The Queen’s Code

by Alison A Armstrong

  Karen squared her shoulders and replied, “With the exception of an occasional vacation, I'm all yours, Claudia.”

  MIKE read the text message with dread: “Call asap xoxo” seemed innocuous enough. But for the last few months, it had usually meant a demand to perform. He shook his head at his predicament. He'd never thought his scrumptious wife wanting sex would be a problem. Except, he reminded himself, it isn't sex she's after. It's sperm.

  But Karen had been ovulating last week, which meant she must be calling for another reason. He pressed CALL.

  “Hi Honey!”

  At her tone of voice, he immediately perked up. “What's up?”

  “My sessions with Claudia are starting again!”

  Shit howdy, he thought. “Really? What's behind that?”

  “It's exactly as you said it would be; Kimberlee has opened her heart.”

  Mike grinned. Now he understood the feeling in Karen's voice; few things meant more to her than her lessons with Claudia. This was the same enthusiasm that had uplifted his life last year. Maybe she can help with this pregnancy obsession and get her off my back. If anyone can make a difference, it's Claudia.

  “That's great, Darlin’. I'm excited for you. And for us.”

  KIMBERLEE traced the pattern in the dark wood while waiting anxiously for her grandmother. Granddad is a fine carver, she thought, admiring the roses that bordered the handmade table. Suddenly she noticed the detail in the mahogany under her finger. It wasn't a rose at all. It was a face.

  She looked more closely and it immediately registered: Grandmother smiling. And next to it: Grandmother laughing. In a flash, she realized that what she'd always assumed to be flowers were at least twenty different images of the same beloved face. And not only on the table. The arms of the chairs across from and next to her were carved with pictures of her grandmother, young and old.

  There were only two matching chairs, she thought, I don't remember a third. Curious, she was about to examine her own chair when the French doors opened. Kimberlee couldn't be sure, but she thought there was a new bounce in the elderly woman's step.

  Gingerly perched on one of the extraordinary chairs, this enigma Kimberlee had known — and not known — all her life, announced, “We are all set. We embark next Saturday afternoon.”

  II. The Journey Begins

  KIMBERLEE finally acknowledged her reluctance to call Melissa on Tuesday night. Normally, they spoke almost every day, if only to check in for a few minutes. She's my best friend. Of course I want to share this with her ….

  Gathering Lancelot on her lap for comfort, she dialed the phone. “Hey Kimmee, watcha been up to? I thought I'd hear from you yesterday.” She tensed as Melissa cut straight to it.

  “Um, well, I was tired last night.”

  She felt Melissa's discontent. “So — what happened with your grandmother? Were you disappointed? Did she luck out and get one of the few wonderful men?”

  Kimberlee felt a chill of dread crawl up her spine and was suddenly compelled to protect her grandmother. That's ridiculous, Kimberlee. Melissa's been there for you through thick and thin.

  “Actually, it turns out my grandmother's family has been studying men for over five hundred years. Go figure.”

  She heard the incredulity as Melissa's voice rose even higher than her usual soprano. “Why would anyone want to study men? And how slow do you have to be to take five hundred years?” She could imagine Melissa rolling her eyes as she added, “Everyone knows how shallow men are.”

  Kimberlee stiffened at the insult and Lancelot jumped off her lap. “Melissa, my grandmother is a very intelligent woman. And she got a degree in anthropology when few women even went to college. I think it's worth checking out. You might be surprised.”

  Melissa took the hint and backed down. Sometimes she speaks without thinking, Kimberlee told herself. She means well.

  “When do you start? And does she have the cure for Frog Farming?” Melissa asked in a casual tone. A sure-fire indication that she cares more than she wants to show, Kimberlee thought. See, she's with me. No worries.

  “She said it was true that she's not a Frog Farmer. And it has to do with having a different ‘point of view’ about men. If that's what makes a queen, I'll find out. Oh, and she said something about knowing how men think and being fluent in the language they speak.”

  Melissa guffawed, “Oh, I know their language. They speak Troglodyte.”

  Kimberlee winced again at Melissa's tone. When did she get this bitter? Well, all the more reason to help her.

  When Kimberlee didn't respond, Melissa started backpedaling again. “When did you say you're starting … what do you call them … ‘Man lessons’?”

  “My grandmother referred to them as ‘sessions’ and we start this Saturday.” Kimberlee didn't mention that mysterious phrase, ‘the queen's code.’

  She heard Melissa striving for that casual tone again. “Sounds like therapy. Well, anyway, keep me posted, okay?”

  “Sure. I've got month-end tomorrow, so I'll be off the radar for a couple of days. You know how exhausted I get. But after Saturday, I'll tell you everything. Same as always.”

  CLAUDIA wasn't certain who was more nervous: she or they. Kimberlee pulled the fuzz off her sweater; Karen stirred her coffee continuously. They'd already spent a half hour chitchatting. Nothing to do but get started, Claudia thought. Besides, we all have something to be anxious about ….

  “I thought we could begin with me explaining what I hope to accomplish in our sessions together. Then I will tell you what I think this will require from each of you. Lastly, I will gladly answer any questions you have about the process I envision.”

  Karen and Kimberlee looked at each other shyly. Remember, this is only the beginning, Claudia reminded herself. Forging a partnership between these two will take a great deal of time and effort — from all of us.

  “While the two of you have only met once before, you have something important in common: a strong desire to understand men. For you, Karen, there is your commitment to nurturing your partnership and union with Mike, especially as you create a family. You also used what you have already learned to improve your interactions with your students and their parents. And, you have expressed the intention to contribute this knowledge to others.”

  Claudia added, “Karen, will you be taking notes and translating them to lesson plans again?”

  Karen nodded and smiled. “Is that all right?”

  She appreciated Karen's sensitivity. Claudia's family had an oral tradition and she was not at ease with their knowledge being compiled in writing. The misuse of the information was very much a danger, and one that had shaped Claudia's plan for teaching both women. But her intuition told her that her ancestors would have approved of Karen's notes. There were signs that women might be open to a new relationship between the genders and Claudia was not likely to be here to provide it. Karen's studious note-taking and compulsive lesson- planning may be the only way to preserve more than five hundred years of research. And make it available when other women are ready for it.

  “Yes, Karen. It is all right. And important.”

  She turned to the younger woman and continued. “Kimberlee, you have a new awareness of being what you call ‘a Frog Farmer.’ That is, a woman who causes men to change from their best to their worst selves. You are determined to discover how you accomplish this — so that you can stop. You hope to become one of the one rare women who bring out the best in men.”

  Claudia paused for a sip of tea and to steady herself. She had not dared to imagine this moment before last Sunday.

  “In the lessons we had before, I often told Karen that there are things that seem one way but are not. In the coming weeks and months, I will reveal the mistakes in many of the assumptions women have about men. For example, women assume that men are selfish, untrustworthy, and motivated by foolish things. I will show you that they are usually the opposite.”

  Claudia keenly observed their rea
ctions as she spoke. Both women were absorbing what she said with some — but not insurmountable — resistance. For a moment she admired the contrast between the two: Karen's aristocratic nose, creamy caramel skin and almond-shaped golden-brown eyes; Kimberlee's Snow White contrast of dark hair and fair skin, brightened by her vividly blue eyes and softened by her freckled nose.

  How will these two beauties appear when they find out who they are to men? she mused. She knew a transformation on the inside would be obvious on the outside, because women cannot conceal their true selves.

  She continued, “We will be focusing on the main ways that women bring out the worst in men. And the simplest ways to bring out the best in them. For the worst, we will talk about how women antagonize the most primitive aspects of men. For the best, I will teach you the words that resonate with a man's spirit, heart and soul. These words work almost magically. They connect with the noble essence of men and are a call to action.”

  Kimberlee smirked, “You mean there're words that get men off the couch?”

  Claudia flinched. “Kimberlee, because you are committed to giving up Frog Farming, I am going to alert you to its presence. And that remark, though said ostensibly in jest, is indicative of an attitude women have about men — that they are lazy and should be doing something they are not.”

  Kimberlee blushed. “I'm sorry, Grandmother. I'll be more careful.”

  Claudia reached across the table and touched Kimberlee's hand. “It is okay, Sweetheart. Please do not suppress your comments. They reveal the work to be done. But can you entertain for a moment that the reason women have that attitude is because of ignorance? That they think men are unwilling to act only because they have never known the words that cause men to respond to their requests?”

  Kimberlee smiled ruefully, “It could be no worse than what I've got now, Grandmother.”

  Claudia sipped her tea and considered what she wanted to say. “Before we go any further, Kimberlee, these conversations are likely to be as uncomfortable as they are illuminating. Do you think it might be easier if you called me ‘Claudia’ — and began to think of me as a mentor or a resource — without all the baggage of my being your grandmother?”

  She saw surprise register in Kimberlee's eyes and then relief. “Yes, Grandmother — I mean Claudia — that would help a lot.”

  Claudia smiled, “Good. That will help me too. And I think it will make these sessions easier for Karen, without the constant reference to our familial relationship. You two are equally my students. Equally precious and important to me and the future I hope we shape together.” She smiled from one to the other.

  “Back to what we were talking about: bringing out the best in men. There are five words that connect directly to a man's highest existence. Together, they are called the Language of Heroes. Knowledge and use of them is part of the Queen's Code. These words resonate with a man's reason for being. Acting on these words fulfills his purpose as a man and brings a satisfaction to him that can be found nowhere else.”

  Karen blurted, “That sounds amazing.”

  Claudia nodded. “There is a catch: It is not the words alone. There is an attitude with which they must be said. For each word, there is a specific place a woman must be standing — in herself and in her relationship to life and to men — for the word to be used sincerely. And without sincerity — the feeling matching the words themselves — the words turn to dust in her mouth and lead in his ears.”

  Again she paused to observe her students. They both shifted uncomfortably. Good, she thought. They should be uncomfortable. Each word would require a dramatic transformation on their part.

  KAREN was reminded of the promises she'd made before, as Claudia explained what she required of them now. What had seemed the simplest — to be honest — had been the most difficult to carry out. Dishonesty had become a way of life with Mike. Not because she meant to lie or conceal but because she had become strategic in her interactions with him. She was constantly maneuvering to get what she needed — because she believed she had to.

  Could there honestly be five words that make all the difference? What if I never had to maneuver or manipulate again? What a relief that would be! But it's hard to believe it could be that simple! She chastised herself for her doubt, reminding herself that Claudia had never exaggerated a claim yet. If anything, she understates what can happen.

  Karen carefully noted Claudia's requirements:

  Mastering the Language of Heroes will require an attitude adjustment.

  Anger, self-righteousness, self-deprecation — they've all gotta go. (Oh shit!)

  There will be no progress without complete honesty.

  (As she wrote this, Karen remembered how Kim had squirmed on that one. I wonder if she's hiding something?)

  Confidentiality: These conversations are private amongst the three of us. We're not to teach what we learn to anyone else at this time. --I may share my own experience and realizations with Mike, but not Kim's comments, nor the specific information unless I clear it with Claudia first.

  Regret is a good teacher and can be healing. Self-recrimination will not be tolerated and must not be entertained. According to C: “You've done the best you could with what you had. Apologize if necessary and move on to what works.” (The don't-beat-yourself-up rule.)

  Karen thought about how many times Claudia's information had made her think, “If only I had known ….” Her regret had begun fueling her desire to save other women from the same fate. She tentatively raised a hand.

  “Yes, Karen?”

  Karen glanced at Kimberlee, “I don't know how much you've told Kimberlee about our work together. Are we going to cover that material again?”

  She waited as Claudia considered her question, the older woman pursing her lips as she usually did while figuring something out.

  “I've thought about this and I have an idea. There are some times when topics you and I touched on — such as Receiving and Single Focus — will need to be talked about in greater detail. It would be good practice for you, and deepen your own understanding, if you could teach Kimberlee the information you already have in those areas. It would be especially helpful if you gave examples from your own experience using that knowledge. What do you think?”

  Karen was surprised. She thought her ultimate goal of teaching Claudia's material was way off in the future. She didn't suppress her excitement, “Truly, Claudia? That would be amazing. It makes me nervous, you know, teaching your material. But what an honor.” She turned to Kimberlee, “But Kim, would you let me teach you? I know you signed up for Claudia and I don't want to take it for granted. And — is it okay to call you ‘Kim’?”

  Kimberlee considered her through those intense blue eyes. Piercing, really, Karen thought.

  After a hesitation, Kimberlee replied. “Yes, it's fine to call me ‘Kim.’ ‘Kimberlee’ is a mouthful. And of course I'm willing to learn from you. Before I asked Grandmother — Claudia, sorry — to teach me, I wished I could ask you instead.”

  “You wanted me to teach you? What would make you think of that?”

  Kimberlee shrugged off her embarrassment. “Because of the way Mike looks at you, of course. I figured you two ladies were friends because neither one of you Frog Farms … and, it seemed it'd be easier to talk to you about men because you're closer to my own age.”

  Karen flashed back to their introduction at Thanksgiving last year. Does Mike still look at me as if he's in love with me? Her chest clenched. I don't think so ….

  “I'm flattered, Kim, honestly. But I think it's only fair to tell you that Mike hasn't looked at me like that for a while. I must be Frog Farming again myself.”

  She groaned. “Oh, Claudia, I need this as much as Kim does. In the struggle to get pregnant, I'm afraid I've undone most of the good we did!”

  She felt Claudia pat her arm, as she had many times in the past. “It will be all right, dear. Getting pregnant will be an easy thing once you focus on what is important — your sex l
ife.” Claudia had the most compassionate, tender way about her. “We will get you and Mike sorted out in no time at all, sweet child.”

  The combination of Claudia's touch and tone instantly made Karen feel better. Even though it seemed that focusing on their sex life was the cause of their problems.

  Then Claudia gave them their assignment for their session on Wednesday night, after her yoga class. Although Karen didn't appreciate it at the time, it would be the key to unraveling the mystery of Frog Farming.

  Homework:

  1. Notice what I think about men-what pops into my head.

  2. Notice what is happening when I'm angry, affronted, frustrated, confused, hurt, disappointed or baffled by them. (Which is most of the time lately!)

  KIMBERLEE wrote down the assignment as best she could. Her mind was reeling from the list of requirements. She feigned a smile and numbly said goodbye to both women while gathering her things. She gave her grandfather a perfunctory hug and moved toward her car.

  This is going to be harder than I imagined. How am I going to keep those promises? Complete honesty? Please God, don't let Grandmother go digging up the past. Anything but that.

  She considered quitting right then and there. I'll call them later and say I changed my mind ….

  She remembered Karen's face, stricken as the older woman realized what she'd lost since Thanksgiving. If someone as together as Karen can't make it without all of this information, what chance do I have?

  She took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. I'll cross the honesty bridge if and when I come to it. My past probably has nothing to do with Frog Farming, anyhow. With this self-assurance, Kimberlee put her car in gear and headed towards the freeway.

  BURT came up behind her in the living room and wrapped his long arms around Claudia's small frame. He kissed the back of her neck. When that didn't extract the usual giggle, he grew suspicious.