Chapter 24: That’s What Friends Are for

November 6, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

“I could really get used to this!” Ellie said when we woke to the alarm on Saturday morning.

She snuggled close, but we had to get out of bed because I needed a shower and breakfast before I took her home, then drive to Circle to finish my computer project with Violet.

“Unfortunately, we need to get out of bed,” I replied.

“I know,” she sighed, moving away from me.

We got out of bed, went to the bathroom to shower, and after our showers, we went downstairs for breakfast. We ate quickly, then went out to my car for the drive to Loyola. Ellie gave me a quick kiss when we arrived outside her dorm, and once she was inside, I headed south towards University Village.

I met Violet at the computer lab, and we spent two hours putting what we felt were the finishing touches on our slot machine program. We’d spend the afternoon testing it and making sure it actually worked the way we wanted through a long period of playing.

“I’m going to miss seeing you on Saturdays,” Violet said. “And next semester, we won’t have any classes together.”

“No, but we’ll find a time to get together,” I replied. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend!”

“Me either!” Violet declared. “Well, I mean lose you, not me!”

“I was pretty sure that’s what you meant,” I replied with a smile.

“I did find we could get tickets to the Hawks game with the Rangers on the 8th of next month. That’s a Wednesday. Would it work for you?”

“Yes. That’s the day I take the Series 7 license exam, but that won’t be a problem.”

“OK. I’ll buy the tickets tomorrow.”

“Great!”

“We’re still on for dinner on the Sunday following Thanksgiving, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Violet smiled broadly, “I’m glad. It’s going to be fun!”

“I’ll call you when I leave Goshen on Sunday morning, and then if there are any delays along the way, I’ll call you.”

“Next semester, can we arrange to see each other, even if it’s just for pie after your class?”

“Sure. Let’s see what our schedules look like. I think we should go to the Registrar’s office today, now that I think about it. We’re here, and they close at 2:00pm, so we can make it if we eat quickly.”

Violet agreed, we ate, then headed to the Registrar’s office where I signed up for Math 105 and Violet signed up for her sociology and composition courses. That taken care of, we headed back to the computer lab and spent three hours playing our slot machine, finding a few small problems which we fixed, but by 4:00pm, we declared it ready to be turned in. We made five diskette copies, one master for each of us, a backup for each of us, and a copy to turn into the professor. That completed, I walked Violet home, received a nice hug and a kiss on the cheek, and once she was inside, I walked back to my car for the drive home.

“Jonathan,” Shelly said when I walked into the house, “We’re about to leave, but Marcia called for you. She asked that you call her back.”

“OK. Have fun!”

She and Bianca left the house, and I went to the kitchen to call Marcia.

“Hi,” she said. “I have some information about a plane crash that seems to be the right one, though there is a discrepancy.”

“What?” I asked.

“Here’s what my friend found out. Continental Airlines Flight 11 crashed on May 22, 1962, en route from Chicago to Kansas City, Missouri. All thirty-seven passengers and eight crew members died in the crash. There was nobody on the flight named Mark Knopf, but there was a male passenger named Marcus Brand of around the right age. I made a call and there was a Marcus Brand employed by Hallmark at that time, and his employment ended the same day as the crash.”

“So he gave my mom a fake name?” I asked.

“It would appear so, unless you think your mom gave you the wrong name.”

“I find that highly unlikely,” I replied. “How did the plane crash?”

“A man named Thomas G. Doty set off a bomb in the lavatory in an insurance fraud scheme.”

“Holy shit!” I gasped. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. He was in some kind of financial and legal trouble, bought life insurance, brought several sticks of dynamite on board the plane, and blew it up in the hopes his wife would collect the insurance.”

“Crazy.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “I want to think about it for a bit.”

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, just shocked that it appears someone blew up the plane my dad was flying on. At least that part of the story checks out. I still have the discrepancy between my aunt’s version and my mom’s version, and my birthday and my mom’s version. I’m not sure I want to upset my mom, because I’m sure it would.”

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

“No. I just got home from the computer lab and was going to get some dinner.”

“Want to have dinner together? I can come there, you can come here, or we could go out. Friends, of course.”

I laughed, “You don’t have to qualify it. After our talks, I won’t tease you about that in the future.”

“But about other stuff?”

“Of course!”

“Why don’t you come here,” Marcia suggested. “I’ll order Chinese. Shall we say food at 7:00pm and you can arrive anytime before then?”

“Sounds good. I need to make a phone call, then get a shower. I’ll see you in an hour, roughly.”

“Great!”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I flashed the switchhook, then dialed Lily’s number, hoping to catch her at home. Her mom answered, let me know Lily was home, then called Lily to the phone.

“Hi, Jonathan!” she gushed. “How are you?”

“Good.”

“I really enjoyed the Halloween Party! Sorry I had to leave before it ended.”

“You did that for your mom,” I replied. “I know she appreciates you going to church with her. What are you doing on Friday?”

“No plans yet, why?”

“Want to double with Jack and Kristy?”

“Sure!”

“And if you aren’t doing anything tomorrow afternoon, come to the house and you can join the gang. There’s no football, but we’re going to hang out.”

“I’ll be there around noon, if that’s OK.”

“It is, because we don’t have to worry about game time.”

“See you tomorrow, then! I need to get going.”

“Enjoy your date!”

Lily laughed, “Good guess! He’s nice enough for date number two, which is tonight. See you tomorrow.”

We said ‘goodbye’, I hung up, then went upstairs to take a shower. Twenty minutes later, I was in my car on the way to Marcia’s townhouse. It took me nearly ten minutes to find a parking spot, and I ended up having to walk seven blocks. Wherever I moved, I was going to absolutely make sure I had a parking spot. But that was still years in the future. Marcia greeted me and invited me in. She got me a glass of wine and we sat on the couch.

“Jamee has an overnight shift, so it’s just us,” Marcia said.

“And now that you have me alone, you’re going to work your feminine wiles on me!”

Marcia laughed, “For most guys, all it would take would be asking them to go to bed. For some reason, I don’t think that would work with you.”

“The only way to find out is to ask,” I said with a silly grin.

“Want to go to bed with me?” Marcia asked.

“Sure,” I replied. “Let’s go.”

“Wait! What?!” Marcia gasped.

“Gotcha!” I chuckled.

“You’re such a smart ass!” Marcia declared. “What if I was serious?”

“You weren’t.”

“And how do you know?”

“Based on our conversations,” I replied. “I don’t think you want another casual love affair. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so.”

“You’re not wrong,” Marcia replied. “Though it has been a while.”

“You have to meet plenty of guys in the course of your job,” I observed.

“You would think so, right?” Marcia said. “But the vast majority of people who call or come in for help are Senior Citizens and single moms. Sure, there are other people who get in touch, but I spend a lot of time helping people with Medicare, Social Security, and disability. The next largest group is people seeking help with Food Stamps, WIC, and AFDC. As I said — Senior Citizens and single moms.”

“What about people who work for other politicians, like Gary?”

“Most people who do what I do are actually female, and most of the government people I interact with are older, and a significant number of them are female.”

“Then have Nelson introduce you to a lawyer from his firm,” I suggested. “Or have Jeri introduce you to someone she knows.”

“I did,” Marcia replied. “But he’s way younger than I am!”

“I don’t consider myself ‘way younger’,” I replied.

“Except you are,” Marcia countered. “You’re at a stage in your life where you don’t want to settle down and are just having fun. I’m ready to marry. That’s a fairly huge gap in our stations in life, don’t you think?”

“From that perspective, yes.”

“Not to mention the whole ‘older woman/younger guy’ thing.”

“So, if I were ready to settle down, that would prevent you from having a relationship with me?”

“It would give me pause because it’s not the norm.”

“Who cares? Didn’t we have this conversation about allowing friends or society to control you? And didn’t your friend actually encourage you?”

“That doesn’t make it not a social stigma,” Marcia replied.

“Again, who cares? Being poor and on government assistance is a social stigma for some people, but would you advise them to ignore the help the government provides?”

“No, of course not! The people who think it’s stigmatizing are the problem.”

“Obviously,” I replied flatly.

Marcia smiled wryly, “You’ve made your point. And remember, I did overcome it.”

“I’m more concerned that you let it control your thinking in the first place. It’s one thing to not do something illegal; it’s another thing not to do something that’s good for you or would make you happy because somebody else disapproves.”

“You don’t care about what anyone else thinks?”

“Of course I do,” I countered. “I just don’t let it control me. Again, it’s one thing to account for how someone else might react, but a whole other thing to allow that potential reaction to control you. I know that might sound contradictory, but it’s a difference between ‘influencing’ and ‘controlling’. Think about it this way — people who write Congressman Washington influence him, but in the end, he decides what to do based on what he thinks is right.”

Marcia laughed, “Or what he thinks will get him re-elected.”

“But aren’t those often the same thing?” I asked. “I was taught in Civics that a member of the House of Representatives was exactly that — a representative for his district. That means he should express opinions that, by and large, match those of his constituents. Sure, sometimes he needs to convince them of a better way, but ultimately, he speaks on their behalf to men and women who represent other districts, in an attempt to form a consensus. Right?”

“That’s the theory, yes. It doesn’t always work out that way.”

“Sure it does,” I replied. “The House is Democrat and Reagan is a Republican. For him to sign a bill, it has to be a compromise both sides can live with, otherwise he’d veto it, and there aren’t enough Democrats in the House to override his veto. And the House has to negotiate with the Senate, too. Basically, nobody gets everything they want, and we come to a consensus, even on things that are fairly divisive. Now, if the House and Senate ever come to a point where people won’t negotiate, well, the system breaks down and you get the Civil War.”

“I swear you should be in college,” Marcia said. “I mean full-time. You’re super-smart and think clearly.”

I shook my head, “You have a bias towards college education. The world needs smart people in every field, whether it’s plumbing or farming or working for NASA. The social stigma of working with your hands is a serious problem. Why perpetuate it? I mean, isn’t the Democratic Party supposed to be for the working class? You know, the ones without the college degrees and high-paying white-collar jobs?”

“Did you just call me elitist?”

I shrugged, “I just pointed out that your bias against people without college degrees doesn’t seem to fit the philosophy of the Democratic Party. It sounds Republican.”

“Ouch!” Marcia exclaimed.

“You know me,” I replied. “I just call ‘em as I see ‘em.”

“I’m curious,” Marcia said. “Did your mom accept government assistance?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“She felt she had to do it herself. It’s all tied up in how her parents reacted to her pregnancy. It was tough, but she did it, and I seem to have turned out OK, and she has a good job, at a good salary, and a boyfriend.”

“You said she didn’t date while you were growing up.”

“Again, I think that’s tied up in her need to prove she could do it.”

“Is that what you would have done?”

I shrugged, “Ask me when I’m sixteen and pregnant in 1962. That said, I’m pretty sure WIC didn’t start until the late 60s, and I think that’s the same for Food Stamps.”

“It is. AFDC started during the Great Depression, under FDR, so she probably would have qualified. That said, I don’t know anything about Ohio’s program, and every state does their own thing, within some pretty broad guidelines. She also might have made enough to limit her benefits, but I honestly don’t know enough details about the AFDC program in the 60s and early 70s to say.”

“Even without those programs, we had a small house and a car, though it was a stretch to make ends meet every month.”

“She owned the house?”

“The bank did,” I chuckled. “But yes. When my grandparents kicked her out of the house, she lived with a friend, worked part time, and finished High School, then started working full time. Right before she graduated in 1964, she bought a used 1955 Dodge Coronet, which we had until I was about ten.

“After she started working full time, she managed to buy the small house we lived in. It had been built right after World War II, and had two bedrooms, a living room, and an eat-in kitchen. It’s actually smaller than your townhouse, in terms of space. But it worked. She started a garden, learned how to can, and when I was old enough, I’d hunt deer and rabbits to supplement.

“I also started mowing lawns and shoveling snow, and had my first real job at fifteen. I gave most of the money to my mom, but she insisted I put $5 a week into a savings account, and that’s what gave me my stake that allowed me to move to Chicago. The one time either of us asked for help, other than her friend allowing us to live with her, was when I called my mom’s brother and asked him to get me a job in Chicago. I’m going to guess your story is very different.”

“Yes,” Marcia replied. “Typical middle class Chicagoans. My dad is an electrical engineer and works for Illinois Bell, and my mom is a secretary in the Parks Department.”

“So our perspectives are very different. College degrees can be an advantage, and I know they’re required for things like engineering, law, or medicine, but there are plenty of jobs that don’t actually need a degree, even if they require one, which I think I said to you before.”

“You did.”

The buzzer sounded, which likely meant the food had arrived. Marcia answered the door and returned a minute later with a large brown paper bag.

“I ordered four small dishes we can share, egg rolls, hot and sour soup, and of course, rice.”

“Sounds great!”

We went to the dining room table where plates, bowls, and flatware had been set out. Marcia unpacked the food, then poured more wine for both of us. We sat down, served ourselves, and began eating.

“You like?” Marcia asked.

“Yes. Everything tastes great.”

“Me, too!” Marcia smirked.

I laughed, “I’m sure, but is that really where you want our friendship to go? Nothing more than casual lovers?”

“I’m tempted to ask you to stay the night.”

“And I’m tempted to agree, but is that really what you want? Or is it because you haven’t done it for some time?”

Marcia laughed softly.

“You can say ‘horny’ without offending me!” she said with a smile.

“Is that a good enough reason?” I asked.

Marcia rolled her eyes, “Why did I find the one guy who doesn’t think with his dick?”

“Who says?” I asked with a grin. “It’s a matter of not thinking only with my dick. I like sex as much as the next guy, but there are situations where it’s the wrong thing to do, even if I’m attracted to someone. For example, I won’t get involved with anyone at Spurgeon because of the associated risks.”

“But if you move up to a trading position, you can get away with murder, from what I hear.”

“Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should. I don’t like the way the women there are treated, and I won’t be part of it. I also will not cheat, and that seems to be SOP at Spurgeon. I’ve turned down girls in other situations where the risks outweighed the rewards.”

“I’m going to guess your opportunities are such that even turning down half the girls who are interested would still let you get laid regularly.”

“That’s not an inaccurate statement,” I replied. “And it’s a whole new experience for me compared to High School.”

“Kid in the candy store?”

I laughed, “You could say that.”

“So it’s easy for you to turn me down,” Marcia observed.

“I suppose you could see it that way, but that’s not it. Well, if there were fewer opportunities, it would certainly impact my decision, and might make me more inclined to do it, but I wouldn’t allow that to be the deciding factor.”

“You are WAY too logical for someone who is twenty.”

“If you think about it, it makes sense. Every single decision my mom made, and that we made together, had to be logical and practical. There was literally no room for feelings or emotions because survival was the only consideration. That, and my appreciation for the value of every penny, will help me do my job well.”

“Even if it messes up your personal life?”

“Messes up?” I asked.

“Your approach isn’t going to match many girls, if any.”

“Bev,” I replied.