The Queen’s Code

by Alison A Armstrong

  “Isn't there an alternative? Where you can contribute without being accountable?” Burt asked, anxious for a solution.

  Claudia brightened. “There is an alternative!”

  “What?”

  “I need to switch modes, so-to-speak. From providing to supporting and enhancing.” She paused. “I need to let Karen and Kimberlee be accountable for their education. And their transformation.”

  She smiled in contemplation and finally, took a very deep breath. As she exhaled, Burt saw the weight lift from her shoulders. Then Claudia did something she hadn't done in a long time. She crawled over to his end of the couch and snuggled into his lap, arms around his neck. Her eyes twinkling bright, she kissed him warmly on the cheek and said, “Once again, you are my hero.”

  Burt felt his chest swell. He wrapped his long arms around her, with great affection and without fear.

  KAREN, famished, ate her entire sandwich before getting to work on her notes. As lessons went, this one wasn't the worst. But it had still rocked her world. Like most women, Karen prided herself on self-sufficiency and guarded her independence. It was painfully clear how much that prevented her from being in partnership with Mike. It consistently stopped her from letting him help her and thereby protect his own life and energy.

  Some partner I've been, she thought. My not letting him help until it's an emergency is not doing him a favor.

  She reviewed her notes and decided there were at least two flip charts to make. The first was about “Listening to Learn.” Wish I'd known that twenty years ago. Mike has always had strong opinions. Come to think of it, even the young boys in my class do.

  Values are an expression of ourselves.

  Values + Trusted Information = Opinions

  Opinions are an expression of who men are.

  Listening Agree/Disagree creates a false sense of connectedness or distance that men don't care about.

  Men reveal themselves in their opinions.

  Listening to Learn allows us to discover who they are.

  Listen with the question: “What matters to him/her?” or “What's important to him/her?” or “What is he/she showing me about himself/herself?”

  Listening to Learn creates understanding and intimacy.

  The second flip chart had to do with the Hero Language words of “Help” and “Save.” Since one was a version of the other, it seemed best to combine them.

  HELP is a word that interrupts Single Focus.

  A man will come running, sword drawn.

  It's not shameful to need help.

  It means you're in over your head, which happens when you have goals and projects.

  Men are often honored to help someone they admire.

  “Helpless” means everyday life overwhelms you. Not good. Men will respond but rarely commit. They dread the loss of energy.

  A sincere “Will you help me?” will get the response: “Yes, what?” or “Yes, how?” or “Yes, when?”

  SAVING is HELP in an emergency.

  If it could have been prevented or anticipated, the SAVING will come with a lecture.

  It takes a lot more energy to SAVE than HELP.

  Karen felt that captured the essence of those two words. She was determined to remember the distinction and try to anticipate a need for help from Mike. He had proved he was always willing, but if his help could be planned for and scheduled, like last week's meals, he was a lot happier about it.

  Reviewing her notes to create the flip charts, Karen noticed how many times Burt had used the word “problem.” And that he talked about enjoying solving problems. Could ‘problem’ be another Hero word? I'll have to ask Claudia.

  Finished with her summaries, Karen turned to the assignments.

  Homework:

  1. Use the word “Help” sincerely in asking men (and boys) for something that you need and either could not provide yourself or your life would be better if they helped you with it.

  2. Thank them, again using the word “Help.”

  3. Pay attention to all the things that men do that save me from something, be it danger or drudgery.

  4. Acknowledge them, sincerely using the “Save” word.

  As she finished, Karen noticed how this ritual calmed her down and prepared her for being with Mike. Each week, there had been something momentous to talk to him about. Today, she needed to apologize and thank him. Anticipating both felt surprisingly good.

  KIMBERLEE woke up groggy, momentarily confused by the strange surroundings. When she recognized where she was, she stretched her hand to the other side of the enormous bed. It was empty. By the angle of the sun streaming through the window above her head, she must have slept quite late.

  She sat up and took in the details of Jack's bedroom. I was too busy last night, she thought with a smile. The dark furniture contrasted nicely with the subtle green walls and elegant, but not ornate, crown molding. The simplified version of a traditional combination made a nice backdrop for a surprising collection of modern art. Eclectic, she mused. I like it.

  Satisfied with her assessment, she snuggled back under the covers and contemplated last night. And early this morning, she thought, reminding herself of the continuous exploration of each other's enjoyment. From the moment he had unbuttoned her blouse, kissing her collarbone from end to end, she was in ecstasy.

  Gone were the feelings of shame and fear and self-consciousness. When have I laughed during sex? Never before.

  Jack had been a skillful, considerate, and communicative partner. Their discussions beforehand made all the awkwardness of first-time intimacy disappear. In its place were warmth and safety, play and pleasure.

  Kimberlee came out of her delicious reverie to find Jack standing in the doorway, watching her contentedly, breakfast tray in hand. Walking towards her, he smiled and said, “Good morning, Beautiful.”

  Surprised, she realized that she felt beautiful. Thanks to him. And more resolved than ever to live by the Queen's Code.

  MELISSA was afraid and angry. A week had passed since she had been left on her front porch, shouting at Kimberlee's retreating form.

  In a friendship that spanned more than two decades, they'd had their share of disagreements. Even jealous spats when as teens they'd fallen for the same guy. But never anything as terrible as this.

  Now she sat in front of her computer, an email from Kimberlee unopened. It had no subject. Would it be an apology? Another accusation? Steeling herself, she clicked on the message.

  Dearest Melissa,

  Your friendship has meant the world to me. We've been through everything together. No one has been closer to me than you.

  As you have noted, my values have recently changed and I'm going in a different direction. Away from anger, blame and bitterness. Away from frustration, confusion and strategy. Toward partnership and understanding.

  we part ways now? I keep hoping you'll come with me. I keep hoping you'll find the courage to look at yourself and men in a new way. I keep hoping you'll be willing to have been wrong about Scott; to have been wrong about all men. They are much more everything than we ever knew. Is there any chance you'll consider another way of relating to men?

  If and when, I will be here. Until then …

  Love always,

  Kimberlee

  Melissa read and reread the email. She's breaking up with me, she thought, furious. Damn those man lessons. Damn her grandmother. Damn Scott. Damn them all.

  Even though it was only midafternoon, Melissa made herself a gin and tonic and gave in to despair.

  MIKE was enjoying the new rhythm developing between them. Ordinarily, Karen would be in a vegetative state for the first few days of the school break. Then she would emerge and attack home improvement projects like a banshee and attempt to accomplish them all on her own. He'd have to watch her struggle, rejecting assistance until even she admitted she couldn't reach something or couldn't lift something or couldn't manage the power tool she was determined to use.

  This time it
only took one day for her to have vacation ambitions. She attributed it to him being the “Food Hero” the week before. He thought the word hero was a bit overblown, but that didn't prevent him from liking it.

  Sunday morning she arose early and asked him over breakfast, “Is there a time today when you could help me with something?” He still remembered how she giggled when he said, “Yes, what?”

  Since then, every morning she'd asked for time to help her when it worked in his schedule. It was reassuring. He no longer worried that he'd get a panicked call in the middle of the day. And he looked forward to the time he set aside to help her.

  It also gave Mike a chance to watch for signs. She seemed to be completely oblivious. He was impressed that when she said she would focus on sex instead of getting pregnant, that she meant it. And undoubtedly their sex life had been reborn, better than ever before.

  Karen had probably forgotten that he'd put her ovulation and projected periods on his work calendar. It had been self-defense: he had to keep track of when he'd likely get texted to rush home for sperm donation. Or when she'd be in tears because she wasn't pregnant and he'd need an extra measure of compassion.

  According to his schedule, her period was several days late. He smiled to himself, standing a bit taller, feeling quite the studly cowboy. Yippee ki-yay.

  CLAUDIA hung up the phone with a smile. After centuries of validating their studies of men and women anecdotally, modern medicine was providing proof. Functional MRIs revealed brain activity and blood tests measured hormone levels. Doctors like Louanne Brizendine had put the two together to understand the behavior of men and women biologically. Today, medical science had validated Burt's observations.

  “Why are you smiling?” Burt asked, entering the kitchen.

  “That was the doctor. The test results have come back. She asked had I been under any unusual stress lately.”

  Burt snorted, “I think we established that.”

  “And so has she,” Claudia nodded. “My blood had elevated levels of cortisol, the stress hormone. You could call it the ‘accountability hormone.’ It shows up when women go into man-mode. It also explains why I have acquired some extra belly fat.”

  He hugged her from behind and rubbed her tummy. “Is that what you call this? I call it bonus curves.”

  She turned around and looked up at him. “The point is: you were right. Even according to modern medicine.”

  “I only care that I'm right for you,” he said gruffly and kissed her forehead. “And I'm glad to have my Queen back.”

  VIII. The Soul of a Man

  CLAUDIA prepared for Saturday's session mindful of her commitment to support and enhance Karen and Kimberlee's journey — instead of being accountable for the outcome. She caught herself humming as she laid out the tea and coffee supplies. She added a coffeecake she had made that morning in a sudden mood to bake. Smiling to herself, she recognized the urge as a sign she was truly returning to the feminine.

  It had been relatively easy to plan their sessions in the old mode. She had points to make and a destination. Contemplating the new role she intended to play compelled her to breathe more and anticipate less. And Claudia was trying to accept a slower pace, telling herself that it gave the younger women time to research and practice on their own.

  After the three of them settled at the table, she opened the conversation with, “We have arrived at the fifth word of the Language of Heroes. Can either of you guess what it is?”

  “Accountability?” Kimberlee replied and Claudia shook her head. “Good choice since accountability goes hand-in-hand with being a Provider. But no.”

  “Focus?” Karen offered and again Claudia demurred. “Another good choice since testosterone shapes the brain to focus on Saving anyone within reach, Helping those he can, and being able to Provide what is most Needed. But, alas, that is not it either.”

  “Problem?” Karen ventured. “Burt used that word several times last week.”

  Claudia was pleasantly surprised. “Actually, there was a long-running debate in my family about whether ‘problem’ is the sixth word of the Hero Language. Men certainly respond to that word, and women hesitate to use it as much as the other words.”

  She felt sad. “My mother died before it was ever resolved and I have not had anyone with whom to discuss it.” She brightened, “I suppose it will be the three of us that carry on that debate. But that's not the word I'm looking for today.”

  She saw their faces fall in disappointment and caught herself. How can they be accountable if I don't let them follow their noses?

  “Okay, why not? Would you like to talk about problems?” she asked.

  Karen groaned, “I guess I started this, but truthfully, I never want to talk about problems.”

  Claudia laughed, “Most women cannot stand to even say the word, my dear!”

  “Really? I thought it was just me.”

  Claudia frowned. “The words that mean the most to men seem to be the most difficult for women to say.” She chuckled, “I have heard women do anything to avoid the word ‘problem.’ They will say ‘challenge,’ ‘difficulty,’ ‘hiccup.’ Almost anything to avoid ‘problem.’ The worst, of course, is ‘issue.’”

  “Why is that the worst?” Kimberlee asked.

  “Because of the effect it has on a man,” Claudia replied. “If you say ‘I have a problem’ to a man, he perks up. By definition, problems have solutions. They are finite. If you say, ‘I have an issue,’ you will see his shoulders fall and the energy drain out of him. ‘Issues’ seem interminable to them.”

  Kimberlee looked excited, “Like they can't win! I've seen that look on Raul's face.”

  Claudia felt gratified. “When what he provides never amounts to more than the energy he spends, a man says, ‘I can't win.’ And men have been defeated by women's ‘issues’ for decades. Give him a problem, and truly let him solve it, and he will be happy. But spare him an issue.”

  Karen groaned. “And all this time, I thought I was helping Mike by hiding my problems until I could solve them myself.” With her head in her hands, she said in despair, “How much more don't I know about men?”

  “Karen, look at me,” Claudia insisted. The golden-brown eyes met hers. “How many years have my family studied men?”

  “About five hundred?” Karen guessed.

  “And how many years have you studied men?”

  “Less than one. Less than a half, actually.”

  Claudia cocked her head to the side, “Any chance you might give yourself credit for beginning this journey before you have reached the end?”

  “Maybe,” Karen replied.

  Claudia's pulse raced, but she had to know. “I have been at this all my life and I am still discovering who men are. If you feel hopeless every time men surprise you, you might want to give up now.”

  She waited while Karen considered the choice and felt relieved when she saw her shoulders square. “Nope,” Karen replied, “I'm not giving up. I'm humbled but determined.”

  Claudia looked at Kimberlee and was happy to see her grinning. “No way are you scaring me off!” she said. “I can stand to feel stupid over and over again. It's worth it.”

  “Well then, how about the last word of the Hero Language?” Claudia continued.

  As their faces screwed up in concentration, Claudia gave a clue. “Remember, the Language of Heroes speaks to the heart, soul and spirit of a man. That is why it is effective. It calls to him, rouses him, honors him. This is not a learned behavior. The language is there at birth. A boy who has never heard this last word before will still respond to it.”

  They still looked befuddled. She tried again, only prompting and prodding, unwilling to take up the lead. “Think about what appeals even to small men; also known as boys. How do they play act? What do they dream of being?”

  “Superheroes?” Karen responded.

  Claudia smiled, “Go on,” she said, declining the reins.

  “The boys at school are constant
ly role-playing superheroes. The one who is killing the dragon, rescuing his playmates, saving the day.”

  “Then that's the word?” Kimberlee asked. “The fifth word is ‘Hero?’ Men want to be heroes?”

  Claudia smiled. “You cannot separate Hero and Man,” she said, “They are one and the same. The soul of a man is a hero.”

  Karen gasped.

  “It was right there all along!” Kimberlee laughed. “And Jack said it to me the other night. That he might need to be my hero. I told him it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me.”

  Claudia felt her heart leap and her eyes tear up. Without hearing it from her first, Kimberlee had aptly received Jack's gift. She lives in my world now, Claudia thought joyfully.

  “Are you okay, Grandmother?” Kimberlee asked.

  Claudia patted the young woman's hand and noticed how much more beautiful she had become; softer, radiant. “I am much better than okay, my dear. I am proud and pleased as can be.”

  “Um, Claudia?” Karen said hesitantly.

  “Yes?”

  “What exactly is a hero? As opposed to a good man? Is there some standard?”

  “That is a great question, Karen. And very relevant,” Claudia responded. “It all depends on whose point of view you are looking from. For many men, they would have to save a life to qualify as a hero for themselves. For me, men are my heroes by being accountable for what matters, by providing what is needed, by helping a stranger, by saving a spider.”

  She noticed Kimberlee smiling. “What makes a man a hero for you?” Claudia asked.

  “When he makes me feel safe. Or beautiful. Treasured. Special. Valued,” Kimberlee responded. Claudia had the distinct impression she was not speaking abstractly.