Nicaea    A novel about a girl's choices in life.

"Looks like there’s no TV so we’re going to have to talk," said Jake. "Oh well."

"Don’t give me that," I said, still laughing at the idea of his debriefing Ann on everything we "didn’t do." I picked up a pillow and threatened to throw it at him. "There are plenty of things I could do around here."

"I wouldn’t start in that direction if I were you. Do you realize I probably have a 60-pound weight advantage on you?"

"So what?" I said.

"Try it then," he offered.

"I need to ask you some questions first," I said.

"That’s because you’ve realized you’re no match for me and you’re retreating behind a journalist’s guise," he said.

"No, I’ve realized you need a very thorough examination. I don’t know anything about you."

"Okay. Should I undress?" he asked. I threw the pillow at him. He kept it, and collected the others that were in reach so that I was without ammunition.

"Do I look like a doctor?" I said.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I saw one like you on TV. Now, if you’d just make up your mind whether you want to do an examination or a pillow fight, we’ll be all set. You’ll have to come over here to get the pillows, though." He made it clear they were not going to be easy to get.

I sat back down in the chair and just looked at him. He put the pillows down. It was hard to keep a straight face and I couldn’t think of any questions to ask him at all.

"Can I ask you a question, then?" he finally said. I burst out laughing, not so much because what he said was funny but because I couldn’t contain it any longer. It was part nervous hysteria but also just his humorous way and the fun of "keeping him at bay."

"What kind of competition do I have?" he said when I quieted down.

"Competition?" I said, pretending not to know what he was talking about.

"I suppose you’re going to make me rephrase the question?" he said.

"You weren’t very specific."

"I could be embarrassingly specific if you like, but I was trying to behave myself."

"I do like good behavior," I said, and cleared my throat and sat up straighter. "I don’t think you should worry about competition," I said with mock seriousness. "What I think you should worry about is ... " and I thought in vain for an appropriate answer.

"Yes?" he said. "I’m all ears."

"It can only be revealed," I said, "at the stroke of midnight when the moon is full and I have won the pillow fight--where are you going?"

Jake had gotten up off the couch. He pulled aside the curtains of the front window and said, "What do you know... there’s a full moon."

"You’re kidding!" I said. But I looked and he was right. I hadn’t been paying attention on our walk home.

Next he handed me all the pillows and said that he had been critically wounded by the pillow I had thrown and therefore surrendered. He moved the hands on the wall clock until the clock read midnight.

"Looks like it’s time for a revelation," he said, and sat back down on the couch.

"Looks like you cheated!" I said.

"I prefer to think of it as being clever enough to get around unfair stipulations," he replied.

The fun went out of it for me and I stopped smiling. "But I don’t understand your question," I said, not hiding the dismay I felt.

"It sounded like you understood my question," he said with gentleness, "but you said there was something I should worry about and I wondered what that was. Should I worry about offending you? About being unappealing to you? About boring you? About embarrassing you? Tell me what it is so I can handle it and won’t have to worry. About the only thing worrying’s good for is making your hair fall out early."

"You should worry about what a simpleton you’re dealing with," I said. I stopped short of saying anything further.

"How’s that ?" he asked.

I had been standing, but at this point I crumpled into the chair and felt like crying. I said very faintly, unable to look at him, "I don’t know what you want."

"Is that all that’s bothering you? I can answer that for you. Come here and sit by me so you can look me in the eye and see if I’m telling the truth."

I knew I didn’t want to hear that. It might be something that I would find overwhelming ... or at least it would spoil the excitement of now knowing what lay ahead. "I don’t know if I can face the answer right now," I said.

"Well, then come over here and ask me what my favorite color is, or any question of your choice. I promise I will answer anything you ask me as best I can."

I looked at him uncertainly.

"I know I look like a predator," he said. "After all, I’m male and you’re female and a lot of my fellow men have set very bad examples and taken advantage of women much finer than themselves--"

"But I don’t even know how to be taken advantage of!" I interjected.

"Oh!" he said, really getting exactly what my concern was at last and not disguising his surprise. It was so funny that it made me laugh. I also felt relieved that I had been able to communicate something that I was embarrassed to say outright.

"Don’t I feel like an idiot," he said, shaking his head at himself. "I’ll tell you right now what I think of that, just so you’re not wondering. It doesn’t change anything except to make me feel even more responsible for my actions. I have no preconceived timetable or list of demands. Whatever you want, Miri, is what I want to provide. You just let me know."

"I don’t know what I want," I said, "which is why I told you I’m a simpleton."

"I don’t believe you," he said. "You knew what you wanted last night."

"Yes, but that was silly. I was just having fun."

"Nothing wrong with that," he said. "We could put that on the list of things you want. Having fun. Having a pillow fight. Yes? No?"

"Sometimes," I said.

"Okay. And what do you want right now, right this minute?"

I looked at him carefully across the room and smiled.

"You probably want to run over here," he said, "slap me several times and throw ice water on my head--"

I interrupted him by running over and jumping on the couch next to him. "Give me your hand," I said, and he did. I looked into his eyes and experienced an exquisite feeling. "Explain to me what this feeling is," I said, "when I look in your eyes."

This question affected him. I thought he was purposefully not answering it at the time, but he later told me he was not able to make his vocal cords work. He was using every ounce of energy he had to restrain himself from reaching for me. I was unaware of it. I sat basking in the eye contact with him for a few moments, then backed away and withdrew my hand.

"Never mind that question," I said. "Let me ask something else."

He nodded. I bounced over to the far end of the couch and leaned against the corner of it, looking at him.

We talked for hours, sitting there on opposite ends of the couch. I asked him many things about his experiences in life, and volunteered things about my own from time to time. He told me at several points that I should make him leave whenever I was ready for him to go, and that he would go right now if I wanted. I ignored these comments because I didn’t want him to go. Even when I was very aware of being tired, my interest in talking with him had not subsided. I was having fun; his answers were always interesting and usually funny.

Finally I laughed myself nearly onto the floor at one of his childhood stories and was seriously wilted due to lack of sleep. The sky was beginning to lighten outside.

"I think I should send you to bed now" he said.

"I should send myself," I said. I got up, and he got up too.

"I work swing shift on Monday," he said, "but I can take you to check out that job before that. I’ll come here and get you at 10:00. Okay?"

"You’re too nice to me," I said.

"Don’t tell Ann," he said. "It will ruin my reputation with her." We both smiled, too tired to laugh. He looked outside and looked at the clock on the wall which read a few minutes after seven since he had changed the time last night. "If you don’t mind, maybe I’ll take a short nap here before stepping outside. It might scandalize your neighbors less than waking them up at the crack of dawn."

"That’s okay," I said, and went into the bedroom.

The next thing I remember is the phone ringing and hearing voices. I drifted back to sleep for a moment before Ann came in and said, "Miri, you need to get up right now. Your parents are on their way over here!" She came over and shook me when I didn’t respond right away.

Next I heard her out in the front room saying loudly to Jake, "Get up you big lout! At least Miri put you in your proper place. Don’t go anywhere until I can get her to tell you what to do."

I appeared in the doorway. "Do you know I had to grab the phone out of his hands to keep him from answering your father’s call?" Ann said to me. "You shouldn’t have let him sleep by the phone."

I hadn’t thought of that possible disaster. I hadn’t thought about my parents at all for a couple of days. The last I knew they were going to talk over the idea of visiting me. With that sixth sense that parents have, they must have decided to make a surprise visit and see for themselves how I was doing. I looked at Jake and he was looking at me, waiting to see what I would say, looking sleepy.

"They just flew in on an early flight this morning," said Ann, "and they want to take us out to breakfast. I told them you were in the shower, so you’d better get going. Should I eject this intruder?" she said, looking at Jake.

I looked at him. "I’d like to meet your parents," he said. "But I think you should decide on the appropriate time," he said to me. "With your permission I will be ejected now."

"All right," I said, smiling. After he was out the door I said to Ann, "I feel terrible! This is the worst possible timing! I must have had four hours of sleep, at best."

"Get in the shower. You’ll feel better," she said. So I did.

My parents arrived just a couple minutes after I was showered and dressed. We showed them the apartment, which passed their "inspection," and I gave them an abbreviated tour of the campus on our way to breakfast. We had a good time and they seemed very favorably impressed with Ann. Of course I’d written to them all about her many virtues, and she conducted herself well in front of others so it was not hard to predict that much.

When my father was in the restroom my mother asked me if I had a boyfriend. She knew me too well. Ann remained very obviously occupied with her breakfast plate, and I had to decide quickly what to say.

"Well I don’t know if I’d go that far," I said to her as casually as I could, sounding very forced and artificial to myself, "but I did meet someone recently, and I like him."

"Perhaps we can meet him while we’re here. Do you think you’ll be seeing him in the next week? We’ll be going back next Saturday night. I think it would do your father good to see that you’re associating with nice young people, and that you’re grown up enough to be trusted with your relationships."

I knew what she really meant by that. She and father had speculated on why I had decided to stay here, and she wanted to show father that she had guessed correctly. She also wanted this "young man" to be kept in line by being placed under my father’s perusal. I started to resent their visit slightly, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"I’m going to see him tomorrow," I said. "His name is Jake, by the way. Jake Ternes. He’s taking me to a job interview. Maybe we can all have lunch together before he goes to work."

"That would be just perfect," said mother, smiling.

*****

Jake played his part very well the next afternoon. He and my father hit it off when Jake explained that he planned to complete his undergraduate degree in chemistry next year and then study Pharmacy. In our long talk together Saturday night it hadn’t even occurred to me to ask Jake what he was planning to do with the rest of his life, so it came as a surprise to me. It seemed almost like an omen that someone would show up in my life who was on the exact path that my father had chosen for me.

Jake drove me to Eaves & Company, which turned out to be close enough for me to get to by bicycle. I got the job and would be starting the following Monday. I certainly liked it when life was like this, with things falling into place effortlessly. My parents were very pleased that the matter was handled, and we spent the rest of the week sightseeing and relaxing. We visited the Frank Lloyd Wright House, Sea World, a few parks and many of the museums and antique shops. Jake and Ann went with us to Cedar Point Amusement Park on Saturday morning. It was the first time I had seen him since Monday. I hadn’t had a chance to speak with him about last weekend, or what he thought about being looked over by my parents, what he thought of them, or anything beyond social pleasantries.

Jake invited me to go with him on one of the rollercoasters at Cedar Point and that was the only chance we had to be even partially alone. The others waited at a table, having lunch ahead of us while we went through the line.

"I really didn’t know my parents planned to come this soon, " I said to him, "though I admit that I invited them to come visit me when I told them I was staying here for the summer."

"So this is really all my fault; is that what you’re trying to say?"

"No! You’re always trying to take credit for everything," I teased.

"You’d be in Oregon right now if I hadn’t argued my point so well. Note; I didn’t say ‘if you hadn’t wanted to be near me.’ I want to point out that I’m not a conceited blockhead. I’m sure we’ve been entirely analytical about this. "

I was facing him, ahead of him in the line, and he took my shoulders and gently turned me around and walked me forward a few paces because I hadn’t noticed the line had moved forward. I turned around to face him again when he took his hands away.

"I know, I know," he said. "I’m being too pushy. But I didn’t want someone to get ahead of you in line."

"I don’t like being ahead of you in line!" I said, and glued myself to his side with my arm around his waist. He put his arm around my shoulder and we went through the rest of the line silently. It seemed even better than talking to him, being in constant contact with so much of his body, perceiving each small movement he made and how different it was from the motion I was used to with my own body. His size was different, his shape and strength, and I noted with fascination all the small and large movements of his body as we walked forward in line, and the lessening or increasing in pressure as he tightened or relaxed his hold on me, the deepness or shallowness of his breathing, his response when I pressed myself closer to him or drew away.

The roller coaster ride was not as much fun as standing in line.

Ann, Jake and I said good-bye to my parents later that afternoon as they drove off to the airport. It was good to see them, but it was even better to see them go. I was anxious to get on with life. I had the better part of a weekend ahead, then a new job. And I suddenly realized that I had not touched the organ for over a week. I had to get back to practicing.

"You’re very fortunate to have them for parents," Ann said to me as we stood outside the apartment watching their car disappear around a corner. "Good, sensible people. The only problem was that they didn’t see through this sinister creature and have gone off and left you at his mercy."

"Well you didn’t expect me to reveal my true intentions to them, did you?" said Jake.

"I suppose not," said Ann. "But you’d better reveal them now so I know whether I can stay in my own apartment tonight or not."

"Of course you can!" I said. "You could have last week. I tried to tell you that. Nothing happened... I mean--"

Ann laughed. "Don’t take anything I say seriously, Miri. I had intended to go into Cleveland last weekend anyway. Besides, this lout knows he’s dead meat if he does anything stupid."

"I’m afraid I’ve already done plenty of stupid things," said Jake, "and I’m not dead yet. I know you’re all bark and no bite," -- Ann smiled when he said this -- "but just to get away from the heckling we decided to go to my place tonight."

"We did not!" I said.

"Well, perhaps we haven’t worked out the details yet," said Jake.

"Like the kidnapping, bribing the witnesses--" began Ann.

"I haven’t had a chance to ask her yet, that’s all," said Jake. "Would you like to come over to my place?" he said to me.

"No!" I cried.

Ann walked into the apartment saying, "Have fun, Casanova."

Jake looked at me. "I suppose you must be sick of me about now. Is there anything you’d like to do tomorrow? Or today?"

"I’m not sick of you," I said. "I would like to go somewhere very pretty and take a long walk. I feel like walking."

"Will this be a solo walk or a duo?"

"A duo, I think, if I can get anyone to go with me."

"I volunteer," he said. "Where are we going?"

"I don’t know. I’ll have to look at a map. I never have showed you where Oregon is, either."

"I have maps at my place," he said.

"In that case, let’s just get in the car and drive until we end up somewhere."

"My place is not rat-infested, honestly, and no one’s ever died or been tortured there. It would be all right to look at a map there, and you might like your destination better that way," he argued.

"No, we’re just going to go wherever we end up. Don’t you like adventures?" I said.

"I do! Just think of the adventures we could have in my apartment!"

Laughing, I grabbed his arm and tried to fling him out into the street but all I succeeded in doing was throwing him off balance a little so that he had to take a step sideways.

"I feel somewhat rejected," he said.

"You feel rejected?" I protested. "What about me? You asked me what I wanted to do and I said what I wanted and you haven’t lifted a finger to make it happen."

"By Jove, you’re right!" he said, and he swooped me up in his arms and ran toward his car while I half laughed and half yelled at him. He put me in the car, ran around to the other side, started the car and got us underway immediately . I was laughing so much I didn’t pay attention to our heading. We were traveling a direction I wasn’t familiar with, out into the countryside. He stopped at an information center of some sort and we got out of the car and went inside.

"Maps," he said, pointing to the displays and piles of maps lying on the counter tops. "And I’d like to point out that this isn’t my apartment."

I hugged him quickly and escaped before he could say or do anything, going over to look at the map of park trails. I felt as buoyant as a child; actually I felt more light-hearted than I had ever felt as a child.

"Findley State Park," I read out loud when he had walked over to my side. "I know someone named Findlay. But his name is spelled with an ‘a’ instead of an ‘e’."

"Are you finally getting around to answering my question about the competition?" he said.

"Not really. But I did think once, a long time ago, that I would be married to Brad Findlay some day."

"Then what happened?" he asked.

"He married Tamara," I said.

"The same Tamara whose apartment you moved into?" he asked.

"That’s right. She’s just right for him, so he made a good choice, don’t you think?"

"Do you still love him?" asked Jake. I looked hard at the trail map in the display case but I could feel his eyes on me, and his desire to know bored into me. I was unsure how to answer the question.

"Of course I do," I said quietly. "He lived with us for a year as a boarder and we all still think of him as part of the family. My father thinks the world of him."

Some other people walked into the room, curtailing our conversation. Jake’s playfulness had temporarily evaporated, but I tugged on his hand to get him to go out to the trails with me.

"We’ll just start here and see where we end up," I said, pointing to a trail. We began walking and I couldn’t help but run into the thicket of trees ahead, seeing delightful patches of wildflowers and mysterious shadows. Jake lagged behind and finally I stopped to sit on a rock and wait for him. He looked so serious.

"Why did you think you would be married to him?" he asked, as if we were still in the middle of the conversation.

"Because I was stupid," I said.

"Like me," he said.

"No! What’s the matter with you?"

"It puts a whole different light on things when one realizes one is simply a diversion from an unrequited love," he muttered.

I was alarmed that he thought that, but it made me wonder .... was it true? I looked it over carefully and I couldn’t see any truth to it. Jake sat down on a log several feet away and was looking more serious than ever.

"Brad was never anything but a good friend to me," I said. "I looked up to him. I learned from him. I felt privileged that he confided in me. It was just a silly mistake on my part. I interpreted his affection for me to mean something he never intended. And the only reason I did that was because I hadn’t any idea about the feelings possible .... I had never .... I told you I’m a simpleton!"

"I don’t believe you," he said, with at least a little of his teasing tone back.

"Well, I did have a date once. I only went on one date in my life. That was more than enough. Did I ever tell you about that? It would probably make you feel very inadequate. Would you like to hear about it?"

"All right, go ahead and torture me," he said.

I told him the whole story in great detail, from the guy’s getting lost on the way to the movie to his clumsy attempts at initiating activities in his car after the movie. I finally succeeding in making Jake laugh.

"Stiff competition, isn’t it?" I said.

"I’ll give the poor guy the benefit of the doubt and assume you were exaggerating," he said. "He must have done something right if he got to kiss you."

"No! Not at all. He was blindly lucky. I disliked every moment I spent with him. And I’ve enjoyed every moment I’ve spent with you." Jake smiled. "We’re not getting much walking done, though," I added. I got up and brushed myself off and we continued down the trail. I had a wonderful time, running ahead half the time, then running back to Jake’s side and holding his hand for a while. We turned back after a half hour or so and walked back to the car.

When he drove up to my apartment building I said, "Why did you bring me here?"

"Where was I supposed to bring you?" he said.

"I need to go to your place right away," I said. "There were no maps of Oregon at Findley State Park. This is urgent."

He smiled, but he said, "I should probably get you something to eat. Aren’t you hungry?"

"Oh no," I said. "I won’t be hungry until after we look at Oregon. I order you to take me to your place right now. If you don’t, I’ll get on my bicycle and go there without you."

"You don’t know where it is," he said.

"Then you’d better take me right now."

"All right," he said, driving away from my apartment. "I just want it to go on the record that you forced me to take you to my apartment. Who knows what else you might force me to do."

I reached over and shook his arm lightly. "I know I seem like a real battle-ax to you," I said.

"Close. You seem like something out of a fairy tale."

When we got inside his apartment he pulled out an atlas for me and I stretched out on the floor to look at it. He got down beside me and I showed him Oregon and all the cities I knew something about. He showed me a map of the Cleveland area and we made note of the places that might be interesting to see, then walked next door to a hamburger place and got something to eat. We had agreed to meet at 7:00 the next morning to drive over to Vermilion, so he drove me home.

"Now what would you like me to do?" he asked me as we stood facing each other again.

"You’re always asking me that!" I teased him.

"I figure that’s better than just acting on my own ideas and getting slapped."

"Nobody slaps men anymore. That’s old-fashioned," I said.

"Well, they ought to. And you ought to answer my question."

"What are you hoping I’ll say?" I asked.

"I’m hoping you’ll answer the question truthfully."

"I’m not willing to answer the question truthfully," I said. "So in the meantime, I would like you to just take my hands and say good-bye."

He did. We stood looking at each other for what seemed like minutes, holding hands. I moved toward him and put his hands around my waist, resting the whole front of my body against his and my right cheek against his chest. The sensation was almost overwhelming. I backed away and looked at him. I let go of his hands and said, "That’s enough."

"I disagree," he said in a low voice.

"For now," I said.

"I agree," he said. I ran inside and had a hard time getting to sleep, but I was more than ready to get up at 6:00 the next morning.

It was another day full of fun in a beautiful setting. We walked all over for most of the morning, just talking lightly of this and that. After lunch we sat quietly for a while and he asked me why I was being so cautious with him.

"Am I being cautious?" I asked. "I thought I was being bold."

Although he was not serious as he had been yesterday, he continued his line of questioning with a less humor than usual. "Are you afraid I will not be able to control myself and will do something you don’t want?"

"No!"

"Just checking," he said. "Which reminds me," he continued, "I meant to check with you on what you considered a good husband ought to be like."

"There is no such thing as a good husband," I said, mostly to hide whatever reaction I had to his bringing up the subject.

"Ah, so you’re downright opposed to the institution of marriage," he said.

"I just haven’t ever thought about it before."

"Except when Brad was at your house," he pointed out. I felt so outwitted that I grabbed him and tried to wrestle him off the bench.

"You’re not supposed to say things like that!" I said. He laughed at my feeble attempts to topple him over, then grabbed my arms and immobilized me.

"If you’d give me a straight answer then I wouldn’t have to."

"If you’d let go of me I could think straight." He let go and sat attentively, waiting for me to answer.

"I’m not asking for a doctoral thesis; it would be okay just to say whatever comes to mind right now," he said.

I thought for a moment. He really wanted an answer. I still couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that someone was seriously interested in me as a possible marriage partner. But whether I believed him or not I ought to at least give him a courteous answer.

"A husband should be considerate, good-natured, generous, wise and a good father," I said.

"Should he be someone you love?" he asked.

"Oh yes, that goes without saying. But there seem to be different types of love."

"Such as the love you feel for Brad ...."

"I should never have mentioned him!" I said, laughing.

"No, I’m having all kinds of fun bringing him up in the conversation. You never stop reacting to that name."

I pretended to be fed up with him, but I couldn’t maintain it for long. "You must promise never to mention him again," I said playfully.

"I promise," he said. "You once told me I must not mention Oregon, and the next thing I know you’re forcing me to bring you to my apartment to look at a map of Oregon. What does my future hold on this other unmentionable subject?"

"Not that," I assured him. "But maybe you’ll meet him some day, who knows."

"Now, getting back to this important question I asked you... What kind of person do you imagine would be a good husband? I mean, some people like a certain type; like an athletic man, or one with a certain look about him, or with a certain type of profession, or a certain size of bank account, or a certain car. You know, specific things that happen to appeal to you. What are they?"

I looked at him, puzzled. "Nothing like that," I said.

"You don’t have any specifications for a husband?" he said. "How will you know when to say yes?"

The word yes reminded me of the time last week when he’d said, "Now if only I can get you saying yes," and I colored.

"Maybe my father will pick someone for me so I don’t have to worry about it," I said to avoid the question.

"Is that what the arrangement is?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I told you the truth when I said I hadn’t thought much about it. Am I terrible?"

"No, no. I’m sorry if it seems I’m forcing the issue. But if I can at least do you the service of getting your thinking started on the subject, maybe you will end up with a happier future than those who blindly fall into partnerships that make them miserable."

I thought of Shauna’s marriage, and though I would never in a million years be as illogical as that, I could see that anyone could make a mistake, as evidenced by the divorce statistics and various literary works I had read that portrayed tragic relationships.

"Let me try to be more cooperative then," I said. "I really have told you the truth so far. Beyond being intelligent, good-tempered, generous, decent and other general virtues, I don’t think the other specifications are important. A husband would have to be my best friend, though, and laugh and have fun with me. He would have to trust me, and I him. He would have to help me and let me help him. He would have to talk to me freely and let me talk to him. And if he had blonde hair, blue eyes, maps of Oregon and made me feel the most intense sensations when I was near him, that wouldn’t hurt either."

Jake beamed. That was what he had wanted to hear. I was relieved to have that out of the way, and though I had committed myself on a "maybe" basis, it didn’t ruin any of the fun of getting to know him the rest of the summer. I preferred playfulness and humor to heavy romance and Jake let it be that way. He didn’t say until later, but he preferred it also.

Jake still asked me what I wanted him to do that night when we were ready to part, but instead of answering him I just pulled him toward me and kissed him, briefly, then I went inside, brimming again with sensation and needing to be alone to review all that had occurred.

*****

I rode my bicycle to work the next morning, and within a few days I was pretty well used to the routine there. I earned enough money at that job to pay my share of the rent and food, and I signed up for a summer class that I could work into my schedule.

Because Jake worked swing shift I didn’t see him much except on the weekends, and we did spend just about every weekend together. On the one weekend that he had to work, I went into downtown Cleveland with Ann on Saturday, for fun. We were just coming out of a small art gallery when we saw a pedestrian walk in front of a car and get thrown to the ground. Ann ran over to him, and so did another guy who had seen it from the other side of the street.

"Are you all right?" Ann said to the man, who appeared to be unconscious because he didn’t answer.

The other guy grabbed Ann’s arm and signaled her to be quiet, then pulled her out of the way and knelt by the unconscious man.

"What are you doing?" said Ann loudly, and with some irritation, as she was not used to being pushed around. The man signaled to her again to be quiet. She remained silent, but frowned with extreme irritation. She walked over and watched the unconscious man closely.

The unknown guy was taking the unconscious man’s hand and having him touch the ground and various parts of his body. At least that’s all I could see from the sidewalk where I remained. It was a strange sight. After about a minute of that, though, the unconscious man stirred and sat up. He groaned with pain, but wanted to stand up and the unknown guy helped him.

The driver of the offending vehicle had by this time come over to inspect the damage and had also been hushed. The Police had shown up and were now taking a report from him. He was not at fault, as the unknown guy had been jaywalking. The Police arranged for an ambulance.

Ann said to the unknown guy, whose name turned out to be Darius, "What were you doing? Why did you let him stand up? Don’t you know anything about first aid?"

"I know a lot more than that. Let me give you a book. Just a second." He ran across the street and opened his car, got out a book and gave it to Ann. He also gave her one of his business cards and then dashed off saying he was late for an appointment.

"That idiot!" fumed Ann as we got in the car to drive home. She threw the book into the back seat and we drove back to Oberlin. She was still mad when we arrived home and stormed into the apartment. I got the book out of the back seat and placed it on the end table inside.

The next morning I went to church and then stayed all afternoon, catching up on practicing. When I got home, Ann was in her bedroom crying. She didn’t even seem to hear me come in. She didn’t answer me when I asked her what was the matter. I was extremely alarmed. I saw the book she’d received yesterday, on the floor next to her bed where she’d dropped it. She’d evidently read most of it. Darius’ card was lying on the floor next to the book. I picked it up and went out to the other room and called him. I explained that I had just discovered Ann in a crying fit, with "the book" on the floor next to her.