He never invited me, exactly, but always seemed pleased when I arrived and regretful when I left. I felt much the same way for I enjoyed his company, his interest in my opinions, and the giveand-take of our frequent disagreements. Our arguments might have been spirited but they never became embittered. We differed on everything from the best wine for linguine and clam sauce to the influence of feminism on the fashion industry.
I was conscious of a growing intimacy, and I think Chas was, too. I don't mean physical, for our contacts never went beyond a light kiss.
But we became increasingly comfortable in each other's presence, silences didn't embarrass us, and we both developed a heightened sensitivity to the other's moods.
The subject of his impotence was never mentioned, and gradually it became "no big deal" to both of us. I must confess that during that summer I decided to make his studio more habitable and attractive. I have never been domestic, but I was offended by the primitive conditions in which he seemed content to live and work.
I insisted he buy new glassware, china, and cutlery. I had cheerful curtains and drapes made for his windows. I suggested he make his bed each morning and use a patterned satin coverlet since the bed was in plain view of visitors. I also persuaded him to purchase a few comfortable chairs for guests and a table he could use for dining rather than his cluttered desk.
"When are you going to put chintz ruffles on my wheelchair?" he asked.
He affected to treat the improvements with amused scorn, but I think he secretly was delighted, not only with the refurbishment of his home but with the wifely interest I was taking in his wellbeing. He might have joked about my efforts at interior decoration, but I noticed he was shaving every day, keeping his hair trimmed (via a barber's house calls), and his fingernails were reasonably clean. He also made arrangements with a florist to have a fresh gladiolus delivered every week.
"My brother says the place is beginning to look like a New Orleans cathouse," he remarked.
This conversation occurred the day after Herman Todd consulted me. It was an opening I welcomed and had no compunction using.
"Herman should know," I said lightly. "I imagine he's spent a lot of time in bordellos." , "There you're wrong, doc," Chas said. "My goofy brother is the kind of guy who'd never pay for sex. He thinks if you have to pay for it, it's a sign of failure. He prefers making a conquest.
After all, he is a salesman.
"You make him sound like a predator."
"Maybe he is, in a way."
"Chas, I have a theory about men like that. Listen and tell me what you think. It's not really sexual pleasure they're seeking, it's the chase and the eventual surrender that excite them. That's why they're inveterate womanizers."
"An interesting idea," he said slowly. "You're saying they get their jollies from the hunt?"
"Something like that. And they go from prey to prey. if "If you're right, Cherry, then a man like that should never marry. A long, stable relationship with one woman would bore him to tears. Or else he'd become a compulsive cheater."
"Do you think that describes your brother?"
"Too close for comfort. How about mixing us a nice, dry gin martini, sharp and cold. Use the new glasses."
I mixed our drinks, brought Chas his usual double, and curled up in a new armchair facing him.
"Why do you think Herman is like that?" I asked.
He thought a moment. "Hard to say. It started when he was in high school. Even then he was chasing skirts. His nickname was Hotrocks.
I think he was proud of it."
"But why, Chas?"
"You're the psychiatrist, not me, Dr. Noble. You tell me why."
"I don't know enough about Herman. All I can do is generalize. But you're his sibling, you grew up with him. You must have a clue."
"It's a crazy notion," he said, "but what it might be is that Herm was an absolute klutz when it came to sports and games. His eye-hand coordination is lousy. My God, the guy can't even catch a ball. I was the jock of the family, and all my energy went into physical activity, especially running. I ran around a track, my brother ran after girls.
Does that make any sense at all?"
"Mmm," I said. "Do you think Herman was jealous of you? jealous of your prowess as an athlete?"
Chas frowned. "That never occurred to me," he said, "but it's possible.
I won some medals and cups. An article about me was in the sports pages of our local newspaper. Sure, it would be normal for Herm to be jealous, wouldn't it? Or envious?"
"Or both," I said. "And unconsciously decided to excel at another activity-seducing women. He wouldn't win any medals or cups, but he'd have the satisfaction of succeeding and earning a reputation as Hotrocks."
"It makes a nutty kind of sense," Chas said.
"It's a very neat explanation of why he does what he does," I said, "but I don't think it's the whole story. Ready for a refill?"
"Always," he said.
We spoke no more about the behavior of Herman Todd. I had some additional thoughts on the subject, but I was afraid they might offend Chas and felt it best to talk of other things.
But when I returned home later that night, I sat at, my desk and scribbled notes on what might evolve into a case history.
What Chas had told me about his brother was not conclusive, of course, but it did suggest several approaches to Herman's problems.
I thought it justifiable to reckon that the subject had been jealous of his brother's athletic success and had determined to prove his own prowess in a quite different arena. He could have selected chess, for example, or music or any of the other arts to test his talent and skill.
But Herman chose seduction. I thought more than sibling rivalry was involved.
If not wholly sibling rivalry, then what? I saw Herman's behavior as possibly an attempt to establish his bona fides as a "real" man. Inept at sports and games, he had to assert his masculinity by aggressive conduct toward women. He became an obsessive lothario, and each conquest added to his self-esteem.
All this could be bullshit, of course. The subject wasn't in therapy yet, I had hardly spoken to him. But I had learned to trust my instincts, and in this case I was convinced I was on the right track, Herman was continually seeking to conquer because his mistrust of his own masculinity needed constant assuaging.
This preliminary analysis troubled me because it was one short step from determined seduction to a more overt and brutal form of physical aggression toward women, culminating in rape. I wondered if Herman had ever struck his wife or any other woman.
Complicating Herman's dysfunction might well be his brother's war record. Chas had volunteered, fought bravely, and had been grievously wounded. Herman might express scorn for his brother's decision to go to war, but I was certain his admiration and envy of Chas existed, no matter how deeply they were bidden. Chas had proved himself a man.
Herman constantly doubted his own maleness, and those doubts were driving him to a form of aggression that was threatening his marriage and might ultimately destroy his life.
All this was speculation on my part. But I had learned that no one who works in the field of human behavior really knows. We can only make educated guesses-and hope we are right. So when Herman Todd phoned early the next week, I told him I thought I might be able to help him and suggested he come to my office to begin a series of therapeutic sessions.
He thanked me for my interest but said he had been giving his situation a great deal of thought and had decided he could solve his personal problems by himself, without professional assistance.