-ins with the Chicago cops, as well as the increasing social objection to age differences of more than a few years, even for girls in their twenties. While I certainly was moving into the ‘too old’ category for most teens, society was even beginning to object to girls in their twenties dating men in their thirties.

It wasn’t too common yet, but the use of ‘teen’ to refer to eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds with the implication they were still children, was taking hold, as I’d predicted to Bethany it would. And I saw disdainful references to college-age girls dating men in their mid-thirties, though that wasn’t pervasive just yet.

The other worrying trend I’d seen was the use of the term ‘underage’ to refer to any girl under the age of eighteen, even if the age of consent was sixteen, as it was in the majority of the US. It was even used in articles discussing Europe, where the age of consent was fourteen or fifteen in most places. The strong implication was that nobody under eighteen should be having sex, period, and in some articles, I’d seen that expressly stated.

That made me think about Bethany and how her views might have changed after her year in Sweden, and if it would do any good overall. Even if she moved closer to my position, she’d be one of the few voices speaking out against the ever-increasing prudishness and sanctimony of those who felt they could impose their views on everyone, and who viewed teenagers as no more than toddlers in larger bodies.

I dragged my mind back to the present and decided to give a non-committal answer that left things open.

“If it was a problem for me, I wouldn’t have given you my card.”

“Do you do this often?” Katelyn asked. “Give your card to random girls who ask?”

“The short answer is that this is the first time that’s happened.”

“And the long answer?”

“That my relationships are complex. I think the safest thing to say is that my wife would find this encounter amusing.”

“Amusing? Not be upset?”

“Not be upset.”

“You’ve done something like this before?”

“Met a girl and got to know her? Yes.”

“And then what?” Katelyn asked, her inflection and tone of voice giving the implied question of what might happen with her, not just what had happened in the past.

“That all depended on the circumstances and what the girl wanted, or in this case, what you want.”

“What do you think a girl who asks a random older guy for his phone number wants?”

“I do my best to avoid making assumptions,” I said.

“You had to have thought something!”

I smiled, “Probably the exact same thing you did.”

“I sense a ‘but’ there.”

“More ‘if, then’ than ‘but’,” I replied, “assuming my surmise about what we’re both thinking is correct.”

Katelyn laughed softly.

“You’re going to make me say it?”

“I find that’s usually the best approach,” I replied. “It runs far less risk of me saying something inappropriate or out of line.”

“Unlike High School guys who can’t help themselves!”

I chuckled, “And college guys. And guys my age. It comes with the Y chromosome and is usually described by my female friends as either being a ‘dumb boy’ or ‘testosterone poisoning’. I’ve learned to avoid doing that, usually by figuratively having my nose whacked with a rolled-up newspaper!”

“When your fingers touched my hand, I felt queasy, light-headed, and,” Katelyn lowered her voice to a whisper, “wet.”

And now the moment of truth, which, in the past, had almost always worked in my favor.

“Then, if you’ve had a recent STI test, we can discuss doing what we both obviously are interested in doing.”

“I had one when I went on the Pill in April, the day after my seventeenth birthday.”

And ‘Luckiest Dumb Boy’ status confirmed once again!

“Then the only impediment is time,” I said. “I have to teach karate tonight at 7:00pm, and I live down in Kenwood, not far from UofC. That’s where the dojo is as well.”

“You couldn’t skip?” she asked, her voice full of longing and desire.