by Tom Corbett
“At Smith, in premed? Yeah, you could say I worked hard. I can say one thing—there were never any all-night bull sessions, just cram sessions, at least among my crowd.”
“Too bad, the continuous bull sessions were like an ongoing tutorial in current events and a proxy-type preparation for becoming a policy wonk. Even the courses, some of them, kept setting off small epiphanies in my head. It was never like we were being programmed or subject to propaganda of any kind. Still, you kept hearing facts and interpretations that challenged your consensus script about life. It was often merely learning what we did around the world that was less than kosher. No one had to come out and say that ‘we are assholes.’ You could connect the dots if you wanted though not everyone wanted to. I recall one professor asking from time to time what causes some effect. When we paused, as was often the case as we frantically tried not to look stupid, he would throw out ‘did God cause it?’ It was the casual way he did this that was effective. It was offered as a clearly absurd response, but no one ever challenged his cynicism about religious matters. For a young man in his last days as a Catholic devotee, nothing could be more effective. I walked around with my brain exploding as if it was beset by some mental storm. At night, I sometimes just let my thoughts wander in internal dialogues as I sorted things out. I often thought these personal discussions brilliant and would tell myself to write everything down upon arising the next morning. When that failed, I brought a tape recorder to bed and tried whispering thoughts, but it all sounded like gibberish the next day.”
“So, no different than your so-called academic papers.” She really was enjoying herself. This whole visit was taking her by surprise. This was so comfortable, seemingly so familiar. Then she caught herself. Don’t become overly optimistic, a small voice in her head cautioned. Still, she had not felt this connection in such a long time.
“I am ignoring your pathetic attempts at wit, in case you have not noticed. Remember, I’m the master of the deft insult, you a mere student. So, to continue as if you had not been so rude, things eventually became more defined. My little group formed. It started with Mo, Jimmie, and Pete from the old world. Then additional students gravitated toward us like Carla and Helen and Bob, and Kit for a bit. There were others of course. The war was escalating as was the desperation of the students on the Left who faced a year or two fighting in the jungle. We thought we could change the world. We really believed that we were a vanguard to the future. We were the smart ones, the enlightened ones. When we matured into adulthood and took power, we would run things differently. It was only a matter of time. Let’s just say that particular theory was an idea ahead of its time.”
Rachel now chuckled aloud. “I am sorry. You remember, I did visit you on a few weekends, a high school kid, was I in high school yet, trying to feel what college was like. I hate to admit this, but I was impressed by your group and, this I totally regret, by you. In a conventional sense, I was smarter than you. I was certainly more disciplined and worked harder. You did not set that bar very high.”
“No shit, Sherlock, I cannot argue with that one,” he murmured.
“Still, I recall you guys talking among yourself, touching on ideas and issues beyond my world. Sure, I was beginning high school but still damned advanced. Yet, I felt intimidated, like an idiot. I knew that your group was special, particularly Morris, Carla, Bob, Peter, and you. The conversation and ideas would just sparkle, you often finished each other’s sentences. Later, at Smith, I met smart kids. Not just smart but whip-smart kids. But you guys were clever in a different way, always seeking those deeper meanings. You did see connections among things, you’re right about that. I found my tiny glimpses into your world quite special before it slammed shut. The Smith girls around me were ambitious, driven, most hardworking, but they lacked something. They cared for very little beyond their own world. Perhaps I’m being unfair and, of course, I hung with the science nerds. Maybe if I had walked over and talked to the kids who dressed like hippies.” The words were strong, but her expression was soft.
Josh mused on her words. “You know, in retrospect, I could see there was a downside to my world back then. It was a continuous high for sure. But it all took place in a bubble. Something you said reminded me of something I missed at the time. We could finish each other’s sentences. After a while, we did not spend enough time with people outside our circle, too easy to slip into groupthink. You need to keep reaching out to contrary opinion, that is vital. But I wasn’t wise enough to see that then. I obsessed on what fit into my new world view, perhaps that new framework wasn’t strong enough to face much contrary evidence.”
Rachel looked at him without a smile. “We were kids. Well, you were a kid. I think I went from twelve years of age to thirty-two. I missed my teens and wild youth. I spent all my time, after you left at least, parenting our parents and at the same time trying to impress them so they might get over the perpetual mourning that was going on. God, it was like a wake that never stopped.” He started to say something, but she raised her hand. “When I was at my seven sisters school, I would think about what I saw of your college experience and wonder if I was missing out. But you know, I was a kid from a working-class family surrounded by the elite. I assumed I was always behind and had to work my ass off to just stay even. It just seemed a continuous grind of class, lab, library, study groups, and class again. In the end, I realized we were not the same intellectually. We were attracted to different things, neither approach was necessarily better.”
“No guys, no fun?” he snuck in.
She paused. “I need another drink.”
“Okay,” he said, getting up, “but I am not holding your head over the toilet bowl again.”
“That happened only once, when I was just a kid.”
“Yeah, but it was disgusting, and I had to change your clothes.” He grimaced.
“Which caused me no end of shame.”
“Shame?”
She grimaced. “Yeah, you saw me naked.”
“You were a scrawny young teen at the time. And remember, I had seen real women, the music teacher and our neighbor and—”
“Again,” she inserted with feigned disgust, “way too much information. Wait, which neighbor? Never mind! Hah, do you have any idea how bad they were?”
“Who?” Josh asked, surprised at the sharp transition. “Are you talking about the extra-friendly neighbor lady?”
Rachel went on. “No, silly, the gals in my dorm. They badgered me to date some guys they knew or to go to some horrible frat party at a nearby college. They told me to relax, that guys would just love me. Anyways, I tried, a little at least. Mostly, it was awful. There was the guy who started reaching for my crotch the moment we were alone. I punched him in the nose. And there was the guy who could not stop talking about himself. When I tried to insert something about myself into his monologue, he looked at me like I was irritating him. I got up and walked out of the restaurant. There was the sports freak who kept watching the game while I tried to engage him in conversation, and the one who flirted outrageously with other girls at the party he took me to. I could go on, but you get the picture.”
“Hey, these guys sound like winners to me. You just described all my favorite moves.”
“Well, now I see why you need to pay for professional service providers, as you call them,” she said the next three words slowly. “I gave up. Maybe I didn’t really try. I went through the motions because I thought it was the thing to do…if you were an attractive gal in college. Then at some point, I said, what is the point of all this crap?”
“Searching for love is crap? I am shocked.” Josh added.
“What? Do not even try to pretend to be a romantic,” she said with a generous amount of incredulity. “The man who never has had a conventional relationship with a woman is lecturing me on love. Really!”
“Point taken, But I’m not made of total stone. I did have my moments.” He paused as if he were deciding something. “Let me tell you abou
t Sarah. It was not love, but it came close, at least for me. We met my first year there, I think it was early in the second semester. I studied quite hard at first, wanted to make sure I would keep my scholarship. Back then, probably like you, I had my share of insecurity. When you come from an Irish ghetto, you wonder if you can compete in the real world with kids who had all the advantages. Then, of course, I looked at my first-semester grades and they were good, great even. Bad lesson for someone like me. I immediately relaxed, fell into my old habits.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Rachel observed. “They did not throw your ass out of school.”
“Hah, hah! Anyways, one day I’m sitting in class and this attractive gal was seated next to me. I noticed her but, you know, it was clear she was very intelligent, way too smart to put up with a putz like me. It did not help that she was not flirtatious in any way, very focused on the class. She was friendly enough but did not invite you in as a lot of women did. Don’t laugh but I always was shy and, by now, no longer the school jock. It never occurred to me to speak to her. Frankly, I could never figure out why women might be interested in me.”
“Neither could anyone else,” Rachel slipped in.
“Anyways, asshole, one day I raised my hand and made a comment on some class topic now long forgotten. She turned to me and whispered that what I said was brilliant and that she thought I had been sleeping through the class. It was a common mistake that a lot of people made, including my professors.”
“How could that have happened?” Rachel chuckled. “I am shocked, just shocked.”
“For me the ice was broken. We started talking after class, which turned into coffee in the union, which in turn became a long walk and that was that. She was open with me about being in a committed relationship with her high school boyfriend who was going to the University of Pennsylvania as I recall. No problem with me, I thought at the time. But what fascinated me was her background and her smarts. Her parents had been caught up in the Nazi holocaust. They had escaped to Vichy France that kept them safe for a while. But the killing of Jews started. Though the French dragged their feet on cooperating in the slaughter, things still looked bad. Her dad managed to bribe officials to get her mom and older sister out, Sarah was in her mom’s womb at the time. Unfortunately, her father did not make it. He had stayed back to get some other family members out. It was one good act too many. That story got to me. Maybe it struck me as familiar to our folks, danger and intrigue and trying to keep their heads above water. The causes and circumstances were different, but I could feel some similarities. I always thought there was this connection between Irish Catholics and Jews.”
“Yeah,” Rachel suggested. “I can understand that.”
“She also seemed to respond to my story. She was fascinated by tidbits about Mom’s mysterious past, the possible gunrunning, the glamorous way I described their early relationship. And maybe I made things just a little more exciting than they were, or at least than what we actually knew about things.”
“What you’re saying is that you lied.”
“No, I embellished stuff. You know, I am Irish, a natural storyteller. I could’ve convinced her that Dad was Whitey Bulger’s right-hand man if I wanted. But the other thing was that she was so smart. I could tell that from our first conversation. She was a lot like you, not physically of course, but personality wise.”
“No wonder you liked her.”
“On the other hand, unlike you, she was really nice…not some obnoxious little shit. She listened to me and pretended to care.” Josh was smiling, loving this banter that he had missed for so long.
“Oh,” Rachel chuckled, “I’m quite sure she pretended a lot of things.”
“There was that, for sure. Yes, I did have these wonderful older women, but girls my age were uptight. Some put out, but it seemed forced at best. Could never shake this impression that they felt compelled to do it, not something they always enjoyed. Well, you know as well as I we all develop scripts based on early experiences. They become ingrained and very hard to erase after a while. My impression was that girls my age just didn’t like sex all that much, if at all. They would do it, or at least let you get to the various bases, because it was expected or necessary to bargain for what they really wanted. I sometimes wondered why they put up with us at all. Whenever I was about to make a move, I would become paralyzed. I kept thinking the girl was sitting there going ‘oh no, he is going to make a move’ and hoping against hope that I would not. Sometimes I would and sometimes I would not, never quite sure how I decided which way to go. But the whole thing always made me guilty. I did not want to be just another horny guy. I did not want to be someone they had to deal with, handle. I wanted to be different.”
“And it never occurred to you that the girl might also have needs.”
“Nope, that seemed beyond the pale,” he said without hesitation.
“Wow,” Rachel expressed incredulity. “You really were damaged goods.
But from what I saw, you came across as confident.”
“Just a good actor.” He laughed. “But this is where Sarah seemed so different. When I first kissed her, she responded. It was not the going- through-the-motions response either. It struck me as real and spontaneous. She enjoyed physical intimacy. I was shocked. I never felt guilty with her. She always seemed genuine during sex, I never wondered whether she was faking it. I suppose, though, you never do know.”
“I think I know this girl. She wouldn’t fake anything.” Rachel observed.
“Hmm, perhaps you’re right. In any case, she would continue to tremor periodically for a time. It was like aftershocks. What a release, for both of us. I will forever be grateful. And we did so much together. We would go to Tanglewood for the concerts, museums, lectures, and talk about ideas for hours on end. But it was not the political stuff. I had others for that, and Sarah was not that interested though she participated in the antiwar rallies. Wait, she really was interested, just not obsessed like I had become. She became my companion. I don’t know what she told her boyfriend or how she explained me to her girlfriends. Now that I think on it, we were rather circumspect, but people knew. I stayed out of the way when he visited, and everything would return to normal after he left. It was perfect.”
“A relationship without commitment, it does sound sublime. I am shocked they didn’t make a Hallmark special about it.”
Josh wagged a finger at her. “Now, don’t knock emotionless relationships, they are the best kind. But you, are you trying to tell me that you never had any feelings for a boy during those years, ever?”
“Well,” she paused for a long time. “There was a guy. We met in my junior year of college, he went to a nearby school. He was smart, and nice, and seemed sensitive. And the poor schmuck was so shy. It was clear he was interested in me, but it took him several weeks to make his move. He kept showing up but doing nothing.”
“Only several weeks? Wow, he moved fast.”
“Whatever. When he asked me to a lecture, my immediate reaction was to say no. But he looked so uncertain and nervous I couldn’t turn him away. He would have been crushed.”
“Wait,” Josh asked, “exactly what kind of expression did he have? I’ve always wanted to perfect the pity sex look.”
“As I was saying,” she said loudly to communicate her annoyance, “I reluctantly agreed to a date. Then, I had a good time. We continued to see each other, nothing heavy but nice. I even met his family, which bothered me a bit though they seemed thrilled to meet me. I did think it odd when I took the initiative regarding sex. After a while, I thought he would never get to it, that he was too shy. To make a long story short, we were alone one night in his room. I just started taking my clothes off. For a moment, I thought he might faint. Was he a virgin? Were there any of those left?”
When she paused, Josh blurted out impatiently, “And? Surely you’re not stopping there.”
“Of course not, and please don’t call me Shirley.” She chuckled at her own jok
e. “Okay, that last part I added on just now.”
“Yup, too much wine.” Josh reached to take her glass, but she kept it from him.
“Well, let me just say that the earth didn’t move during sex. In fact, I did all the work. The whole thing seemed rather strange to me, but he seemed happy. And like you, it was all convenient. It took all the pressure off about not dating and reduced the possibility of lesbian flirtations.”
“Why do I sense that the denouement is upon us?”
“Ah yes,” she said, throwing her head back. “One day I stopped by his place unexpectedly and found him in bed with…another boy. He looked much happier than he ever looked with me.”
“I can see that, makes total sense to me.” Josh said, trying to stifle a giggle. “Talk about awkward. What did you do?”
“Well, I didn’t propose marriage. I walked out. It was no big thing. At least I knew what was going on. He tried his best to explain, but what was there to explain? He was gay, and this was at a time when being such was not all that cool. Same as Usha though I can see it in her case. Traditional Indian families are tough. And that was it for the boyfriend experience.” Rachel had not finished her second glass of wine but did get up to top off her glass. “We are two sick puppies. Why am I thinking of the song about ‘looking for love in all the wrong places?’”
“Well, there might be a second career for both of us as country songwriters. But don’t forget, Sarah and I were getting along fine.”
