Chapter Twelve
In her Tuesday evening sociology class, Julie learned all about socialization. Professor Powers’ lecture was further subdivided to include behaviorism, social learning, the psychoanalytical view, and developmental theory. Some of these concepts were familiar; she recognized the idea of positive vs. negative reinforcers, for example. Freud’s personality components: The id, ego, and superego also struck chords of familiarity. But the one thing that particularly impressed her, she’d never heard of before — that being Freud’s notion about how society can only succeed in direct proportion to the repression of individual instincts. When followed to its inevitable conclusion, this theory suggests that individuals and societies are diametrically opposed to each other, and the price of civilization is the discontentment of civilized people. Sadly, Julie found it hard to disagree with the great psychologist. From her point of view at least, in this, the world’s richest and most highly civilized country, there was one whole heck-of-a-lot of unhappy and frustrated individuals.
Moreover, this phenomenon can also manifest itself as a displacement of drives and ambitions, such that people end up doing what they do for all the wrong reasons. Consequently, if by some chance we manage to succeed at our endeavors, we are no more satisfied in the end than we were at the start.
Julie wondered why nobody seemed to be doing anything to prevent or undo this effect, if that were possible. Considering all the money and energy spent on studies and programs in America, shouldn’t the most basic human problems get examined and addressed, or at least discussed? The real shame of it was, she reasoned, that regardless of the personal sacrifices made and the price paid by individuals, society was not improving. And few people were better off.
But Julie encouraged herself nevertheless. She wasn’t planning to suffer along with the rest of society. She’d already been there and done that. After experiencing decades of dissatisfaction, she had finally locked onto what she wanted out of life and how to go about getting it. Things were definitely looking up for Julie Baker Predmore.
After another long and exhausting day, sleep came easily. But at twelve forty-two, she awoke suddenly from a dream. As she replayed the episode in her mind, she felt a strange combination of happiness and distress. She and Danny were together, making love — not in their house back in Michigan, however, nor here in her bed where she presently lay. In fact, she could not precisely identify where they were. But they were definitely enjoying themselves, and the lovemaking went on seemingly for hours.
The distressing part was that, try as he did, Danny could not bring her to fulfillment, though he remained patient and unruffled, (quite uncharacteristic of him, she thought). Then suddenly she realized that Danny was gone, and she was left alone.
Wrapped in the bed linen, she felt great joy from their lovemaking, as though she’d been in total ecstasy and beyond. But oddly, she found herself weeping and in despair. And, though she felt herself longing to tell Danny he’d done all right, that she’d been completely satisfied, he was gone. And there was no way to bring him back again. Then she awoke.
She got up to use the toilet and to get herself a glass of water. She was sure the dream wasn’t indicative of anything in real life, just her sub-conscious mind working through the past, confusing the facts, mixing up feelings and desires into some kind of quasi-fantasy. But, unlike most other dreams that fade away the moment consciousness returns, this one remained — in all its glorious detail. As did the feelings of desire she felt deep within herself, both psychological and sexual, an ache in her heart and a burning in her loins.
She climbed into bed once again, covered up and closed her eyes. Immediately, her mind went wandering back through the dream, trying to reclaim more of it, especially the good parts, like when they were joined together in love. Feeling the exhilaration again, she sighed half-audibly and smiled, and then fell comfortably back to sleep.
Wednesday brought the end to four days of showers along the coast. By afternoon the skies would be clearing and the temperature climbing into the sixties. The winds were predicted to increase however, turning easterly and bringing in desert air in balmy gusts.
Julie worked hard on the Williams proposal and had a draft completed by lunch. She found herself daydreaming at her new desk while finishing the lunch she’d packed for herself earlier. She mentally sorted through some options on what to wear Friday while out to dinner with Mike. Not wanting to appear too provocative, she settled on black slacks and a beige safari shirt. Perhaps she’d put on the onyx necklace that Danny had given her for her birthday about a hundred years ago. Fortunately, gold and semi-precious stones don’t age.
With her remaining break time she decided to check her e-mail. Once logged-on, she found the letter which Danny had written last evening. It was captioned — “Friendship and the Future…”
She read with eagerness, once again amazed at how Danny appeared so different, so suddenly communicative. By the end of the letter she was feeling warm on the inside. His words were positive and hopeful, and, though he did restate his hope for a sexual relationship, she felt none of the anger and resistance that had welled up before. She couldn’t argue one single point he’d made. Imagine that, she mused, maybe we’re finally seeing eye-to-eye.
But then she thought, no; that can’t be. He couldn’t have changed that much. It’s got to be the therapy, or maybe he’s being coached. This is just not the way Danny thinks. I should know; I was married to him for twenty years. Sensitive, open-minded, conciliatory... Uh-uh. That ain’t him!
But how was she going to call his bluff?
What a difference a day makes. Everything was suddenly looking up for Danny Predmore, all the way around. After driving to work into a brilliant and blinding January sunrise, he found a parking place just a stone’s throw from the building entrance. Then, by ten o’clock, he learned that two of his recruiters, Gillian and Randy, had each identified a candidate for the Chrysler project. Carly Franklin also put out a job offer to a three-year experienced CAD operator they could use at Ford.
Next, he found a note in his e-mail:
Dear Danny,
Hope you’re having a good day. Thanks for the cappuccino. I really enjoyed the conversation too. I’m praying that everything works out for you with Julie. By the way, does she know you’re coming or are you planning to surprise her?
See you soon!
Valerie
Just before noon his airline ticket to California arrived in the mail. Things are going so good, maybe I should play the lottery, he thought. But instead he bought a newspaper and combed through the personal ads. He wanted to find out what romantically inclined women have on their minds. He was going to fashion himself into the perfect, middle-aged, divorced man.
Before he drove home, he dropped by Barnes and Noble again. This time, however, he didn’t go in for the coffee. Rather, he went straight for the Self Help section and picked out two books: “How to Love a Woman” and “The Consummate Marriage.” Further up the road, he stopped at a supermarket to purchase a load of groceries, enough to last him until the trip. He carefully avoided the junk food aisles. He arrived home before seven.
After thirty minutes on the bike, a shower and a meal consisting of deli-prepared chicken salad over lettuce greens with some low-cal Italian dressing, he sat down to read about relationships.
Danny’s letter bothered her all afternoon. It was as though she were back in the early weeks of last semester’s algebra class and the instructor had given her an equation to solve containing multiple variables, too many for her rusty math skills. She knew there was a method to get the answer, but it wouldn’t come to her. All she could do was stare at the integers and unknowns and rack her brain, but she was no closer to a solution.
And so it was with Danny. Try as she might, she couldn’t come up with a plan to get to the bottom of his motives, test his meddle, find out if he truly had changed or if it was all just a ploy of sorts. And yet, even if that were the case, why was he bothering? What could he possibly want from her, and how was he planning to get it? Nothing she hypothesized made any sense. Maybe she was just tired; perhaps the answer would dawn on her tomorrow, like a sunrise in June.
Not knowing how to reply, she decided to let it ride for a day. There was no urgent need to write him back anyway. But she was still bothered because, while she didn’t want to appear too hopeful or anxious, she also didn’t want him feeling that she was displeased about his new outlook on life, especially as it pertained to their friendship. Something told her that she should be encouraging him, complimenting him. But instead, she opened up her textbook and began to study about socialization.
As she read the material, she projected both herself and Danny into the theories, attempting to relate what she was learning to her present life. She did not perform this reality test intentionally, but Danny’s words were still weighing so heavily upon her that she could think of practically nothing else. Fortunately, less than a half-hour into her study time, the kernel of an explanation emerged. It came out of a section in the text entitled, Symbolic Interactionism, as theorized by George Herbert Mead:
When a person becomes capable of seeing himself or herself from another’s point of view, they are practicing “role taking.” For example, when we compose a letter to another individual, upon re-reading the text we automatically assume the other person’s point of view. If we feel that the message isn’t properly communicated, we go back and revise the letter.
All of us practice role taking every day of our lives, and we are successful in communication and socialization to the extent that we succeed in looking at ourselves from the other person’s perspective.
So that explains it, Julie thought. He’s just had the advantage of weighing his words carefully and being selective about what he says. He’s writing unchallenged, and he has plenty of time to consider what he wants to say.
But even this didn’t account for his sudden interest in her again. Moreover, it was definitely out of character for Danny to work at developing a friendship without ulterior motives, unconcerned about what was in it for him. And precisely because there were still so many unanswered questions leading to the heart of the matter, to what was motivating him, she decided to answer his note after all:
Dear Danny,
You really surprised me with your note. I thought sure my last letter would have gone unanswered. But, it looks like from what you’ve said that we just might have a “future” as you put it. And, though it isn’t much of a relationship to simply write notes back and forth, it’s better than nothing, I suppose.
There’s one thing I have to ask you though. Do you really believe that you and I could be “best friends?” That means we’d want to always please each other, be together all the time and have similar interests and goals in life, not to mention that we’d really like each other — a lot! If we lived close by each other, are you convinced we’d be drawn together again? I wish I could say that I feel that way, but unfortunately I can’t. Not yet, anyway. I do remember the times when we were young and in love though. I think we were best friends then. What happened?
In any event, here’s what my life is all about. I’m taking a big risk here, being really honest with you and all, but the truth is that these things are important to me.
I want to get beyond the superficial stuff, past the idle chitchat and the cheap talk to what is really, really real. And I want you to do the same. After all, you said you wanted honesty in our relationship, and I imagine you were aware it has to cut both ways. So here goes:
My life is not going to be wasted anymore. I’m not going to let myself get dragged into empty, meaningless relationships, void of mutual respect and companionship. It’s my top priority to finish my education, and I also want to find personal and professional satisfaction on my job. I want to stay healthy and fit and live out the rest of my life without unnecessary physical debilitation. I want to develop and keep friendships based upon honesty and emotional oneness. And maybe someday I’ll be financially comfortable as well.
Julie stopped to review what she’d written. As a result of her new-found understanding of the concept of role taking, she tried to project herself into Danny’s mind so as to gauge his reaction to her words. With this frame of reference she recognized something in herself she had never seen quite so plainly until now — she might be equally as narcissistic as Danny has always seemed to be. Nearly everything she had written in the letter was about her — her feelings, her desires, her goals.
What would he think if I sent this? I haven’t written one thing that might make him feel good. Why would he even want me as a friend? She thought a moment about her previous letters to him and came to the conclusion that they had been written in the same vainglorious manner.
Then she wondered if she had always been this way with him. It struck her that perhaps her selfishness had contributed to their undoing. Maybe it wasn’t just Danny. This realization left her feeling cold and heartless, and, for the first time, she felt a sickening remorse over the past, as though everything that happened between them could have been prevented — the gradual falling out of love, the estrangement, his unfaithfulness — but instead, she had just gone on blindly and callously, blaming him. Had she only seen herself in this present light, she surely would have changed, treated him differently, made him want her more. But even that would have been selfish. She would have been doing it mainly to preserve her own sense of well being, not necessarily his.
As the sense of loss deepened, she began weeping, silently at first, then loudly, uncontrollably. She shuffled into her bedroom for some tissues and lay on the bed, still crying, heaving deeply from the chest. Angry with herself, she pounded a fist into her pillow. It’s no wonder I don’t fit-in anywhere. I’ve never learned how to put other people first. It’s always been me, me, me! Thank you Sigmund Freud and George Herbert Mead. Thanks to you brainiacs and your ilk we’re all unhappy and obsessed with sex. And since you were so damn smart in figuring out what’s wrong with everybody, why the hell couldn’t you also come up with some solutions. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
One thing was clear. There was no way she could send Danny this letter. Nor was she in the proper state of mind to write another, more civilized version. Furthermore, she had no idea what she was going to say now, or how she could be both honest and unselfish at the same time. The honest truth was, she realized, that she was not unselfish at all; she never had been, at least not where love and relationships were concerned. This revelation made her wonder how Danny managed to put up with her for as long as he did, and why on earth he would still care.
She would not.