Читать книгу The Prisoner’s Cross - Peter B. Unger - Страница 11

As Don had noticed numerous times there was something about Wendy’s teasing flirtatious manner which conveyed an interest him while at the same time kept him at a distance. Did she see him as a kind of bad boy, the only redneck on campus who somehow attracted her and repelled her at the same time. Don still hoped, however conflicted she might be, that on some level she was attracted to him. By the way she spoke and carried herself Don suspected she came from a middle- or upper-middle-class background. Her speech had none of the Southern colloquialisms he so commonly heard in many of the people he had known from more working-class backgrounds. Her tastefully casual dress made her look as if she could appear at a semiformal event, including worship, on short notice as is.

Don by contrast most often wore jeans with a shredded hole in one knee, and during the winter, a leather wool-insulated coat with a hoodie underneath. Through spring, summer, and fall, he wore a baseball cap, which he often wore backwards. This was a habit formed in high school which now had the unintended effect of making him look somewhat juvenile. When they would walk down the steps together from class, or approach each other from opposite directions on the quadrangle slowly and greet each other, the sheer contrast in their manner and appearance occasionally drew attention. Even knowing how different they were Don could not help himself, he had to make an effort to find out once and for all if Wendy had any interest in him.

One foggy morning, early in the new semester, Don was walking across the quadrangle toward the cafeteria and spotted Wendy walking with another young woman ahead of him on the sidewalk. He walked quietly behind them, so as not to draw attention, without a plan in his head of what he would say. As the young women approached the steps to the cafeteria building Don impulsively called out to her, “Wendy, wait up.” Wendy, looking mildly startled, turned around and seeing Don smiled, but not quite as warmly as she usually had. She then whispered something to her companion, and the other girl headed up the stairs into the cafeteria by herself.

Wendy appeared to wait patiently, but with a certain lack of anticipation, as Don approached. “Good morning,” Don said as he greeted her. “Good morning, Don,” she said with her usual polite pleasant Southern drawl. Don drew a deep breath and took the plunge. “Wendy, we keep running into each other, and seem to hit it off.” As Don spoke these words, he thought to himself surely there must be a better way to get out what he was trying to say. Don plowed ahead, “Anyway, I wondered if we could grab a bite in town, and maybe catch a movie afterword sometime?” There, Don had said it, done it, for better or worse. Wendy gave him a serious searching look for a few seconds, but for what seemed to Don like forever. She then said, “Sure, I guess that would be okay.” Although Don was relieved, there was something about her response that seemed less than enthusiastic. “How about this Friday? We could walk into town together and grab a bite at the local diner. I think Star Wars is playing at the theater up the street.” “Yes, Don, that would be fine,” Wendy replied. “We can meet here in front of the cafeteria at six if you like,” Don suggested. “Sounds like a plan,” Wendy responded, quickly adding, “I promised my friend I would have breakfast with her, I’d better join her.” “Of course, I understand,” Don replied as he walked up the steps with her. As they parted ways, Wendy glanced sideways at Don and gave him a congenial smile.

Tom was working the early shift. Don loaded up his plate at the serving line and then carried his tray back to the corner staff table. Now that the deed was done Don was worried that he had totally misread Wendy. This was beginning to feel like a pity date. The girls he had dated back home had been more down to earth and unsophisticated than Wendy, but had a more unaffected and honest way about them. While Don had been attracted to Wendy’s high-class sophisticated manner, he was also beginning to realize that, at least with her, such a persona made it harder to read where she was coming from. This left Don feeling like his normal radar for such situations was not working, which left him feeling particularly vulnerable with a girl like Wendy.

They met by the seminary steps that Friday at six as planned. Wendy was her usual polite but formal self. On their walk into town Don was determined to learn something more about her even, though, unfair as it might be, he knew he would remain somewhat guarded about his past, or at least the more traumatic elements of his past. If this was a pity date he in no way wanted to play off that. As they walked toward town, he asked her, “So I detect something of a Southern accent, where are you from?” Don knew he had asked her this before but could not recollect her answer. “Cleveland, Ohio,” Wendy responded. “I was actually born in Texas, but my Dad’s job took him to the Midwest when I was a teenager.” Wendy then proceeded to politely inquire, “And where are you from again, Don?” “I am from a little town in Eastern Kentucky called Boden,” Don replied. “I could tell you have a Southern accent as well,” Wendy followed up. After an awkward pause in the conversation Don asked, “You’re a year ahead of me, how are your studies going?” “I have an uncle who attended the seminary over a decade ago, he told me that the academics here were rigorous, so, I came prepared to study hard.” As they approached the diner in the center of town Wendy remarked, “So Don, how are you adjusting at the seminary, you seemed like you might have had some trouble at first?” Don was taken aback by the question. Had she heard about the incident in Wilson’s class, or had he appeared to be more of a loner, and misfit than he had thought? With a slightly defensive tone Don replied, “Well I guess, I mean, I am not from the same background as many of the students here.” “What background are you from?” Wendy asked. Don was getting uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, afraid that it might lead down a path and to topics he did not want discuss. Fortunately, they had arrived at the restaurant, and Don deflected the question by saying, “Well we’re here.” He then held the door for Wendy as she walked in. After being seated, and ordering drinks, Wendy a diet coke and Don a coffee, they perused their menus. Don remarked, “Well I know what I am going to have, how about you?” In a quiet voice Wendy responded, “I think I know too.”

After the waitress took their orders and was walking away Don veered the topic of conversation in a different direction. “So Wendy, you have one year left after this one, are you thinking of going into parish ministry?” “I hope too, although it can be hard for a woman to get a church, even in our tradition. I may have to start as an associate in a larger church. How about you?” Wendy reciprocated politely. “I am not sure yet, but I am leaning more in the direction of teaching,” Don responded. Don continued to ask Wendy questions about her background and interests. Frustratingly she never seemed to offer him more information than the question required. Nor did she ask him any more questions about his background. The information Don did garner from his questions indicated, not surprisingly, that Wendy was from an upper-middle-class background, and that her father was some kind of corporate executive. Her parents had been Episcopalian but had joined the Presbyterian tradition when their children were small.

The movie theater was only a few blocks up the street from the restaurant and on the same side of the street. So as the 6:30 show time neared both agreed they should head out. Taking their seats in the crowded movie theater Don helped Wendy take her coat off. Don’s radar had begun to function again, and he had already decided not to attempt to hold Wendy’s hand, or make any other moves that could be construed as romantic on the date. They watched the movie, eyes straight ahead, throughout. Fortunately, it was a great movie and was been enjoyable in and of itself. When they came out of the theater the evening had grown colder, and on the walk back to the campus they walked a little closer together. They made polite conversation about the movie, talked about how good it was, and shared their favorite parts. Don walked Wendy to the front of her dorm. She thanked him for the evening. Then Don, even though his radar, which now seemed to be working and was instinctually warning him about pursuing the relationship any further, impulsively asked, “Would you like to go out again sometime?” “Don,” Wendy replied in a serious, concerned tone that Don sensed in the pit of his stomach would end in rejection, “you’re a nice guy and I needed an evening out, but until recently I have been in a serious relationship with another student on the campus I met last year. We were even considering becoming engaged. I am just not sure where things are with that relationship, and it would not be fair to you, or anyone else, to date until I know where things stand with this relationship.” Don swallowed hard. Even though he knew she was letting him down easy, he had just lost all hope of having a relationship with Wendy, and it hurt to hear her confirm it out loud. Don smiled weakly, and said that he understood, and then thanked her for the evening. As Don walked slowly across the quadrangle back to his dorm, he felt a dark cloud of depression descending on him once more. He wondered if this depression would lift enough for him to continue to maintain a positive attitude toward his studies and life on campus.

When Don entered his dorm room, David, as usual, was reading in his armchair and smoking his pipe. He greeted Don with a cold politeness. In hindsight, Don began to see something of the same disingenuousness in Wendy, although nowhere near as blatant or cold as with David. Don clearly saw how the formality of that politeness and friendliness could be used to create a wall between them and others. Don realized too that he did not know David any better now than the first day they had met, and he suspected David preferred it that way. Don too had walled people out, but he had done this to protect himself from feelings stemming from traumatic experiences. With them such behavior seemed normative and socially conventional in varying degrees depending on the type of relationship.

A couple of weeks passed by quickly as Don, more through a force of will than anything else, immersed himself in his studies. His theology classes focused heavily on the great thinkers of the Middle Ages, like Augustine and Aquinas. This did not interest Don as much as the more contemporary theologians Soren Kierkegaard and Paul Tillich. Don had also hoped to learn more about the secular atheistic writings of Nietzsche and Sartre but knew they would not be covered in any seminary theology class. Fortunately, his Philosophy of Religion class focused on relevant philosophers and theologians from the enlightenment era to the modern era. The syllabus had indicated that the course would touch on these philosophers as well as Soren Kierkegaard, all of whom Don had been introduced to in his college philosophy course. The secular and atheistic writings of Nietzsche and Sartre, and the non-doctrinal theological writings of Tillich and Kierkegaard, had freed Don to ask the deeper questions about the pain and suffering with which he was struggling.