Chapter 3: A Wedding and a Pair of Propositions

June 23, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

On Wednesday, I used both my breaks and part of my lunch to make phone calls to establish water, electricity, gas, and telephone service in my name effective July 1st. Illinois Bell was able to tell me what my new phone number would be, as there was no reasonable way to keep the same number because I was moving too far to do so free of charge. They would, they promised, put a recording on the line giving the new number. I also called the Chicago Tribune, The Economist, and The Wall Street Journal subscription numbers and changed my address effective July 1st.

The other thing I did on Wednesday, though after work, was pick up my suit at the dry cleaners. I only owned one, but I saw no point in buying a second one until I needed it for work. I’d also had the dry cleaner launder and press my white dress shirt, and I picked that up as well. The only thing I needed to do was have my dress shoes shined, and I’d do that on Friday at a place inside the Hancock Center.

Bianca and Shelly joined me on Wednesday evening, as they usually did, though they arrived in time for dinner, as I didn’t have class.

“Next week, my parents are taking me to dinner on Wednesday,” Bianca said.

“OK,” I replied. “After Friday, we’ll be living together!”

“And we’re looking forward to that!” Shelly exclaimed.

“About Fourth of July,” Bianca said, “you know I’ve invited two friends from High School and Shelly invited Julianne. Could we invite more?”

“I’ve invited my guy friends, plus Allyson, so maybe one or two more. The backyard isn’t all that big.”

“Who did you invite besides Allyson?”

“Stuart, Kelly, Tom, Maria, Dustin, Archie, Costas, Trevor, and the guy who filled my old role in the mailroom, Jack.”

“Tom will be back?”

“Yes. They leave for the Bahamas on Sunday morning and return the following Saturday evening.”

“Kristy isn’t back until after the party, right?” Bianca asked.

“The following week. Allyson told you about the party on the 17th, right?”

“Yes. What’s the plan for Saturday?”

“You have a car, so I think it’s easiest if you just come here, then we head to the church together.”

“What time should I be here?” Bianca asked.

“Noon would be good,” I replied. “That will let me get my laundry and shopping done.”

“Mind if I stay the night Saturday?”

“Not at all.”

We finished our meal, did the dishes together, then listened to music before having our usual threesome and falling asleep sweaty and satisfied.

June 26, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

On Saturday morning, Violet joined me for my errands, despite serious pressure from Doctor Lochner to not allow me to ‘undo all the progress’ they’d achieved. In my mind, seeing Violet every Saturday for errands was something Doctor Lochner couldn’t legitimately complain about, and if she did, it would basically prove my point that Doctor Lochner was acting abusively and at this point, doing more harm than good.

“What are you going to do?” I asked as we walked to Jewel.

“I’m not sure,” Violet said. “I need you, but Doctor Lochner said you’re a bad influence.”

“I think Doctor Lochner is the bad influence,” I replied. “Have I done a single thing to hurt you or upset you or make you uncomfortable?”

“Besides the first class and the gum?”

“OK, except for that.”

“No.”

“And we’ve gone to a baseball game and had a couple of meals together. Had you ever done anything like that before we met?”

“No.”

“And Doctor Lochner thought those were positive steps, right?”

“She did.”

“But then we played video games together and watched the Sox on TV, and you hugged me, and she suddenly decided I was a bad influence.”

“She thought it was risky.”

“Did you think it was risky?”

“No, of course not, or I wouldn’t have done it! You’re my friend! You wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

“I take it you said that to Doctor Lochner?”

“Yes, and she questioned my judgment.”

“And I question hers! She’s met me, we’ve spoken, and she was happy until we spent time together in my apartment.”

“She’s worried that ... well, you know.”

“May I ask a question that might be a bit uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Are you at all interested in that?” I asked, keeping my voice soft and gentle. “In any way?”

“No,” she said quietly. “The entire concept frightens me. You know what happened when you teased me that little bit that first evening in class.”

“Then Doctor Lochner’s concerns about me are completely unfounded. You know my situation with Bev and Huifen, and being friends with you is perfect for me. It is for you, too, right?”

“Yes. You’re the first friend I’ve had since I was little.”

“Then please do not let Doctor Lochner lock you in a cage of her making because of her unfounded, irrational fears.”

We finished my errands, and after taking my groceries and laundry to my apartment and putting them away, I walked Violet home, returning to my apartment just as Bianca arrived. She was carrying a dress in the same kind of plastic wrap that my suit was in from the dry cleaners, along with a pair of heels.

“Heels?” I asked. “I’ve never seen you in anything but sneakers!”

“Tennis shoes don’t go with a dress!” Bianca laughed. “And I figured with a semi-formal dress, heels were better than flats. And I’ve never seen you in a suit, either! And even with the heels, you’ll still be a few inches taller!”

“I do have one concern,” I said as I let us into the apartment.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know how to dance!”

“It’s really easy! Slow dances are just like making love, only standing up!”

“I think if I whip it out on the dance floor, I’ll be arrested!”

“Not literally, you goofball!” Bianca exclaimed mirthfully.

“Oh,” I replied with a grin.

“And for faster songs, you just move to the beat. It’s all about rhythm.”

“Not one of my strong points. I have trouble tapping my feet in time to the music.”

“It’s in my Latin blood!” Bianca declared. “But you’ll do fine.”

“I just don’t want to look like an idiot.”

“Too late!” Bianca teased.

“Hah-hah, very funny. Shall we have lunch?”

Bianca agreed, and I made sandwiches and soup.

“We should probably get dressed,” I said after we’d eaten and cleaned up. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“I took one before I had my hair done this morning. I don’t want to mess it up, so I’ll just dress.”

“OK.”

About twenty-five minutes later, we headed out to Bianca’s car, and she handed me the keys.

“I can’t drive in heels. You can drive stick, right?”

“Yes.”

I got into the driver’s side of her red Ford EXP, checked the controls and dash, then moved the gear selector to neutral, pushed in the clutch, started the engine, released the parking brake, and put the car into gear. I drove away smoothly and headed for Saint Ambrose Catholic Church on 47th Street.

“Have you been to a Catholic church before?” Bianca asked.

“Twice. Once when I was about nine, I was at a funeral for my mom’s best friend’s husband, who died in Vietnam. Several years later, I was at her wedding. I don’t remember ever being in a church other than those two times. Why?”

“I was just curious if you knew the etiquette.”

“Mom basically said I should behave as if it were a library — speak only when necessary and very quietly. And just follow along in the program.”

“Missal,” Bianca corrected.

“Did you do all the usual stuff?”

“You mean First Communion, Confirmation, and so on? I did.”

“Confession?”

“Yes, but not since I was about fifteen. I didn’t think it was any of the priest’s business. I think saying the «Confiteor» is sufficient, if I’m sorry for my sins.”

“What’s that?”

“A standard prayer. That’s the Latin name. It’s basically a public confession, without details. In my mind, that’s really all that’s necessary.”

“I have to ask...” I said.

Bianca laughed, “No, I do NOT have even the tiniest bit of remorse for having sex with you or with Shelly!”

“But you still go to church, right?”

“Occasionally, when I’m home, with my family. It keeps my parents happy. My dad will want me to have a huge Catholic wedding, and I probably will, but that won’t change anything, really.”

“What about the rules?”

“Well, if I marry a Catholic, that’s not a problem. If I marry a non-Catholic, we’ll just go along with whatever the priest asks, then do our own thing. It’s not like they can enforce it! I’ll probably have my kids baptized, but that’s about it except for going to church occasionally with my parents for Easter or Christmas. Well, assuming whoever I marry is cool with that. You could deal with that much, right?”

“Except for the promises that would be extracted. For me, if I give my word, I have to keep it. I totally get you fudging things, and that’s cool by me, but it’s not something I could do.”

“You feel that keeping your word is the most important virtue,” Bianca said firmly.

“If you can’t be trusted to keep your word, can you really be trusted?”

“Aren’t there exceptions?”

“I’m sure there are,” I replied, “but those would have to be very special circumstances where you were forced to choose between two bad options. If keeping my word meant someone would die, then I’d probably choose not to keep it. And if I was presented with that kind of dilemma, I’d want to talk to the person to whom I gave my word first, if at all possible.”

“So, if you asked someone to marry you, that would be it? You’d never change your mind? Or if you married, get divorced?”

“I’m sure you could come up with a scenario where I would do those things, but I’m certainly not planning on it in advance! It would take some kind of serious, almost catastrophic event, for me to go back on my word in those cases.”

“Honor and duty over everything?” Bianca inquired.

“I think a better way to put it is ‘ethical behavior’. No moral judgments and no external authority.”

“Then how do you know what is right and what is wrong?”

“While I don’t believe Christian preachers have any authority, the main tenet for how to behave is supposed to be ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you’, isn’t it?”

“Also ‘love your neighbor as yourself’.”

“Those seem like pretty good precepts; it’s too bad most Christians don’t follow them, at least as I see it. I heard a quote attributed to Mahatma Gandhi that I think sums it up pretty well — ‘I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ’.”

“Why quote Jesus if you don’t believe in Him?” Bianca asked.

“I’m willing to accept that there was a rebellious, rabble-rousing, dissident named Jesus, or whatever the actual pronunciation would have been in his language. I also accept that he said some of the things he’s reported to have said, especially when his followers do not conform to what he said!”

“An interesting approach.”

“It certainly prevents me from being confused by concepts of ‘sin’ that simply make no sense to me. I mean, the Church would burn you at the stake, or whatever, for having sex with Shelly.”

Bianca laughed, “They don’t burn people at the stake anymore!”

“OK, instead they threaten you with being burned for eternity in Hell. Same difference, from their perspective. Heck, burning at the stake seems like mild punishment to being tortured for eternity! And it’s no more effective in keeping people in line than passing laws against crimes.”

“You don’t think we should have laws against murder or robbery or whatever?”

“I didn’t say that. I said effective at preventing those things. Murder has been punished since the first laws were made, and even the threat of the death penalty hasn’t stopped it. But the rules the churches make have been effective at getting people to hand over money, which seems to be the main purpose of many church ‘leaders’.”

“That’s pretty cynical.”

“Tell me I’m wrong. I mean, look at the opulent churches paid for by donations from poor people. That seems the opposite of caring for the poor.”

“I can’t argue with you about that.”

We arrived at the church and found a parking spot, then went inside. Bianca dipped her hand in a basin of water and crossed herself, then we moved to a pew about halfway to the front on the left side. Bianca went down to one knee before moving into the pew.

“What do I do?” I asked quietly.

“Just follow along with what everyone else does. Stand, sit, or kneel with everyone. If you don’t want to kneel, you can sit. Nobody will be bothered by that, as most non-Catholics don’t kneel at weddings.”

“What was that one-knee kneel before we sat down?”

“Genuflection. It’s out of reverence to the Blessed Sacrament, which is in the tabernacle.”

“The wafers?” I asked.

“Yes, but no. I can explain later.”

We sat quietly for another twenty minutes before the wedding began with the organist playing, and a procession, which finished with Maria’s dad, walking her up the aisle to where Tom was waiting with his groomsmen. I did as Bianca had instructed, and stood or sat when the rest of the attendees did, though I didn’t say any of the responses, nor sing along, as I didn’t know any of the songs, nor did I have a good singing voice. When the ceremony ended, we waited for Tom, Maria, and their attendants to process out, along with the priest and his helpers, and then we left the church.

“Want to get coffee?” I asked. “The reception doesn’t begin for almost two hours.”

“That sounds good,” Bianca agreed.

We walked a short distance to a coffee shop, and we were seated in a booth. Several other couples and groups from the church were there as well.

“How could your answer be both ‘yes’ and ‘no’?” I asked.

“This is Catholic teaching, OK? Not something you have to believe. The wafer, as you call it, is transformed into the Body of Christ and the water and wine into the Blood of Christ, which we partake at Communion.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“Shocking,” Bianca replied with a wry smile. “It’s called ‘transubstantiation’ and it means that it looks, feels, and tastes like the wafer, but it’s really, truly the Body of Christ.”

“And you believe that?”

“It’s the official teaching, so I’m supposed to. I personally think it’s symbolic, but that’s at odds with what the Catholic Church says.”

“I could see it being symbolic, but the official teaching sounds like magic to me.”

Bianca smirked, “Do you know the phrase hocus pocus?”

“Sure. What magicians say when they pull a rabbit out of a hat, or whatever. And the name of the rabbit in Frosty the Snowman!”

“Yes. Do you know where it comes from?”

“No clue.”

“Most likely it’s a corruption of «hoc est corpus», which are some of the words used by the priest to effect the change from bread, water, and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ. Magicians were making fun of priests. In fact, magicians’ capes are likely imitations of a priest’s garment. I went to a Greek Orthodox service once and their priests wear capes and push them up over their shoulders at certain points.”

I laughed, “Nothing up my sleeve!”

“Exactly!”

We drank coffee and talked for about an hour, then walked back to Bianca’s car for the drive to the reception hall, which was in Bridgeport. When we arrived, we found our assigned seats, which were with Stuart, Kelly, Dustin, and Archie, though Dustin was the photographer, so he was still with Tom and Maria. There was an open bar, and to my surprise, they served us without any questions. Stuart later told me that the bartender was a fireman, which explained why.

Tom and Maria arrived, dinner was served, the cake was cut, and Tom and Maria had their first dance. Once that finished, Maria danced with her dad, and then the dance floor was open. I followed Bianca’s lead and felt I didn’t make a complete fool of myself during the faster songs, and the slow dances were much simpler. I danced with Teresa a few times, after checking with Bianca that it was OK, and once Tom and Maria left, Bianca and I headed back to my apartment.

“Can we do something different tonight?” Bianca asked once we’d changed into comfortable clothes.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Slow, passionate lovemaking, as many times as you can.”

“Yes, we can do that. Is there a reason?”

“A change of pace. When Shelly is here, we play and get a little crazy. When Shelly and I are together, it’s more soft and loving. So, I want that with you. The Summer’s going to be intense!”

“I will need to get some sleep!” I chuckled. “But yes, it will!”

“Before I forget, Teri and Cheryl, my friends from High School, are going to sack out at the house after the party on the Fourth.”

“It’s equally your guys’ place, so that’s fine with me. Did you invite another person?”

“My cousin Esmeralda, though she doesn’t have permission from her parents just yet. She’s seventeen. I hope that’s OK.”

“It is. The only problem would be with beer, which Tom and Stewart are bringing. But technically, even I can’t drink. Just make sure none of your friends gets wasted.”

“None of them is that way,” Bianca said. “I don’t think any of them like beer.”

“Well, we’ll have plenty of pop, so that’s not a problem. We’ll go shopping on Saturday after my uncle helps me move my things.”

“We should split the cost three ways.”

“I won’t object.”

“Bed?”

“I won’t object to that, either!”

June 29, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

Sophie had called on Monday evening and asked if it was OK to come by on Tuesday, and we agreed on 8:30pm, which would give me time for my usual Tuesday coffee with Anala. Had push come to shove, I’d actually have put Sophie off so that I could see Anala, because my conversations with Anala were extremely valuable.