Chapter 28: Battle Lines Are Drawn

Humming happily to himself, Daryl sprinkled a small handful of peanuts over his bowl of ice cream. It was just the way he liked it: a good quantity of vanilla ice cream, smothered in chocolate syrup with peanuts. He rubbed his hands in anticipation of eating it. After putting up the ingredients, he picked up his bowl and spoon to head for the guest room where he could eat it in comfort. He still had some thinking to do about what Greg had told him earlier that evening.

He turned around to find Shirley, seated at the kitchen table, watching him with her head tilted to the side. It reminded him of an Irish Setter looking at its own reflection in a mirror. She had that same look of puzzlement. She looked at the bowl of ice cream and said, “You sure love your bowl of vanilla ice cream.”

Wondering if he was going to have a chance to eat it in peace, he said, “Yes, I do.”

“I heard an interesting story this evening. Would you like to hear it?” she asked.

After looking down at the magnificent creation in his hand, he looked back at her. With a slight frown on his face, he asked, “Do you mind if I eat my ice cream while you tell it to me?”

“Go ahead,” she answered. Once he sat down, she started telling the story about June and Jack. Daryl had finished most of his ice cream by the time she had finished the first part of the story. She looked at him and, wanting to find out what he thought of Jack, asked, “What do you think about the story so far?”

“That woman is crazy,” Daryl said.

Surprised by his answer, she asked, “Why do you say that?”

“He clearly loves his daughter. He’s taking care of his family. He’s providing food, shelter, and clothing. He’s making sure she’s getting the best education that he can. Otherwise, he’d be living in a cheaper neighborhood,” Daryl answered. The tone of his voice suggested that the answer was obvious to anyone who knew anything about men.

“What about when he held his daughter for the first time and the look of horror on his face?”

“That wasn’t horror. The guy was probably afraid that he’d drop the baby. I remember the first time I held a baby. You’d have thought I was holding a cobra by the expression on my face. I was terrified that I’d drop it,” Daryl answered with a chuckle while thinking back to that day.

“You didn’t seem that uneasy with Ted,” Shirley said surprised at his explanation.

“He wasn’t the first baby I ever held. The way my cousins were popping out babies, I had lots of opportunities to hold them before I ever met you,” Daryl answered.

“Oh,” Shirley said. She was amazed at how different their interpretations of the first half of the story were. Shaking her head, she said, “The story ends with the woman finding out that he loved the daughter more than life itself.”

“Of course,” Daryl said.

“He never said that he loved her,” Shirley said trying to point out that there was no of course about the situation.

“Men don’t do that,” Daryl said with a snort. He looked at her and said, “I don’t tell Ted that I love him. I tell him that he’s done something well. I tell him that I’m proud of him when he does something right. He knows what I feel.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. You can ask him if you want,” Daryl answered. Sitting back in his chair, he said, “You know my Dad never said anything like that to me, but I knew that he loved me. He showed it to me every time we were together. Sometimes when I had won a game or something, he’d pat me on the shoulder and I’d feel ten feet tall.”

It didn’t make sense to Shirley. She couldn’t imagine going through life with someone and never telling them that you loved them. It shocked her that Daryl thought it was perfectly natural. Confused, she asked, “Did he ever ask you how you felt?”

“Well, if I hurt myself he’d ask me how it felt,” Daryl answered forgetting completely about Greg’s advice.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I twisted my knee, he’d ask me how it felt,” Daryl answered.

“How about how you felt about getting injured?”

“Why would he ask something like that? He knew exactly how I felt. If I had been doing something stupid when I got hurt, I felt stupid. He’d even tell me, ‘Boy, I bet you feel stupid.’ If someone hurt me intentionally, I’d be angry. He’d tell me, ‘Boy, I bet you’re pissed off.’ He was always right,” Daryl answered wondering why she would ask such a stupid question.

Shirley shook her head in dismay. Getting out of her chair, she said, “I feel confused.”

Daryl stared at her trying to figure out what her problem was. Greg’s advice came to mind. It was almost too late to help, but he decided to try it anyway. The problem was that he didn’t exactly know how to ask her about her feelings. Taking his best shot, he asked, “In what way are you feeling confused?”

It was the right question to ask. Shirley relaxed a little and answered, “My understanding of the first half of the story was exactly the opposite of yours. While I was listening to it, I kept thinking that I couldn’t live with a man like that. The sad thing is that ever since Ted was attacked I have been thinking that you were just like that man. I felt like I had wasted my youth on a man incapable of caring about his family.

“Then when I heard how much he did love his daughter, I almost couldn’t believe it. It made me question what I was thinking about you. It made me think that you were more like the guy in the story than I even realized. The man wasn’t at fault. The fault was in how the women in his life had viewed him,” Shirley said. Biting her lower lip, she leaned forward and then asked, “Are you like the man in that story?”

“I suppose I am,” Daryl answered wondering how his love for his son could have ever been in doubt.

Nodding her head, Shirley found that she agreed with him on that matter. She asked, “Do you think I am like the woman in the story?”

“I don’t know,” Daryl answered softly.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Shirley asked feeling hurt. She had hoped that he would answer that she was like that woman. It would mean that it was a lack of understanding rather than something even worse.

“She lived thinking that way for seventeen years. You didn’t go a day without mentioning it to me,” he answered. While he felt it was pretty bad that the other woman didn’t think her husband loved his daughter, he felt that it was worse that his wife didn’t believe him when he said he cared.

“Oh,” she said with a sigh of relief.

“There’s more to my answer, though,” Daryl said puzzled by her sigh of relief.

“What?” she asked with evident concern.

“I still think that our marriage has been rather shallow,” Daryl answered with a sigh. He could see his way to forgive his wife for not understanding him, but their current problems had only identified a more significant problem in their marriage. He wasn’t going to be satisfied with going back to once a week sex on Tuesday nights with her just lying there and barely participating.

“Oh,” Shirley said. She had hoped that all would be forgiven and forgotten. Wanting to run out of the room, she stood up. With all of the self control that she could muster, she didn’t flee. Swallowing heavily, she said, “I hope you forgive me for not realizing that you really did care.”

“I forgive you,” Daryl said.

She started clearing the table feeling the need to move. Once the table was cleared she turned her back to him and started to rinse the bowl that had held his ice cream. In a slightly strangled voice, she said, “I need to think about the other stuff for a while. Maybe we can talk again tomorrow night.”

“I’m ready to talk to you whenever you’re ready to discuss our marriage,” Daryl said with a heavy heart. He had hoped that she had already given thought to what she wanted out of the marriage. Disappointed, he rose out of his chair and headed out of the kitchen.

Shirley nearly crumpled to the floor once Daryl had left the room. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she knelt on the floor and covered her face with her hands. The fact was that she didn’t understand what he wanted from their marriage. She couldn’t think of anything more she could provide that wasn’t already a part of their marriage. She wanted things to go back to how they had been. They each had their roles, they each knew what was expected of them, and it hadn’t been that bad.

Being a wife, mother, and housekeeper defined her in a way that women had been defined for centuries. Between sobs, she wondered why it was wrong of her to want what women have had since time immemorial. A wife stood by her husband, supported him in what he did, and did what he wanted. A mother bore children, took care of them when they weren’t able to care for themselves, and raised them to be productive members of society. As a woman, the house was her domain and she was proud of her house.

She blamed the women libbers for the sad state of the world today. Women had to make choices that weren’t fair to women. A woman shouldn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to be a housewife rather than a career woman. The fact of the matter was that she liked being a housewife. She resented anyone who suggested that she could have a more fulfilling life outside the home.

Of course, the one thing that bothered her the most was the change in sexual mores. A woman shouldn’t have to turn into a slut because someone else was prattling on about the sexual revolution. Making love was supposed to be the most intimate sharing between man and woman, not some sort of Saturday afternoon entertainment.

Shirley didn’t believe that she was an unattractive woman. Quite the reverse was true. She knew that she was a very attractive woman. She just didn’t think it was necessary to dress up like some sort of tart and prance around to get the attention of her husband. He was supposed to approach her body like it was a shrine. She never denied him entrance to the shrine and, as a good husband, he should have been grateful for that.

Sex was the area where being a proper wife to a successful man required sacrifices on her part. Shirley believed that only ignorant and poor women allowed themselves to lose control over their sexuality. Intellectuals and the wealthy remained above the baser feelings. That wasn’t to say that she hadn’t come close on several occasions, but she had a strong will and had clamped down on her emotions. It was important to her to remain a proper wife to Daryl.

Sitting in the guest room, Daryl was thinking about his marriage. Both of them had both been virgins when they were married. The first few times together had been rather disappointing for him, but it had gotten better after a while. She was never all that active in bed. If he had to choose a word to describe how she made love, that word would be passive. Other men might think she was frigid, but they would have been wrong. She just wasn’t expressive.