"Everyone knows that. When you get grown up, it's okay to love someone and then you get married. But kids can't get married, so what's the point of loving someone? It wouldn't do you any good."
"You can love someone and not get married," she argued.
"Freddy Washburn told Velma Burkhardt he loved her, and they're just kids and can't get married. ,who told you that?"
"Told me what?"
"That Freddy Washburn told Velma Burkhardt he loved her."
"Velma told me."
"Well, Freddy Washburn is a real nerd, everyone knows that, and he was probably lying."
"No, he wasn't," Tania said. "He gave Velma a friendship ring. it's got like this little blue stone in it. So that proves he loves her, Chet."
"He probably found it in a box of Cracker Jack."
"But he gave it to her. That's the point."
"Well, what do you want me to do-give you a friendship ring?"
"That would be nice," she said. "it would show you love me."
"I didn't say I did."
"Does that mean you don't?"
"I didn't say I did, I didn't say I don't. What's important about it anyway?" so She sighed. "You just don't understand."
"I sure don't," I said. "Explain it to me."
"Well, if a boy says he loves a girl, then she is his girl and he can't love anyone else. And if a girl loves a boy, then she can't love anyone else either. It's just the two of them, forever and ever."
"That's stupid," I said. "What if one of them moves away?" , "Then they write each other or talk on the telephone.
"But what if one of them moves to like Russia and they never see each other again. What happens then? "
"It doesn't make any difference, Chet," she said. "They've got to keep on loving each other, because they said so."
"That's stupid," I said again. "It just don't make sense." "Doesn't," she said. "And it's not stupid. It means the boy and girl belong to each other. And if one of them gets hurt or gets sick, the other one takes care of them."
I didn't say anything.
"If I get hurt or sick, Chet," she said. "I mean after we run away.
Will you take care of me?"
"Sure," I said. "Of course I would. I wouldn't just leave you."
"Well, that proves you love me. And if you gave me a friendship ring, it would be like a sign."
"A sign of what?"
"That we belong to each other."
"Hey," I said, "it's awfully hot. Let's put our suits on and go to the pool."
"All right," she said.
I was glad she agreed. Talking about love and all that mush was making me nervous.
I sat in that stinking wheelchair every day, and every day I wondered if I had been a goddamned fool not to accept Uncle Samuel's offer of prostheses and elbow canes. I don't know why I opted for a chair. I think maybe I didn't want to display my infirmity in public. Or maybe I wanted to play the martyr. who the hell knows. Do you always know why you do the things you do?
That's especially true of moral choices. They're a bitch, because no one gives you a guid when you're born. You're supposed to learn by education, training, and experience. But sometimes you're faced with conflicts that nothing has prepared you for. There are no precedents, and common sense can only take you so far.
What brought on that fit of introspection was the business of my niece, Tania, planning to run away from home. I figured that if I snitched on her, she'd never forgive me. But if I kept her plans secret, as I had promised, I could be endangering her safety. I didn't like to think of what kids like her and Chester Barrow might face on the road by themselves.
So I batted it back and forth, and I finally decided to inform their parents. I told Cherry Noble what I was going to do.
"I'm glad, Chas," she said. "Children are not just young adults, they're children and haven't yet learned to act in their own best interests."
"I guess," I said. "I keep wishing Tania may eventually forgive and forget I betrayed her. And maybe it'll make the parents pay a little more attention to their kids. It's a gamble."
"All our choices are gambles," Cherry said. "Aren't they?
We try to calculate the odds and go with the decision that offers the best chance of success. But sometimes we go against the odds.
That's called hope."
"Thank you, doctor," I said.
"How are you going to tell the parents?" she asked, ignoring my sarcasm. "Telephone them?"
"No, that's too cold. Herman comes here for lunch every Thursday.
I'll tell him then," "I think that's wise," she said. "Be sure to say or imply that you think it's the shortcomings of the parents that made Tania want to leave home. I wish you could talk to the mother, too."
"I will," I vowed. "I'll tell Herman to ask her to come out here so I can talk to her one-on-one. I'm going to be tough on them."
"Good," Cherry said. "Even if Tania is imagining her grievances, they should be aware of them."
So that was that, another crisis dealt with, a decision made.
But I couldn't forget what Cherry had said about all our choices being gambles. The most important bet I had to make involved her.
What convinced me were things I had said and things she had said about my book-in-progress, The Romance of Tommy Termite. It didn't take a giant brain to realize I was writing about myself.
All of Tommy's indecisions were mine, and all his hopes were mine.
That included love, marriage, home, family-the whole megillah.
It wasn't that I was unhappy with the way things presently were between Cherry and me, ut our relationship irked me because it seemed b incomplete. There was something missing-and it wasn't just sex.
It took me a while to figure out what was bugging me, but I finally identified it, There was no commitment.
I had reached the point in my narrative where Tommy the Termite decides to give up his bachlorhood and ask Lucy to marry him. (I could hardly wait to write the termite wedding scene, that was going to be fun.) Anyway, Tommy goes through a lot of mental and emotional anguish before he decides to pop the question. He's afraid of giving up his independence. He's afraid of losing his freedom.
He's afraid of taking on responsibilities he isn't sure he can handle.
I was afraid of those things, too, and in addition I had the fear of impotence to overcome. It was no use saying the decision was a gamble, take a chance, and what did I have to lose. I had a lot to loseand so did Cherry Noble. Maybe it was because we had spent those years as analyst and analysand that I had little hesitation in talking to her about it. , "First of all," I said, "I want you to know that I realize this isn't wholly my decision to make. I have no idea what your reaction might be, but I know it's just as important or more important than mine. So you'll have your mind to make up after you help me make up mine. What I'm trying to say is that I'm not taking you for granted. I hope you understand that."
"I understand," she said quietly.
It might have been the first day of September but South Florida was still sweltering. I had finally sprung for a new air conditioner, a beast of a machine that could bring the inside temperature down to the point where you could hang fresh hams on the walls.
It wasn't quite that cold, but I kept it chilly enough so that Cherry always brought a light sweater along when she came to visit. We were sitting close to each other, working on a bottle of Frascati, when I started my confession.
I remember very well that the bathroom door was open and the light was on in there. It didn't provide much illumination for the big room, but it was a bright night, a full moon or close to it, and a pearly glow was coming through the windows. It was like being under water, looking up and seeing a wavery translucence, almost hypnotic.