an illnatured woman.
Prior to our marriage I had found her jolly, outgoing, and generous.
Her present surliness, I knew, was due more to my chilly unresponsiveness than to her essential nature.
She had put on weight in the past several years-she was now quite chubby-but I still found her physically attractive, and I knew other men did as well. She was an immaculate woman, and I could not justly complain of her skills as a homemaker.
Recognizing all that, I suppose it was inevitable that my feelings toward her should be edged with guilt. She may have tricked me into marriage, but I bore some, if not most, of the fault for our failure to achieve a reasonably happy family life.
My feeling of guilt was even sharper in my relationship with Chester.
To be honest, I loved the boy and yet could not express or display my love. I thought him handsome, alert, and possessing a delightful curiosity and innate intelligence. Why I could not communicate to him how I felt, I just don't know.
Finally I took up my pen again and resumed planning the ZAP project.
It was a relief. Everything involved would be finite and determinable.
But human relations are infinite, are they not? There is nothing concrete to measure, nothing to weigh. And too often what you conclude from your observations is tainted by your own ignorance and prejudice.
I could study my caged mice, experiment with them, and record the results on videotape. But you can't do that with humans.
Can you?
On the ride home that evening I expressed to Marleen Todd some of my feelings about Chester.
'I know I'm not a good father,' I confessed. 'And yet I love the boy.
I wish I knew how to get closer to him.'
She asked if the two of us had ever done things together.
For instance, had I ever taught him to ride a bike.
No.
'Taken him to a football game? Any kind of a sporting event?
A rock concert?'
'No,' I said. 'I really don't enjoy those things.'
'He might,' Marleen said gently. 'You could ask.'
'Yes, of course. But I have so much work… Oh, Lord, I'm using that as an excuse again.'
'Yes,' she said, 'you are.'
'I'm good with things,' I said angrily. 'I know I am. But with people I'm an absolute klutz.'
'Recognizing that is the first step,' Marleen said.
'Resolving to change is the next.'
'Change,' I repeated. 'I'm not sure I can.'
We were silent a long time. Then, 'Will you help me?' I asked her.
'Yes,' she said, 'I will.'
DR. CHERRYNOBLE. After I was divorced, I moved back into my parents' home-at their invitation-and resumed my maiden name. I had refused to accept alimony MY from Tom, a rather quixotic gesture, so the offer of a large bedroom, study, and bath in a comfortable two-story town house was welcome. The drive to my office took less than ten minutes.
My mother and father were in their late seventies and in excellent health, for which I was thankful. They were careful to respect my privacy, but always ready to provide companionship and counsel when asked. It really was a delightful household, and I considered myself fortunate.
'Would you like to visit my home?' I once asked Chas Todd.
'I think you'll like it. A nice view of the ocean. I can borrow my father's old station wagon, your wheelchair will fit into that.'
'No,' he said. 'Thanks, but no.'
I told him that after listening to eight or more hours of human pain, it was a relief to drive home to the peace and security of my parents' home. I could only wish all my patients had similar sanctuaries.
'I do,' he said, but I didn't believe him.
My work was going well, my income was increasing, I was able to keep up with recent research in my field-so why wasn't I content?
Please notice that I use the word 'content' rather than 'happy.' I have always felt that contentment is a more feasible aim than happiness. To be contented is to be satisfied with one's life.
Happiness is something else.
'Physician, heal thyself.' But in my case it was, Psychiatrist, analyze yourself. I did, frequently, and the reason for my discontent was not difficult to recognize. I lacked a man in my life.
I know there are those, including women, who will scoff at such a lament. Indeed, there are many women who lead productive and contented lives without men. But I am not one of them. I felt the absence of a man as a hunger.
Some of it was physical, of course. That was part of the craving I felt, the need for a naked male body pressed to mine.
The other part was an emotional need, I wanted desperately to love and be loved in return. Not affection, not devotion, but love, mutual and complete. A romantic psychiatrist, you smile? Well, why not?
And so on a Saturday afternoon, I drove out to visit Chas Todd.
He unlocked the door for me, then wheeled over to switch off his word processor. His housekeeper had obviously been there that morning, the barny studio was as clean and ordered as it could ever be.
'Were you working, Chas?' I asked. 'Sorry to interrupt.' ' 'That's okay,' he said gruffly. 'I wasn't really working, just reading over what I wrote last night.'
'How is it coming?'
'I like it,' he said, and laughed. 'And I think you will, too. It's a love story, Cherry.'
'I like it already,' I told him.
'Between a boy termite and a girl termite. My God, you look great today. A luscious bouquet!'
I was wearing a flowered sundress. The back was wholly straps. I twirled in front of him. 'You approve, Chas? ' 'What's not to approve? How about a gin and tonic? ' 'Only if you'll let me make them,' I said and went into his tiny kitchenette. 'I know what I'll get you for your birthday, a set of decent highball glasses. I'm tired of drinking out of jelly jars. When is your birthday? ' 'You've got it in your records, doctor,' he said.
There was an edge to his voice, but I let it pass. I handed him his drink and sat in one of his spindly kitchen chairs. We raised glasses to each other but made no toast. He took a deep gulp, then grinned at me. What a handsome hulk he was! A damaged hulk.
'Feeling all right?' I asked him. 'No nightmares? No depression? '
'Nothing I can't handle,' he assured me. 'I'm fine. What have you been up to?'
'Work mostly. Plus an hour on the beach this morning and maybe another hour or two this afternoon.'
'Yeah, you're getting a tan. But no serious mischief?
'No,' I said. 'No mischief. How about you?' I saw his expression and added hastily, 'I'm asking as your friend, not your shrink.'
He shrugged. 'Friend or shrink, no mischief to report. '
'Drinking?'
'Of course I'm drinking,' he said testily. 'And smoking up a storm.
And thinking lewd, lascivious thoughts. Okay?
'The last part is,' I said.
'You never give up, do you?' he said, shaking his head.
'No,' I said, 'I never do. Tell me more about the boy termite and the girl termite.'
'He meets her, loses her, finally gets her. And they live HEA. That's trade talk for happily ever after.'
'How does he lose her?'
Chas gave me a crooked smile. 'Because the poor schlumpf can't get it up. Even termites have problems.'
'But you said that eventually he gets the girl. How did he solve his problem?'
