Playing Fair and Being Kind

POLITE COMPANY

Francis regretted opening his mind to Gary. He regretted confessing a minor indiscretion. Gary was a new friend and Francis had needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk about a situation he was navigating with Ellen his wife of forty years. Francis and Ellen were still living in the same house but the atmosphere had curdled and putrefied. Francis needed to get a different perspective because all his available information and resources could not give him the key to easing the pain he was suffering. He needed help and it bothered him that he was unable to intellectually overcome what was happening in his house. He chose to open up to Gary. Now he was sorry he did.

Gary lived here in this summer vacation town on the coast. Francis and Ellen came here for the summer each year and Gary was a native so this was a convenient situation. Francis would be able to get this friend’s help and he could avoid disclosing the situation to his more familiar friends back in State College. It was also convenient that Gary had been in the business of counseling people before. He seemed like a facilitative person and Francis was hoping he could get help from him.

Gary sat in front of Francis digesting what he’d just learned. They were seated at an outside table at one of the more popular breakfast and lunch spots on the waterfront. The deck overlooked the harbor where boats swung on moorings and other small craft moved cautiously through carrying small groups of tourists and locals out for boat rides. On the surface the summer day was glorious; sunny, and buzzing with happiness. Inside Francis’ and Gary’s heads the sounds of fear and concern and confession looped into a dreary undulation of what to say next.

Paranoia had been Francis’ companion for a few months since Ellen had discovered emails from a sophomore student of his. She read the exchange of messages between Francis and his charge until she was convinced that he was up to no good. It was devastating for her. Her husband was involved in a flirtation with a twenty something student. It killed her that he was living a life outside of their long marriage; a marriage that Ellen had been certain was comfortable and complete for the both of them. She had left his computer screen up with the damning evidence of his indiscretion so it would be clear that she was on to him. It worked. Francis had seen right away that he was in dutch and that all would be changed from here on. Francis had sought out Gary because he needed to vent and he knew that Gary had great experience in life’s issues. He also knew that Gary was incapable of avoiding sticky situations. He could count on Gary to be forthright. Gary was one of those autodidacts; had resisted academia and did not let learned people intimidate him.

Francis spoke the details of his situation with Ellen and Gary listened quietly without interruption. When Gary finally did respond Francis admired the way Gary simply stated the obvious and kept his cool while laying the contradictions out. Gary never raised his voice and he never used a tone of disrespect.  Francis needed to talk to a sympathetic person who had a perspective that could separate the grain from the chaff. What he didn’t count on was that Gary could also see all sides of a discomforting situation. Nor was he ready for what Gary told him.

After an disquieting pause Gary brushed a crumb from the table with the back of his hand and looked directly into Francis’ eyes. Francis became ill at ease more for the back hand brush than for the direct look.

“You know, Franny; women have a name for men who do this kind of thing.”

The one thing that really irritated Francis was Gary’s use of the diminutive. He never called him on it. He was intimidated by Gary’s looseness and ease in conversation. He didn’t have a handle on Gary and he was never sure how to be as direct and as open as his new friend. He believed that Gary did this to irritate him and to keep him off balance. He respected Gary’s intellect. Francis had never needed to deal directly with this type of individual even though he’d risen through the ranks of university to become the head of the art department in State College.

Francis screwed up his courage and spoke in a hoarse whisper that totally embarrassed himself.

“What’s that?” he asked without conviction. His eyes held onto Gary’s but he felt his head lowering as if he were anticipating a beating.

Gary’s expression never altered and his gaze never wavered from Francis.

“Scumbag”. When the word came out it came through slightly curled lips and the “bag” part was elongated. Scumbaaag.

Scumbag! Francis’ head raised a bit and he felt angry. How dare this piece of shit call him a fucking “scumbag”. Just the same Francis was trapped. He was in a trap of his own doing. He’d done all the work to set this situation up and he’d planned it all hoping that he would have a decent and intellectual discussion. He should have known better than to trust his life problems with a goddam idiot scholarly dropout! Francis didn’t dare move a muscle. Gary was a trained counselor and was a damned good clinician from what Francis knew of his history and he dared not give away any emotions by reacting appropriately.

Gary hadn’t moved a bit or dropped his gaze. He sat as still as a statue watching Francis. Francis felt that Gary was looking into his heart. He suspected that Gary could read his mind.

“Yeah”, said Francis. That was all he could muster. He felt humiliated and hurt and slowly was losing his cool. He quickly took a sip of coffee and wiped his mouth and then his eyes with his napkin. He could not regain his composure. Gary continued to watch him so Francis leaned back into his chair and looked out over the harbor and a deep sigh left him. Left him slumped a bit and he felt the sting of tears start to fill his eyes. This was a shitty no good day he was thinking. He regretted ever opening is mouth to this bastard. Part of him wanted to stand up and leave the table. Walk away and leave the restaurant and walk to his car and drive away. Drive away to where? He elected to remain sitting and to pretend that he was all right. He turned and looked squarely back at Gary.

Gary was now leaning forward with his elbows on the table and his expression had softened a bit.

“What comes next?”, asked Gary.

“I don’t know”, said Francis, and he meant it.

Gary guessed this was the most honest Francis had been all day.

Gentle George
31 August 2015