Chapter 3

Three weeks later my boss called me back into his office. “I’m going to give you a shot at that Sales Tech position, if you’re interested. I’m going to break up our best team to allow you to get trained right. In a month or so I’ll move you to the actual team you’ll work on. I’m going to be making some other moves at the same time, so I can’t tell you who your permanent partner will be.”

I swallowed hard and asked, “If this doesn’t work out can I have my old job back?”

“Sure, you’ll have all your options open until the end of your training. If you decide sales aren’t for you right now, it’ll still be great training for where I think you’ll want to grow with us.”

As I left the office, I had maniacal butterflies battling in my stomach. I didn’t mind the little buggers with knives; it was the ones with the war hammers that gave me fits. I’d read “Death of Salesman” in college and the idea of being a modern day Willy Loman terrified me.

On the way home that night I stopped by Barnes and Noble and bought the first two books of jokes I could find. When I actually tried to read them, I discovered that the newest was old when my granddad was a boy. Have you heard the one about the traveling salesman and the farmer’s daughter? I’d yet to crack a smile when Cindy arrived. She had a key, “in case of emergencies” but never used it, always ringing the bell instead.

While I was fixing dinner for us I heard her trying to suppress a laugh. “Did you find one you hadn’t heard?” I asked. One of the things I liked most about Cindy was her easy laugh. I’ve always been a bit on the serious side but Cindy makes me think I’m funny. She’s not in the least silly, but because she’s basically happy she will give a genuine laugh to almost any attempt at humor. Oh, there are exceptions. She never laughs a cruel jokes but even the corniest joke can get a laugh if it’s told straight.

“I love this one, but it’s too off-color for you to use. ‘There was this very naïve couple on their honeymoon. They’d tried everything they could but her cherry just wouldn’t break. Finally in desperation they agreed to go to opposite ends of the room, and run at each other. When the husband was about to make contact he closed his eyes and the next thing he knew, he was falling naked off their second story balcony. The fall didn’t hurt him, but he was at a loss about how to get back to his room through the crowded lobby.

“‘He was relieved to see a doorman with no one around him. He called and when the man came over he didn’t want to explain why he was naked and he didn’t want to send anyone to his room since his bride was equally nude. Instead, he tried a long involved story about being mugged and asked for some spare towels.

“The doorman replied, ‘Hey, no problem just go on up to your room, no one will see you, everyone’s on the second floor trying to get a naked lady off a doorknob!’”

Cindy chortled! I think great-grandfather heard that one in seventh grade but I was surprised that Cindy would tell it to me. As I said we’d had some pretty passionate sessions but she’d never even let me touch her between her legs. Some of what I was thinking must have showed on my face.

“Chris, you’ve never asked me about my past. What was it W. Bush said, ‘When I was young and foolish, I was young and foolish?’ I was very foolish, very very foolish. I haven’t talked about it, but I guess now’s the time we should. If you want names and dates I’ll try, but it will take awhile.”

I was shocked. I was certain she was a virgin. I mean she’s a minister! As she sat there, with that familiar calm expression on her face I knew that I was... “conflicted.” I hate that psychobabble term, but it’s what I was. I felt a surge of jealousy and I knew that details would just make it worse. I also knew that I needed to understand what made Cindy the person she was. Then, before I could make any sort of decision, she answered the question that I wanted to ask most.

“I haven’t been foolish since early in my senior year in college. I haven’t even been tempted until you came into my life, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that it’s never too late to stop being a fool. I don’t pretend to be anything but a constant sinner, but I do the best I can.

“Chris, I love sex and I enjoyed every minute of what I was doing, while I was doing it. It was only later when I counted the cost, that, by the tiniest of margins, I regret what I did. I wish I could come to you without any baggage, but I can’t.”

She searched my eyes, and it took me a few long seconds to realize that she was scared this would make a difference to me. It did, I hadn’t been sure that Cindy wouldn’t be one of those folks who thought sex was dirty or to be done only one way and in the dark.

“I suppose that means you can teach me a thing or two.” I did my best imitation of a smiling leer.

For once she didn’t laugh, “If I ever get married I promise that our wedding night will make my husband’s head spin!”

An awkward silence followed, awkward for me, I’m not sure Cindy noticed. It had been said lightly, but after she’d murmured “I love you” on that Saturday, I’d been struck by the words “If I” and “my husband.” I’d expected “When WE” and “make YOUR head.” I had no right to expect it. I hadn’t told her that I was interested in marriage. Frankly, I wasn’t. What was bothering me was that I wanted HER to be ready.

With a bit of insight, I realized just how much I needed to be loved by someone. I still hadn’t let my parents know where I was. Just before my divorce became final, I got so lonesome I bought a disposable cell phone. When my father answered he practically took my head off, yelling at me for not talking to my mother. Then he blurted something about needing to give Lorelei a chance to talk to me.

I’d hung up just before I’d puked all over my shoes. I knew, not suspect, but knew that both my parents had loved Lorelei more than they had me. She was more their daughter than I was their son. Still, to hear that in my dad’s voice hurt. I’d written an angry e-mail, and then sat on it until I cooled down. I revised it, toned it down some, apologized for hanging up but once again tried to explain how even her name affected me. I sent it using one of the company’s dummy accounts. It went out with no return address, and no one short of the NSA would be able to trace it, and I’m not sure they could.

I think that’s when my pain began to morph into anger. At least I could let my anger convince me that it didn’t matter, I didn’t need them. I didn’t need anyone. Anyone who’s ever taken a stand like that knows it’s not true. I’m not sure you can actually die physically of loneliness, but you certainly can spiritually. Spending time with Cindy let me recover, she saved me. I’d been in spiritual ICU and the end had been near.

Now, as I worked my way back, it was like any other recovery: you paid the price. If your leg goes to sleep, it will tingle painfully as you restore circulation. When you heart goes cold, you feel even more painful needles as it warms.

Always sensitive, Cindy wrapped her arms around me and her hug spoke volumes. I wasn’t alone and even if she wasn’t proclaiming love at every pause in the conversation, I was important to her. Perhaps even the most important person in her life. I wanted that, but I remembered something I’d heard long ago, “If you want to be fully loved, you have to love in return.”

I kissed the top of her head, having to stand on my tiptoes to do it. Have I said that Cindy is an even six foot tall?

She looked up at me, “I love you. It’s okay that you don’t love me, you’re not ready for that yet. For now, it’s enough that I love you. Please don’t let that scare you. I’m not going to push you.”

I kissed the top of her head again. I tried to say the words, but if I had they wouldn’t be true. I didn’t love her, but while I didn’t know if I was the most important person in her life, she was in mine. Sadly, there weren’t even any other contenders.

That night marked a change in our relationship. Cindy didn’t change really, she was perhaps a little more demonstrative of her affections, but there was a real change in me. I relaxed, not as much as around Lorelei, but more than I ever had with anyone else in my life. I was at ease to be myself. It was a wonderful freedom, and Cindy made it clear that she loved the real me even more than the mask I’d allow her to see. Is it harder to trust than to love? I’m not sure.

That didn’t mean that my other relationships were getting better. Two weeks after I started making sales calls with “Call me Bud,” he called upon me for some technical facts in a presentation. On one aspect he stretched the truth beyond all semblance of reality. Then he turned to me and asked that confirm his whoppers. I gulped and did my best to back him up.

The customer didn’t say a word, but rose and walked out of conference room. “Call me Bud” became “Mr. McKindley.”

“You’ve just used your one ‘get out of jail free card.’ I have grave doubts about your ability to do this job, and I’m not sure you should continue with the company. That was a set up, the customer knew that what I was saying wasn’t true, how long do you think it’s going to take for him to trust you? If this had been real, how much money would you have gotten for your integrity?