Relationships Mean Differences Not Intolerances (X and Y; Y and X)

[ALLUSIONS TO SEX]

X and Y; Y and X

"What will we do with all these balls you have here?" Your hardball, footballs, volleyball, basketball, pickleball, squash, and tennis," Sarah innocently asked of Herman, her soon-to-be husband, the very first day they moved in together during her second year of medical school.

"Balls are overrated."

"What do you mean? Of course, they aren't," Herman said.

"They most certainly are. You know as well as I do that they are useless in the grand scheme."

"Sarah, you need balls to play well; I'm telling you, I need them."

"You'll never get them back now," Sarah told her new partner, Herman.

"But what do you think will become of me without them?"

"You'll be fine. You'll see. Lots of ladies have their husbands in their possession."

"Well, I don't like it. The guys and I want to go to the game Tuesday night. Is that going to be a problem?"

"I'll let you know. Right now. No."

Sarah, a freebird, dated Herman after the first year of medical school. They both had a knack for efficiency and each other's finding time to socialize. They were straightforward with each other about most of their comings and goings and rarely had conflicts.

Shortly after Herman mentioned marriage, Sarah, spooked by the word, became someone else. She didn't go out much anymore; she rarely wanted to spend free time away from Herman. And she talked only of the two of them going places together.

The wedding plans were elaborate, and their head table was just them two. Enthralled with their partnership, all witnessed the blissful duo growing increasingly joyous in the weeks leading up to the nuptials.

Herman couldn't help but feel a heavy weight at times. It was difficult for him to explain, but it gripped him in his neck of all places and weighed his pants down. It could've been a slow tear or a deliberate cut, but neither knew then what was happening.

Sarah felt it, too: the transference of power. She didn't want the responsibility but knew she had to do it. She kept her thoughts to herself. But she anticipated conversing with Herman about it at some point before they wed.

"Herman, we need to talk. I fear something is wrong with how things are going between us, and I can't place my finger on it."

"Yes, I agree. Entering a marriage with something like this could be disastrous before it begins for the marriage."

"Well then, let's make a reservation at Chez 56 and have a proper sit-down full five-course meal."

"Yes. I'd like that. We'll put all our cards on the table."

"Oh, Herman, maybe you'll get something back you've been looking for for a long time."

It wasn't quite the dinner hour, so Herman called Sarah. He had been drinking with pals.

"Sarah, I'm sorry, love, I can't make the dinner. The boys came to get me after work, and we're on a bike tour of the city."

"Not the bike and booze tour, are you?"

"We sure are."

"Well, have a great time then," she slammed the phone down after hanging up on him. It was a bittersweet ending."

When the phone call ended, the guys could tell something was off with Herman.

"Herman, come on. She's not mad at you again? Geez, man. You're not even married yet."

"Yeah, man. Maybe this one isn't right for you after all."

Herman paused and said, "Let's get off this bike tour and hit a bar."

The men got off at the next corner and hit a bar. They weren't in the bar for 15 minutes, and Herman saw Sarah's car pull up outside.

"Right, lads. I'm out of here. I'll meet you at the bar across the street. Keep my phone."

He gave his phone to his friend and ducked out the back door as Sarah entered the bar's front entrance.

"Hey Sarah, how's it going? Want a drink?" One of the guys said to her.

"No, thank you. I'm looking for Herman. His phone says he's here. Where is he? In the toilet?"

"Who knows? After he spoke to you, he gave us his phone and left."

"He did? Why?"

"I guess he thought you were angry with him."

"Not at all; I came to drink with you, fellas, before I hit the theatre two blocks down. Why on earth would I be angry with Herman?"

"You mean you don't get angry with him when he goes out with us?"

"No, never."

***

"Something is wrong, then. Herman's been telling us you've been busting his balls over everything. He keeps odd hours, and he doesn't tell anyone the truth. When he says he's with us, he uses that as an excuse to take off. When he says he's with you, he uses you as an excuse to avoid us. What is going on with that guy?"

They crossed the street and went into the bar. She saw him there with another woman. He didn't see them. He was giving her money. The guys approached him and her.

"Herman, what is going on here?"

"Oh, hey guys, this is my sister, Danny. I'm trying to get her to come to the wedding. I've been meeting her weekly since I found out about her. She was given up for adoption because my parents were divorcing and didn't want another child."

“Oh, is that all it is?” the guys laughed. 

Sarah entered the bar and sat down next to the guys. 

“Hey everyone, what’s so funny?”

***

Hulga hobbles to the town square for the local lottery. Her hair was wild from rolling in the hay and blowing in the wind. Her face was dirty, and filthy clothes covered her body like drapes hanging on a window too large for the curtains with the same clothes she wore yesterday. She was obstinate toward her mother before she left their fight over the man who stole her prosthetic leg. He took it while she slept. 

“Mean old Hulga lost her leg and had to hop into town.” The boys teased her as they grabbed the sharpest rocks when they saw her nasty smile toward them. 

Snot smeared across her face, and her eyes were blue with blurry spots. Her cane slowed her down. She had been without her prosthetic leg before. As she half stomped toward town, she talked to herself, her favourite pastime since she had no friends and hated her mother. 

“Why? Why did that prick have to steal my goddamn prosthetic leg? What am I going to tell people?”

“‘You should’ve thought of that before you asked him to go out with you to do your chores,’ Mama said. How dare she? That crochety thing! Imagine. I had more fun in one night than she’d ever had in her whole life. Or did I? He did take my leg!”

Hulga, disconnected from her peers a while ago, knew she was in for a bruising of insults when she got to town. It always happened that way, and she always said the same things. If only there could be a change somehow. 

“All right, everyone. Gather around for the lottery,” Mr. Summers called out. 

“Hold up, please. I’d like to volunteer for the winner, please,” Hulga blurted out. 

“What do you mean?” He said.

“You?” Another person said.

“Haha, I don’t think so. You have to be whole to be picked for this lottery.” One of those bratty boys said.

“Yeah,” said another. 

“Well, what do you say, Mr. Summers? You hold the black box, don’t you?” Hulga challenged the man in front of the entire town. Something nobody had done before.

“Yes, I do, young lady. I say you are not allowed.” And he pulled a name.

***

The following month, Hulga arrived early to be the first in line for the lottery gathering. She wanted to ask the crowd gathered if they would consider a different form of lottery this month. She had figured out that it might cost each household five dollars for her to purchase another prosthetic leg. But she knew she had done nothing to earn the right to ask that of the townspeople. She approached Mr. Summers, who had seen her standing there, and tried to avoid her until he couldn’t any longer. 

“I hope you can help me today, Mr. Summers. How are you?” Her tone had changed, and a clean girl stood before him who didn’t look so wild or angry anymore. 

“Why, Hulga, it’s nice to have you back. I was worried you’d be gone forever.” He reached for her and hugged her. She embraced him and shed a tear. “I’m sorry for talking that way to you last month, but it seems to have done the trick.”

Others started arriving, and as they did, Hulga and Mr. Summers welcomed them all with a warm greeting. Someone yelled out a few things that weren’t so nice, but they were ignored, and it stopped. 

“I am here today to volunteer my name for the lottery,” Hulga said from Mr. Summers’ side.

“Look, we don’t want that, and you shouldn’t either. We already dealt with this; you shouldn’t attend these monthly meetings because they don’t pertain to you,” a woman said. 

“Yeah, we already told you it’s because you’re not whole and have a different look about you that we can’t accept you. Sorry,” another man said. 

A man in his middle age stumbled around the crowd with a bottle in his hand and a Bible in the other. He was dressed in black with a white collar. Even though he wore a hat, you could see his greased-back hair. 

“I want to say something about what’s going on here with this issue with the lottery,” Reverend Brown said. 

“Oh my God. He’s drunk,” Mr. Summers said. 

It is absurd to make fun of this young woman because a stranger tricked her into giving up her prosthetic leg, and now she isn't whole. He paused. “I mean, honestly. Look around you, people.” He paused again. “I see big ears, big bellies, large noses, large feet, bald heads, thick heads of hair, tall and skinny people, etc., all imperfect in some way or another.” He paused again. “To alienate one girl because of her leg seems ridiculous and petty. And I urge you to think about this.”

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. And judge not lest you be judged.” He hiccupped and then turned to see Hulga's parents walking this way.

Her mother yelled, “Hulga, darling, we’re proud of you,” her mother called from the crowd. Her father whistled. The two joined hands and walked up to where she stood with Mr. Summers. 

“I love you, too. But I have a mission today,” she held up her hands to quiet the crowd.

“Oh, what is that?” Mr. Summers said.

“I’m asking if everyone involved in the lottery would donate five dollars per household to purchase another prosthetic leg for me this month.” She paused to wipe tears from her eyes. “I know it’s asking a lot, and I don’t deserve to ask, but I’m sure I’ll be able to repay everyone once I get my leg.” She broke down into tears. Mr. Summers held her up. 

The pastor removed his hat and said, “I’ll collect the money here. Mr. Summers will check off your name so we know who Hulga has to repay when the leg comes in.” The preacher knew just how to rouse a crowd and get them to loosen up their wallets and purse strings. 

People stood in line to donate. Some donated more than they were asked to give. Everyone felt her pain. Women were moaning, and men were shaking their heads and talking about finding this guy who stole her leg. 

But it didn’t get to that, in the next town over. The man stopped at the local bar and bragged about stealing a young girl’s leg. Everyone in the place kept their eye on him all night. When he got up to leave, the boys playing pool locked the door to get out. The men formed a circle around the man. 

“Is there something you think is wonderful about stealing a girl’s prosthetic leg?” the barkeep said. A big, burly man who chopped his firewood every day to keep his house warm.

“No. I don’t have a beef with you or any of you,” the man said.

“Well, that’s where we differ. You see, where we come from here in this town and the one just over, from whence you came, we don’t do that stuff to young girls. Understand? I think you and I will ride back to that town to that young girl’s house so you can return what you took.”

“I’m not doing that. Sorry.” 

“Oh, you see. Silly you. You thought that was a choice, did you? It’s not. Boys, hogtie him and put him in the trunk.” 

***

When they got to Hulga's, she could see the car a long way out but didn’t recognize anyone inside. She was cautious after what happened with the other man who came to her home, feigning to speak to her Papa.

“Afternoon, I’m looking for Hulga,” the man said. “I have someone here who’d like to return something to you. Boys.” 

The trunk opened, and the man got out with the prosthetic leg in his hands. He walked up to Hulga and gave it to her. 

“Oh, now see. I didn’t hear any apology. Did you Hulga?” 

“No, sir.”

“I’m sorry, Hulga. I shouldn’t have stolen your leg. If you want to repay my debt, I can work here.” 

“Get out of here and off my property. I never want to see you again,” Hulga’s father said with his shotgun in his hand. 

The men grabbed the man and shoved him into the car's trunk again. 

“Don’t you worry about him, none, sir. We’ll take care of him for you. And we’ll put him to work, too. Y’all have a great rest of your evening.” 

***

The soon-to-be-married couple took a drive out into the country, looking for a place where they might find a suitable home to raise youngsters and grow old together. Herman and Sarah did not grow up on a farm, but they thought the idea was romantic and that a hobby farm might do the trick and keep Herman’s mind off those sports he always wanted to play to stay in shape. 

“It seems as though there aren’t a lot of homes for sale in this area. We’d better pick the best out of the lot we’ve already seen, don’t you think?” Herman said as they pulled into Peg’s Diner to grab a bite. The drive-in restaurant allowed them to discuss their business without too many people overhearing what they did in town. But everyone knew they were new.  

“You two lost or just out for a nice drive for the afternoon?” Their waitress said, trying to be friendly. 

“We’re looking for houses to buy, but there doesn’t seem to be many for sale here,” Herman said. 

“Oh, that’s ‘cause most people list them in the magazine “Our Town” and don’t bother with signs on their front lawns. Everyone who lives here stays where they grew up for the most part.” She smiled at them. 

“Is there some way we might get a copy of the magazine you mentioned?” Sarah said.

“Of course. Let me take your drink order and tell you the specials, and then I’ll bring you the magazine when I bring you your drinks.” The girl chewed gum, but her uniform was pressed so neatly. “Let’s see; we’ve got liver and onions mashed with roast beef, chicken pot pie, or beef Wellington. All specials cost the same amount, including a dinner roll and a cup of soup. The soup today is minestrone. We have Coca-Cola, Pepsi, and milk to drink. Do you need a few minutes, or are you ready to decide?” 

“I think we’ll both have a Coke, please, and the chicken pot pies. Thank you,” Herman said. 

“Got it. Coming right up.” She left to enter the restaurant, and they watched her put a magazine onto a tray. Then she stacked their drinks and then the orders after that. “Here we are.” 

“Great. Thank you.” Sarah said. 

For the moment, they ate and didn’t pay much attention to the magazine. The thick book kept the front of the car clean since there wasn’t a spot for Sarah to eat. If she used her side window, then she couldn’t see Herman. They finished eating, and the waitress came around and asked, 

“Is there anything else I can get you two this evening? We’ve got three homemade pies: cherry, blueberry, and peach, and they all come with ice cream,” she smiled and tilted her head as if to get them to follow her lead. 

“Not for me, thank you,” Sarah said. 

“Me neither,” Herman said. “I’ll just take the bill, please.”

They looked through the book while they waited for the waitress to return with their bill. She took a few minutes since two carloads of boys pulled in and were loud and demanding. She looked nervous about serving all of them at once, but she knew it was her job, so she did her best. 

About ten minutes went by, and she brought the bill. She looked a little concerned, and her hair had fallen a bit out of the neat ponytail braid she had in when she served them. 

“Oh, hey, listen, my boss says y’all can have the magazine. Here’s your bill. It’s even $4.00,” she said. 

Herman pulled out a five-dollar bill and told her to keep the change. She deserved it after looking after that crew. He tilted his head to where the boys were waiting in their cars for food, loud and fussing about everything.

“Oh, thanks. Tell your boss we appreciate that,” Sarah said. 

They said, “Good-bye now,” and drove off until they found a church parking lot. They pulled over and studied the town map at the front of the book. Out of the corner of Herman’s eye, he thought he saw a young girl with a prosthetic leg walking toward their car. The same girl had waited on them at the car hop.

“Hey, you two. You can’t park here. It’s after hours. This is a no parking zone after 6:00 pm,” she said. Her arm circled the entire parking lot of the church. “Can’t y’all read?” She pointed to a no parking sign after 6:00 pm. 

“Oh, sorry about that. We’re not from here and just wanted to look at some houses for sale.” Herman said, showing the book like she wouldn’t take their word for it otherwise.

“What kind of place are you looking for? There’s a farm for sale next door to our place, but it’s not very big. It’s like a miniature farm, I guess you’d say.” 

“Really? That sounds perfect,” Sarah said with joy in her voice.

“I’ll show you if you don’t mind giving me a ride home, too,” she said. 

“I don’t see why not. What’s your name, anyway?” Herman said. 

“I’m Hulga. I’ve lived here all my life and hate it here,” she said. 

“Why? What’s wrong with this place? It looks so nice to us,” Sarah said. 

“Do you two know about the...” She leaned towards the front seat and whispered, “Lottery in this town?” Her face wore a big scowl. 

“The what?” Herman said. “It sounded like you said...

“Shh, don’t say it out loud. If you get caught, you’re the next one to win automatically,” Hulga said. “The winner gets stoned to death at the old gravel pits.” 

“Oh, that’s got to be a joke. Are we on a hidden camera thing right now?” Sarah said. Her smile faded into terror.

“Does it look like I’m joking? And I sure as hell ain’t carrying a camera in my pants, lady,” Hulga said, annoyed. 

They drove silently for another ten minutes until Hulga lit up and said, “Oh, drive in this driveway; we’re here. This is the place I was telling you about.”

“Wow! It looks like it’s still lived in. How’s that possible?” Herman said. 

“We keep the house going. Sometimes, people come here, and if the weather is bad, they get stuck for a night out here and stay in the house. It gets used quite often. You’d be surprised,” Hulga said. 

“Oh, Herman, it’s so quaint, right?” Sarah said.

 “Yeah, I see what you mean. Hulga, is there anyone staying there now? May we go in and take a look around?” 

“Sure, I’ll get the key while you look around back.” 

“Geez, Herman, what do you think of that lottery story? I’ve never heard of that. Have you? Surely, if it were true, someone would know about it, and it would be exposed by now. No?”

“I still don’t get why she told us that story. We haven’t committed to anything yet in this town. And how did she happen to find us anyway?” Herman said. 

“What if the entire town is in on it?” Sarah said. Her eyes widened with a smirk on her face. “Maybe they keep people who come to town. And now we’re stuck here.” She had a creepy look, and her laugh was ghoulishly eerie.

“Will you stop? I need to think. We should get going. I don’t want to be here after dark. We’ll come back another time to see the house. What do you say?” Herman spoke fast and pushed Sarah toward the direction of the car. 

“Hey, Herman. What’s the big idea?” She pulled her arm free of his hand and tried to keep up his pace. 

When they returned to the car, they couldn't find the magazine anymore, and Herman’s keys were missing. He panicked. His forehead sweated, and his breathing came in short gasps that took in a lot of air and then had none. It was as though he had suddenly forgotten how to breathe. He turned to Sarah. 

“I said, ‘Put the keys into the ignition!’” Sarah yelled at him. She held the keys in the palm of her hand. He looked at her but didn’t see her. Herman got out of the car. He grabbed where his balls should’ve been. He saw Hulga walking the best she could without her prosthesis hobbling. 

“Hey, Herman. Where’re your balls?” She yelled. 

“I think I saw your prosthetic leg next to them the last time I saw them,” he yelled. 

“I’m not interested in what you think you saw. I asked you, ‘Where's your balls?’” Hulga repeated.

The sky got dark, and Herman felt a chill. He knew his balls were on the line and had to fight for them. 

“Please, no. I need those balls. I want babies one day with Sarah. Without my balls, I cannot become a father.” 

“That’s better,” Hulga said. “Now you understand the value of your contributions to a marriage and the commitment that you are making, right?”

“Just like you know, your behaviour has caused your leg to go missing again, right, Hulga?” Herman said. 

“How did you know about that?” she demanded.

“I know everything right now.” Herman smiled and looked around. “For example, Sarah and I will purchase this home but will not be participating in your lottery, and there is nothing you or anyone else can do about it,” Herman said. “I encourage you to do the same.”

“Herman, for a man of few words and a geek in the real world, you may have found your niche living amongst “good country people.”

“Perhaps. But it’s time for us to go. See you soon,” Herman ducked into the driver’s seat, and they drove out of the driveway and back into the city. Once they got out of the car, Sarah suggested they go to the apartment and look at what they wanted to take and what they thought they might donate to Goodwill.  

Herman suggested he needed a walk and told her to start without him.  

A few months later, Herman and Sarah married at the Justice of the Peace on a Wednesday after work, without anyone present except the other couple, who were also marrying Hulga and the man who originally stole her prosthetic leg. Both couples were surprised to see each other. They laughed at their being witnesses to each other’s marriages.

Hulga and her man moved into the city and Herman and Sarah’s apartment. Herman and Sarah moved into the country and moved into the house where the man stole Hulga’s leg. 

"I know now what it is of mine you have, and I want them back."

"Sorry, Herman, but you won't need them anymore."

"Because balls are overrated?"

"Yes, because balls are overrated." She opened a closet door, and every one of the balls he had before they moved in together miraculously had its place and stared him in the face.

They both laughed.

Sarah lifted the weight, and the grip on his throat was gone. The following week, Herman and his sister played squash while Sarah watched. Hulga and her man played tennis on the other side of the squash courts.