It s the Small Things That Count Part 5
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It was completely innocent. Pleasant also, to be sure. I'd get home at a bit before five and head to the pool, and Jan would be there. Occasionally the old couple would be there too, sometimes with their son and his wife and a grandchild, but generally Jan and I had the pool to ourselves. That was fine with me. The daily workout, twenty or thirty minutes in the pool, a good fifteen or twenty minutes of fast laps, that was good for me. After a month I noted that I seldom needed to slow down for Jan.
And it was customary after swimming for each of us to retire to our apartments and a half an hour later for me to hear the knock on the door, and Jan would come in and books would come open.
Like this one Monday.
"Jan," I said, "you seem to have a handle on this stuff."
"Uh-huh," she grinned, pulling a paper from her backpack. Squeal! "Look! Another "A"!"
"Am I missing something?" I asked. "Every algebra paper you've brought me has been an A."
"I know," she grinned. "All I needed was a push."
"And science?"
"Here!" Another "A" grade paper.
"What about English?"
"A-minus."
"History?"
"B".
"You're passing, then."
"Yes I am. I've never had grades like this, Dan."
We went through the day's work. I watched. She talked to me through each exercise.
"Jan, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, Dan."
"Why don't I see you going out with your friends? I mean, you're sixteen."
The clouds came over her face. "I don't want to, Dan."
"You don't?"
"No, I most assuredly do not."
"Why?"
"I'm sort of an outsider."
"If you want to talk about it..."
"You never asked..." she sighed. "Kids think I'm supposed to be like my mom. Boys think I'm gonna be a slut an' do anything with anybody. Girls think I'm like that with every boy." Her head bowed and she said quietly, "I'm not, Dan. I'm sixteen. And I'm a virgin. Not a slut." When her head raised, there was a tear running down her cheek.
"I'm sorry, Jan. I didn't mean to make you sad."
"'S okay, Dan. You didn't know. We started talking that one time, is all. And I never told you everything."
"You don't have to tell me anything, babe ... Jan..."
"But I NEED to. I shuttled back and forth between Mom's house and Grandma's all my life. Mom had to go to jail a bunch of times. An' when she wasn't in jail, it was one guy after another. You don't know how many times I went to bed scared that one of her guys'd come in my room at night. It happened. And I screamed bloody murder. I hate guys!"
This was an unexpected turn. I looked at her.
"Not like THAT, Dan. I mean, I hate guys who just want that one thing. And I guess that's the only kind that came home with Mom." She sniffed. "And at school, everybody knows 'her mom is that whore that's in jail' and guys just thought that I had to be like that."
"Every guy is not like that, Jan."
She turned her face toward me, tears tracking down her soft cheeks. "I know, Dan. You're not. I know there are some good ones."
"You'll find one, Jan. Just don't give up. You're bright and pretty and you're worth too much to sell yourself short."
"I won't, Dan. But you know what hurts now?"
"What?"
"Since I don't go out with guys, they're sayin' I'm a lesbian."
"I know it's hard, Jan, but ignore 'em. We're gonna get you through this year of school, and everybody's gonna see your last six weeks' grades and they're gonna wonder what happened. And next year..."
"Next year?"
"Yeah. Next year. If you can do THIS stuff now, Next year you're gonna blow their socks off. From Day One. They can ignore a lot. And they can call names. But they're gonna see Jan on top of the stack in academics. That'll give 'em something to talk about."
She gave one more sniff as a smile crept out of hiding.
"You said I was bright. Like in "smart"?"
"Yes." You needed a kickstart, Jan. Do you realize that we've been at this for four weeks and you hardly need help at all?"
Her eyes were twinkling. "Uh..."
"Don't get me wrong," I said. "I enjoy every day that you and I get together, and I enjoy our swims, and I enjoy having you come over every day, but really, do you really NEED my help? Really?"
Small voice. "Wellllll..."
"I don't want you to stop, Jan. You're sort of my best friend now. I don't know how I'd handle myself if you weren't here every day."
"Me neither," she said. "Grandma just shrugs when I show her my papers and says, "That guy's good for you, huh?"
"I hope she knows what's going on here. School work." And I caught something in her look.
Wednesday she was at my computer tapping out an essay for English.
Thursday evening we were at the table putting the finishing touches on her homework. As she put her books away she paused. "Dan."
"Yes, Jan?"
"Grandma's got a date this weekend..."
"Okay," I said. I knew that her grandma did indeed go out on dates, and most of the time I got a phone call from her telling me that she was going and could I be so kind as to look out for Jan. She'd even given assent for Jan and I to go to dinner and a movie a couple of times. I guess she felt that she was abandoning Jan. But a weekend?
"She's gonna call you," Jan said.
"Why?" I asked.
"'Cuz she's plannin' on my stayin' by myself this weekend. She says I'm sixteen and I should be okay."
"She trusts you," I said.
"I guess so," Jan said, kind of dejectedly. "I don't cause trouble. I don't go out. I've never had friends over. But I've never spent the weekend by myself."
"You don't have to spend the weekend by yourself, Jan. We can go do stuff. Take a road trip ourselves, you know."
Jan smiled at me. "You don't get tired of me? I mean, you see me every day."
"Jan," I said, "you're my best friend. Who else would I do things with?"
"Thank you, Dan," she smiled. "I feel like I can relax around you."
"Me, too. You're easy to get along with." She was. Easy to look at, too, but that was something I just didn't want to address. I was happy with somebody who came over every day to swim with me, then the homework and a little quiet TV watching and chatting about the day's events.
The phone rang. Leona's name was on the caller ID. "Hello, Leona, what's up?"
"Did Jan talk to you already? About this weekend?"
"Yeah, she mentioned you were going for the weekend. A date?"
Leona snorted. "I don't know if I call it a date, but yes, we're leaving after work Friday and we'll get back Sunday evening."
"Okay..." I said.
"Jan's fine by herself, Dan. She's sixteen. And she knows she can call you. You'll be here, right?"
"Sure, Leona. Look, is it okay if Jan and I run the roads together? Like dinner and a movie or whatever?"
"I don't have a problem with that, Dan. You know I told you that she's turned school around. We get along better. I appreciate it."
"Good!" I said. "She helps me out, too. It's good having an exercise partner and a live human being to talk to." I looked at Jan. She was smiling.
Leona continued, "Whatever you two do is okay with me."
I thought that was an interesting turn of a phrase, but in the month or so that Jan and I had been working together, there was never so much as a touch of fingertips. I know I'd sit next to her at the table with her books in front of us, and I could smell her, sometimes just the subtle smell of a squeaky clean teen girl, occasionally a fragile hint of perfume.
Yes, I paid attention. I knew how her hair bounced when she shook her head, and how expressions walked across her face from her eyes to her lips, and the crinkle on her nose when she laughed, and that little crease between her eyebrows when she was determined. I'd seen her dozens of times in that unflattering bathing suit, and I'd seen her in jeans and a sweatshirt, or a blouse, or a jersey. I knew she was dressing deliberately to NOT show herself off, and all that time I was trying not to get THOSE thoughts about this cutie.
And now her grandmother had said "Whatever you two do is okay with me." And I couldn't do a thing, because I knew some of what Jan had been through and the last thing I thought she needed was the guy she'd befriended hitting on her.
"Thanks, Leona. I'll take care of her." I looked at Jan. she was listening in, smiling sublimely.
"'Kay, Dan. Bye!" Leona said.
"Sure! Bye. Have fun!" I turned to Jan. "Your grandmother says I'm supposed to be here if you need something, and it's okay for us to go run the roads together."
Giggle. "I knew she'd say that, Dan. We talked."
"About me?"
"Yeah. About you. She likes you. Says you're good for me." She smiled again. "I think so too." She stood up. Homework was finished. "Wanna coke?" she asked.
"Sure. Let's see what's on TV." And she and I again occupied the opposite ends of the sofa. I had my feet propped up on an ottoman and Jan was turned sideways on the sofa, her long legs filling the distance between us. We watched for an hour, talking about situations as they came across the screen in a sit-com.
"They make some of that look so good, Dan."
"What part?"
"That whole, jumpin' in and out of bed with one person after another. People ain't that mature. I mean, like, maybe one of 'em might think it's all fine, but usually the other wants something more than that." She crossed her arms. That was a registered "And THAT'S the way I feel" pose for Jan.
"I know. Believe me, I know. Sex isn't love, and love isn't sex. But they can go together. But love should come first."
"You got burned, huh?" she asked. "I never asked..."
"No, you never asked."
"Is it something you can talk about? I listen too, you know. Heaven knows, you listen to my story all the time."
"D'you want to hear? Really?" I looked at her. Her face was soft, receptive.
"Yes, I do."
And so I told her about marriage and how two people can go together and then fall apart and one of them doesn't know it. And how empty and heart-rending it can be, trying too hard to find a mate.
"And the last one was over a year ago?" she asked. Her expression was intent.
"Yes," I said. "I've gone out to eat with a couple of ladies I work with, but that's it, just out to eat."
"No, uh, prospects?" she looked at me with a little bit of intensity. "But you like women, huh?"
"Of course," I said. "I just got tired of being used."
"I thought it was men that used women."
"You're thinking about sex, Jan. There's much more to it than sex. "Used" can mean much more. I felt used when the first thing a woman wanted to know was where I worked and if I made good money, and then three dates in, she was pushing marriage. And hadn't bothered to get to know me."
Jan regarded me coolly. "Some guys would think that was wonderful."
"Not me. I want the whole thing. Or nothing. I'm tired of women who think that literature is a subscription to "People" magazine and music is one of the stations on the FM dial and conversation is "He goes, an' she says, an' I'm like..."
Jan laughed. "You've been listening to our cafeteria at lunch, huh?"
I laughed back at her. "Yeah, but it's kind of expected if you're fifteen. It's a drag if you're still that way when you're almost forty and a mother or a professional woman, or both."
"Huh!" Jan snorted. "I hate it when I listen to it at school. It grates on me."
One of the things I noticed in the several weeks of talking with Jan was that she didn't do the "girlspeak" common among her age group. Her vocabulary was more broad than I expected, too. And music. She'd perused my CD collection early on and commented on the dearth of country & western (I thought you'd have THAT) or contemporary, or even oldies. Classical. "Wow! You have a LOT of classical music!"
"Well, Jan," I said, "what do you expect? Really?"
"I know. But I don't enjoy it." She sighed. "I guess maybe I AM weird. Like they say."
"I don't know about 'weird'. I find you intelligent and refreshing to talk with." This got me a smile. "I can talk to you. I don't know if I'd spend as much time talking to any other teen, male or female, like we talk. It's real conversation."
"I know," she said. "You know stuff. And I read the news or whatever, and I can talk to you about it. That's different. I don't know if any of my teachers could do this. I mean, that algebra. I was struggling because nobody really explained it. But you did. And now I get it."
"I'm glad I could help. Getting to have you as a friend makes it worthwhile to me."
"You're a good friend, Dan. It's nice to have someone..."
"You've got your grandma," I said.
"Yeah, I know, but sometimes I feel like if she'd REALLY had a choice, I wouldn't be there. I mean, all my life, she had me, on and off. But just like this weekend. I think that if I wasn't living there, she'd have a whole lot different life. I think I tied her down."
"Tied her down?"
"Yeah. If she hadn't had to watch me, maybe she'd be going out more. Maybe she'd be remarried."
"That's not your fault. Does she ever bring male friends over?"
"Yeah. For supper sometimes. And they watch TV or a movie. Sometimes I even sit in there with them and watch the shows. But nobody's ever stayed overnight, if that's what you mean."
"I didn't MEAN anything. I was just thinking that you don't slow her down that much."
She sighed. "Maybe not now that she's not afraid to leave me overnight. But before, when I was younger, she never went anywhere overnight."
"At least she was trying to take care of you."
"Yeah," she said. "Mom didn't care. She'd drop me off at Grandma's and disappear for days. And sometimes she'd bring one of her boyfriends or whatever they're called, and he'd spend the night. A couple of them moved in for a while. I didn't like it. NONE of them were the kind of guy I wanted to be a friend with, much less call "dad"." Another sigh. "And they weren't bashful, either. I caught her doin' stuff more than once."
'Caught her?"
"Yeah, when I was little, you know how little kids wake up? I woke up and went looking for my Mom, and I saw the light on in the livin' room and walked in on her and some guy. They yelled at me. And it happened more than one time. I learned to stay in my room."
"Uh-huh ... I guess so."
Her blue eyes focused on mine. "I mean, I know about sex and stuff, and I know that people do it, but I'm kind of like, well, I understand what YOU said, that people USE each other. And I don't want to be USED."
"I know," I said. "I know exactly what you mean."
She shook her head, strawberry hair bouncing around her face. "Enough serious stuff." She grabbed the TV remote. "Let's see what's on!"
"Yeah," I said. "You want a coke?"
"Uh-huh!"
I returned from the fridge and handed her a can, then settled back down at my end of the sofa. She ran through the channels until she found something she wanted to see, a documentary on the educational channel. This was a norm for Jan. We'd watch together and talk about what we were seeing. History we'd argue back and forth on, sometimes, about how the story was portrayed on TV, and about how we'd seen it in books.
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