The teenagers were so wound up and excited that you couldn't help but have fun. They pitched a tent for the old folks, got a fire going, and sang songs. Not hymns, but silly, stupid songs. The kind that made you laugh until you hurt. Of course, the kids didn't want to sleep—ever. They might just have the stamina to go all night, so Joe insisted that they lay their heads down and prepare to sleep under the stars. There was still a lot of monkey business, but Bev fell asleep anyway.
Sometime between moonlight and dawn they all got very, very wet. There was nothing to do but roll up the sleeping bags and gear and take off. That's exactly what they did, laughing like a bunch of happy-go-lucky idiots rather than bemoaning their lost weekend.
It was early Saturday by the time they got to Bev's house. She made Joe breakfast and they talked for a while about heading up north to join the other party. They didn't talk about it long. They both knew it was a bad idea. It was time for Bev to leave the boys alone for a weekend.
So Beverly and Joe took a nap. No funny stuff, just a nap. And they did Joe's laundry and straightened up the house. Then Bev remembered there was this leak and that crack and a screw loose in more than her head. Joe fixed everything.
When Beverly prepared dinner it was altogether too quiet in the house. Even Joe thought so, but he wouldn't let her cry. She had done more than enough crying and it was time for her to face the fact that the boys were growing up and would be around the house less and less.
Beverly turned on the stereo and then she turned to Joe. She reclined on the couch and he reclined on her. She savored the taste of his mouth; he delighted in hers.
It was all very nice and very natural and very familiar. When you had decided, as they had, to maintain this nice platonic relationship, you kissed until your mouth hurt and then you rolled away from each other and ached until you forgot why you were aching.
Completely unplanned and unprepared and unreasonable, Beverly pushed the preacher off her and bounded off the couch. That was usually his move, but tonight it was hers. And she was dead serious.
“Enough!”
“Okay. Don't get mad. You're right—”
“No, I mean enough of that crap forever. The end!”
“What?” Poor Joe. It was a shock to the system. He was in no condition for a fight.
“I mean that I am thirty-four years old and I was married for nearly twelve years and I'm sick of the frustration. I can't take it anymore, Joe. It's got to stop... or something.”
“Okay, I vote for the 'or something.' Do you want to get married?”
“No!”
“Stop yelling. I can hear you already.”
“I have to yell, it's how I'm made. Now, listen up, Joseph, and hear me out. All this necking is fine for the little teeny-boppers who don't know what they're doing or what's coming, but I'm a grown woman and the mystery was gone a long time ago. This frustration is eating me up. I am ready for a sexual relationship. Now!”
“Are you done yelling?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I think we should wait.”
“For what?”
“For a little something more than wanting to do it,” he yelled back.
“I know you think that. It's like this, chum, I have my reasons for thinking waiting is absurd. I don't want to wait and I don't know when I'm going to be ready to get married. I want to know first if we're compatible, and if you can't agree to that, I don't want to see you anymore. I just can't handle this.”
“I think if you're going to deliver ultimatums like that, I have a right to know the reasons.”
“You won't judge me?”
“Have I ever?”
“Okay, but this is not easy. I had a good intimate relationship with Bob; we were compatible. We were compatible in a lot of ways and one of the most important ways was sexually. After Bob died I had an affair with a man I had known for years. Now, Joe, I didn't just fall into bed with the guy, but we ended up there and it was awful. Really nothing. Joe, I would have married him. I would have married him first if he had wanted that. And I would have followed widowhood with a divorce.”
“So you want to see if I can deliver? Check me out?”
“Don't make it sound so cold. I love you, after all.”
“You thought you loved him.”
“I was wrong. Lonely. Desperate. Horny. Not now. Now I am sure about how I feel about you. But that won't make up for the loss if we can't... you know.”
“And does that solve it then? If we go to bed and it all works out, then are we going to make a real commitment?”
“No deals, Joe. I don't know what this will solve besides getting rid of the frustration. When I'm ready for marriage again, I'll let you know. I'm not ready now.”
“Okay, now calm down and think. What kind of guy was he? Could you tell by his character that he wouldn't be interested in pleasing you? Could you see that he wasn't the type to cooperate and try to work things out?”
“No. He courted me. Babied me. Mr. Congeniality before; a real pain afterward.”
“Do you think I'll turn into a real pain afterward like he did?”
“No, but—”
“Say it, Beverly. The truth.”
“It's ugly. Cold.”
“Just say it.”
“You're a preacher.”
“Coward.”
“Okay, so maybe preachers only do it one way. Maybe it's dull. Maybe they only do it on Saturdays. How would I know?”
“You could ask me. I love you, Bev. I don't advertise, but I wouldn't be opposed to a very frank and honest discussion with the woman I love and want to marry. I'll tell you how I feel and I won't lie. You can't marry me if you don't believe me and trust me—before and after.”
“I've been through enough, Joe. I just can't make any mistakes now. It would finish me off. I have to be sure, really sure.”
“And sex is the big issue, right?”
“Right now, yes.”
“I must have missed a course somewhere. I never would have believed there was so much bad sex floating around. Is that the most important consideration?”
“Now. Right now it is the big issue. I'm sorry if telling you in such a direct way makes me look cheap to you. I don't want that. I'm human. I want. I need. I ache all over just wanting that intimacy I had for so many years. There are other things that are important, maybe even more important, but right now this is top priority. Believe me.”
“What other things?”
“You know.”
“Name them.”
“The boys—your point. Religion—undecided. Finances—that's okay. Family—I don't even know how you feel about having a family.”
“We already have one. I'd like more children, but I don't need more. Even?”
“Even.”
“Then it sounds as if there's very little going against me, Bev. Just this one giant issue. Can't you have a little faith and wait?”
“No!”
“Well, why the hell not?”
“Because life has made me a realist. Sorry, Joe. I've been that 'faith and hope' route and I've been let down. I've been having a hard time dealing with the routine things I should be handling because I'm frustrated. I can't think clearly. I love and want you and you love and want me. I'm not suggesting anything horrible and wrong. I'm suggesting an intimate relationship between two people who love and want each other exclusively.”
“Exclusively,” he muttered. “That doesn't sound very committed.”
“That's all I have right now. I don't want to make promises and deals. I just want to love you. Period.”
“Are you really afraid it would be dull? You've had a little sample, baby. Do you think I couldn't be expressive enough? Ad-lib enough? Eager enough? Is that it?”
“Yes. I'm afraid of that.”
“Maybe you're afraid I don't have enough experience. You've had a lot of experience.”
“Well, after all, Joe, I was married for quite a few years. I know what I'
m talking about.”
“Think you can teach me something?”
“Now you're getting mad.”
“Yes, I am dammit! You're already attacking my performance and you haven't even tried me yet. Let's go”
“Go where?”
“To bed. Come on, baby, show the dull, sanctimonious preacher how to screw. You're the expert!”
“Don't hurt me, Joe. Don't go in there mad.”
“Too late. We're going to check it out, see if it works. I have to do it for you, right, Bev? Have to see if it's okay for you. I'm good enough to play with the kids, good enough to hold you and love you when you're down and scared and lonely. Let's see if good old Joe can pass the final exam. Now!”
Joe was getting pretty good at yelling too, Beverly thought. She followed him into the bedroom. She was scared silly. Her knees were wobbly and her hands were ice cold. Joe was yanking off his shoes angrily. Tearing off his shirt, pissed. Really fuming.
“Well, come on, Beverly, you're the expert. Do something. Strip.”
“Stop it, Joe.”
“No way, baby, there's no stopping it now. This is the big test. You win. I can't let you throw me out. I love you and if I want to stay with you, I have to really perform. Joe, the trained seal. Let's get it on. Let's see if old Joe is any good in bed.”
“Forget it,” she said quietly. “I want love, not war. It's over. We can't cross this gulch. Go home. Lock the door on your way out.”
“No guts?”
“Fresh out. I don't want to force you into throwing away all your purity and virtue and then be the one to watch you crawl out of here and beg for forgiveness. I don't want to be your Eve, Joe. I wanted to love you.”
“You know I wouldn't do that either. I'd never make you witness my sorrow or regrets. I wouldn't make you pay for anything I did. Why do you always pretend you don't know me when you know me better than anyone? Why, Bev? Open your damned eyes!”
That did it. How much hostility was a woman supposed to bear? And who was Joe mad at? Her? She went into the bathroom and locked the door. She didn't want to feel like a cheap whore for wanting the man she loved. She wouldn't come out, she told him, until she heard the door slam. So pretty soon she heard it... and she cried. Again.
Beverly took a shower. She just wanted to be clean before she killed herself. She wasn't about to spend another night alone in that big bed. Why is it that when you love a man he doesn't want to make love to you, and when you don't love a man that's all he wants? Well, maybe one more night, since she couldn't breathe enough water in the shower to drown herself.
Bev didn't want to come out of the bathroom and face an empty house, or her life, but she couldn't stay in the bathroom all night. She was just about ready to stop crying, but not quite. She sat down on the edge of the bed to finish her weeping, when she felt a foot. Some people threatened to wear out their welcome.
It was force of habit actually. Once you got used to falling into the assistant minister's arms every time you were crying, it became second nature. This was the first time he ever yanked off her towel and tossed it aside. She studied the face. The anger was gone. Joe couldn't stay mad for long.
“I'm sorry, Joe. I was wrong. I don't want you to do this. I know how you feel about it and I don't want to make you do something you'll regret. Especially on the threat that we're finished—I can't really give you up. I really do love you. So much. Even if you wouldn't blame me, we'd both know it was my fault. We just have a different point of view on this subject; maybe someday we'll work it out. I don't really want to stop seeing you.”
“That's one thing about us preachers, Bev. When we decide to sin, we think of some very good reasons to justify it.”
“What are your reasons?”
“Do you think I want you any less than another man in the same circumstances might want you? Do you think because my mind is bent to a certain path my body doesn't respond to love in a natural way? Do you think there is no limit to my restraint, my will? Oh, baby, I pray for strength all the time, but I keep loving and wanting you more, like any other man. I love you. I want you to be sure. That's the only real difference between us, Beverly. I'm already sure.”
“Really, Joe? Look at me. Really look. This is how a woman over thirty looks after she's had children. A little saggy, a little stretched, and you might find something else a little stretched too. You should know, Joe. It might make a difference.”
“Oh, yeah? Look what your saggy old body did to the preacher. I think I passed the first test.”
“Oh, Joe.” She sighed. “You're so beautiful. Firm and strong and young and beautiful. You should have a young virgin who is as lovely as you are.”
“I'm old enough. And I've had a few young bodies. I'm looking for something more. I want you, Beverly. And I want you quiet for a change.”
“Joe, I promise I won't be disappointed if it isn't terrific the very first time.”
“That's a relief. It's gonna be lousy. I promise.”
“You're sure.”
“I'm sure I'm going to explode the minute I get inside you. This takes practice, you know.”
“I know.”
“Then if we've covered everything, could you shut up now?”
She could. For a change. For a while Beverly was very quiet because she was simply amazed with the way he took over. Joe had a light and thrilling touch and a knowledge of a woman's body that went far beyond her expectations.
She hadn't really thought it would be dull or boring. She had really thought it might be like this, because she knew Joe a lot better than she let on. And she hadn't thought he'd be disappointed in her slightly worn-out body. It was functional and what she lacked in newness she made up for with experience. Beverly wasn't ignorant of the thrust of a man's hips. She knew them well. And she responded well. Once you're accustomed to that sort of thing, you can let it happen, and if you love the man, it happens quickly. It happens to your body from a place inside your head that grows and builds and expands. And it is beautiful.
Bev was ready for Joe's urgency even before he warned her. She was prepared to help him even when he thought the last thing he needed was help. And he was right about that much. He exploded. But so did Beverly.
Just because you're a preacher doesn't mean you can't rejoice in that kind of pleasure. It doesn't mean you can't appreciate that kind of wild, mad intensity you brought to the woman you love. And the floating back is that much more glorious if you really love her. Softer, sweeter. And what a treat to learn that her cheeks really do flush just like in the dreams. Flushed and pink and fitting very appropriately on the face with the faint smile of success and fulfillment.
So now you have to ad-lib because you never had that experience before. You never had to pass your final exam before. For the first time in your life you brought the most magnificent pleasure created to a woman with whom you were wildly in love. So you kiss her whole body and don't let her jump up and run away because you want to touch her a little more. And you feel terrific and promise more of the same because, hell, who knew you were so good?
“Did you pray for that, Joe?”
“I wouldn't have dared.”
“Are you sorry?”
“No, baby. Not sorry.”
Joe held her close and touched her tenderly for a long time. He was filled with a contentment that his previous encounters with women had been lacking. Even though at this point in his life he doubted the great plan very little, he felt for the first time a profound knowledge of at least part of its purpose. While his body cried out that this was perfection, he was aware of what was missing to make this complete, whole. But the step had been taken, the line was crossed, and there was no retreat. He admitted his hunger and reached for her again.
Beverly yielded herself without thought because she knew this wasn't the kind of thing you could deny. It was the fact that when you thought you had it right you couldn't just lay back and appreciate your good luck, you had to test it to see if yo
u had missed anything. You had to try to get better than perfect.
“Now, that had to be perfect, Beverly. Had to be.”
“Pretty close.”
“It gets better than that?”
Lots of sex made Beverly giggle just like lots of booze did. So she giggled. “I don't know, Joe. I can't say I've had better, but I don't want you to stop trying.”
“Are we going to get any sleep?”
More giggling. Silly, stupid giggling. She didn't seem to be able to stop, so he asked her what was so damn funny.
“The sun's coming up, Joe. You have to go give a sermon.”
“Beverly?”
“Huh?”
“Bev, I really want to hear you say that for about thirty years.”
“Only thirty? Well, I guess even I could use some practice.”
Joe looked at the clock. “It's only five-thirty.”
“Forget it, Superman. I'm shot.”
“I'm too tired to get up. You're bad, Beverly. Bad.”
“You said I was good.”
“You must be because I'm so tired. Let's go take a shower. Don't you have to get up and take a pill or something.”
“Oh, God.”
“Beverly, are you praying?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God!”
“Look, it's okay. I'm sure it's going to be okay. I'll take a look at the calendar, but I'm sure—”
“Beverly, what the hell happened? You were the one who insisted. You made the almighty decision. I thought you were prepared, safe. Bev?”
This was very embarrassing. She swallowed hard and faced him bravely. “Joe, I wasn't. Whatever you must think, I didn't plan what happened last night. All those things I said, well, I meant them, but I didn't plan it. I couldn't bear to see you walk out that door one more night. I never even thought about protection. I just... needed you... so bad.”
“Well, what now, expert?”
“I have a prescription and I'll fill it. I'll take the pill. Now, I can't just start them, you know, I have to wait, and in the meantime you'll have to stop at the drugstore. Okay?”
“Awwww, Beverly!”
“Well, it's the only way, Joe.”