It's Bliss

by Alene Roberts

  “Men.”

  “Men? Why, Miss Bliss?”

  “They asked me out.”

  “Were they married?” he asked with concern.

  “Oh, some married ones asked me out, too. Of course I didn’t go out with them. I don’t count them—they don’t figure in all this—just the single ones.”

  Sheldon was grappling with this totally unexpected revelation and was asking himself why and how he’d gotten into it. “Miss Bliss, did you go out with the single ones?”

  “After I got to know them, yes.”

  “Did this problem only begin when you dated men at work?”

  “No, it began in college.”

  Suddenly, Sheldon Ackerman paled. Did he dare ask her what happened on these dates to cause her such distress?

  Billie noticed his expression. “Dr. Ackerman what’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t dare ask you what happened on those dates. I . . .” he couldn’t go on. He knew his face must be red as a beet.

  “Oh no, Dr. Ackerman, nothing like that. I’m sorry, I do need to be more plain.”

  Sheldon couldn’t have agreed more.

  The moment she had been putting off was here, leaving her feeling nervous and anxious. After a long pause, she said, in resignation, “I’m . . . I’m a hapless, hopeless romantic!”

  Sheldon didn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

  His breath came out in a rush—breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

  Relief replaced anxiety. “A romantic?” Not quite believing the problem could be so innocuous, he blurted out, “Is that all?”

  “Is that all? All!” she exclaimed, totally distraught.

  “I mean, is that, uh, all your problem?” he hedged, realizing all of a sudden he was on slippery ground.

  “Yes, because, because . . .” pausing, her face a picture of anguish, she hesitated.

  Sheldon had never seen a face like hers, one that could go from a pleasant expression to a pained one so quickly. He helplessly watched as she became more and more distraught. She stood up and walked a few feet away, standing with her back to him.

  Though he wondered what could be so serious about being a romantic, her excessive emotion caused him to again hold his breath in anticipation of something worse. “Go on, Miss Bliss,” he hesitantly encouraged, “because of what?”

  She whirled around. “Because—ROMANCE IS DEAD!”

  Sheldon thought he could almost hear a funeral dirge as he gazed upon her grief- stricken face. His first impulse was to say, “I’m sorry,” but he didn’t know what he was sorry for—only that she was upset. Questions were swirling around in his head, but he knew instinctively that he had better not repeat his previous question, “is that all?” So he asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Positive! And I can prove it to you.”

  “Please sit down, Miss Bliss,” he coaxed, his voice gentle. “Help me to understand, will you?”

  She nodded and sat down looking very close to tears.

  “Please be patient with my obtuse, male understanding, but what do dates with the young men at college and work have to do with romance being dead?”

  “Men are most of the problem! That’s why,” she explained with finality, “I can never marry.”

  Nettie Newman, where are you when I need you? he thought. I don’t understand feminine thinking! He was too far from shore; he felt the water closing over his head. A little desperately, he asked, “Why are men most of the problem?”

  “Because they don’t understand what romance is, or don’t care. They’re mainly responsible for society’s destruction of romance and,” making a blanket indictment, she added, “they think nothing of it.”

  “What about other women? Do all of them think romance is dead?”

  She blinked back tears. “That’s the saddest part of all. Most of them just stand by and let it happen. Some even become pawns to it, until they don’t know what real romance is. They just hurt and don’t know why.”

  “Forgive my lack of understanding, Miss Bliss, but what is romance, exactly?”

  “It’s, uh, it’s . . . oh! I can’t put it into words. That’s why no one understands.

  That’s why I have to show you what it is, and show you what it isn’t.”

  His mind felt muddled and his patience was running out. His impulse was to reprimand her. Instead, he calmly and gently asked, “Can you show me, now?”

  “May I ask you some questions?”

  “Miss Bliss, I’m not a patient man.”

  “I know, but I need to ask you some questions first.”

  “All right! But get on with them.”

  Billie curled up on the couch. Hesitantly, she asked, “Have you read the book ‘Jane Eyre?’”

  He was so surprised by the question, he couldn’t think for a moment. “Let me think. I believe I have, yes.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I read it when I was a young girl. It was the very first love story I had ever read and I loved it. You see, Dr. Ackerman, romance is the precursor to love, and it’s the spark that keeps a marriage special. Without romance, you can’t have true love. And, in my mind, Jane Eyre is the epitome of both. Don’t you think so?”

  “Well, uh, I haven’t really thought about it, Miss Bliss. Refresh my memory.” He cleared his throat. “What made it romantic?”

  Her face became wistful, her eyes distant, faraway. “You know, the romantic way they met out on the moor—how she frightened his horse?

  Then their conversations—oh, their many conversations. Mr. Rochester got to know Jane and she got to know him, and their love began to grow though they had hardly touched each other. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  He blinked his eyes, his lips moved wordlessly as he tried to answer her, but no sound came. Finally, he muttered, “Why yes, that was nice, yes.”

  “It is more than nice, Dr. Ackerman,” she said with a touch of reproach.

  “It’s very unusual in today’s world.”

  “Oh? I don’t understand. There are many love stories written today. I see them in the book stores.”

  “Have you read any of them?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then you don’t know!”

  “Know what?”

  “That the majority of those books have killed romance.” The pain appeared on her face again. “And the movies! Oh!” she put both hands over her mouth and closed her eyes.

  Sheldon fought the urge to smile at the dramatics.

  She opened her eyes. “Did you see the movie ‘Jane Eyre’ with Orson Wells and Joan Fontaine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Yes. I thought it represented the book very well.”

  “It did. But—have you seen movies of any of the modern-day love stories?

  Or have you seen love stories made for television?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t had time to attend movies and watch television as such, just a symphony or an opera now and then, you know, that sort of thing.”

  “Then you don’t know!” she repeated, dangerously close to tears.

  “They kill romance, too?”

  “Yes!”

  “I can hardly believe that, Miss Bliss.”

  She uncurled, got up, and stepped quickly over to the television and promptly put in one of the DVD’s she had rented earlier today. “I want you to see a little part of this movie. It’s is a very popular. It won best actress and best screenplay. Some time ago, a friend of mine asked me out to a movie. This is the one he took me to. He assured me that it was a romantic love story.”

  The title came on and it looked familiar to Sheldon. He probably had seen it advertised somewhere. Billie sat down and they proceeded to watch it.

  Ten minutes later, Sheldon exclaimed, “Good grief! Do they use that language in movies today?”

  “Yes.”

  Twenty minutes later, Sheldon
jumped up, thoroughly embarrassed.

  “Turn it off!”

  “Gladly,” she exclaimed through tears.

  “Are you crying, Miss Bliss?” he asked, now more horrified.

  “Yes,” she sniffed. “See? Romance is dead!” She walked to the door and in what, to him, seemed another one of those inexplicable shifts in feminine thinking said, “Let’s go have a piece of my birthday cake, Dr. Ackerman.”

  Dumbfounded and stunned, Sheldon followed his protege into the kitchen.

  Matilda and Henry had just finished cleaning up the dessert dishes.

  “Why, Billie what’s the matter?” Aunt Tilly asked concerned.

  “We just want a piece of birthday cake, Aunt Tilly,” she stated tearfully.

  “Oh, yes, I’ll get it right away.” She scurried into the butler’s pantry and retrieved it.

  “Sit down at the table, Dr. Ackerman, and you too, Billie,” growled Henry, “you can’t eat standing up.”

  “Cut me a big piece, Aunt Tilly,” Billie said, tears still trickling down her cheeks. Almost before another tear could roll down, Matilda had placed a large piece of cake before each of them.

  “Please, Miss Bliss, don’t cry,” pleaded the bewildered and panicky professor.

  “Don’t take her too seriously, Dr. Ackerman,” Henry said, “this happens every time she begins to watch a rented DVD or watches a movie on television.

  She turns them off after only five minutes or so, but it’s enough to send her into these kind of theatrics. She comes into the kitchen and eats and cries and cries and eats!”

  “That’s right, Dr. Ackerman,” Billie said, sniffling and wiping the tears off her cheeks. “And now,” she said with high drama, “you know my PROBLEM!”

  Another bite of cake found its way into her mouth.

  Sheldon Ackerman’s eyes glazed over. That he was sitting here in this bewildering situation was unbelievable, and that he was witnessing the spectacle of something that had many years ago sent him running—a weeping woman—was beyond comprehension!

  He stared at the cake in front of him, certain he couldn’t swallow a bite.

  Abruptly shoving his chair back, he stood up. “I’m sorry, Matilda, I’m afraid I can’t eat this right now. I must be going.”

  Henry chuckled and Matilda stated in a tone that brooked no argument, “Then I’ll wrap it up so you can take it home.”

  “Thank you.” He gave her a weak smile. Avoiding any further eye contact with those tearful, brown eyes, he watched impatiently as Matilda carefully wrapped up the cake in aluminum foil.

  “Here you are, Dr. Ackerman. Eat the cake when you feel better.”

  He took the foil package. “Yes, yes, thank you.” He walked out of the kitchen unaware that his charge had followed him to the door, that is, until he heard a subdued voice behind him.

  “Goodnight, Dr. Ackerman.”

  He turned around, startled. “Oh, yes, good night, Miss Bliss.” He noticed, gratefully, that the tears had dried up. He opened the door and stepped out. Billie followed him out onto the porch.

  “Dr. Ackerman?”

  Startled again to see that she had followed him out, he answered, “Yes?”

  “I told you I wasn’t a good candidate for your project.”

  “So you did, Miss Bliss.”

  “I’ll be glad to drop out so that you can get someone else.”

  “Well, uh . . . Miss Bliss . . . I just need some time to think about your, uh, rather singular problem. Goodnight.” He half stumbled down the steps in a hasty retreat to his car.

  -

  Returning to his own familiar surroundings brought Sheldon a measure of objectivity. He found that, away from Miss Bliss, he could think about everything more calmly—in spite of the fact that he was still shaken up over what he had just experienced at the Bliss household. On impulse, while pacing back and forth in the kitchen, he picked up the phone to call Nettie, but immediately put it back down. Impulsiveness was not his nature; calling Nettie right now didn’t feel right. What he had to do was think it all over very carefully.

  The thing that disturbed Sheldon at present was that he felt responsible for Billie Bliss eating such a large piece of cake! If he hadn’t asked her to show him her problem, she wouldn’t have had a desire to overeat.

  Something nagged at him—oh, yes, why did she tell him that she would drop out of the project? In his mind, dropping Miss Bliss from the project was not even an option. Keeping a commitment when he made one was part of Sheldon Ackerman’s honor code.

  Still pacing the floor, he carefully retraced the events of the evening. He had never seen anyone who could suffer like Miss Bliss. Somehow he had to help her. She must be wrong. Surely romance couldn’t be dead! She has just seen the wrong movies and picked up the wrong books.

  He decided right then and there to do some research himself; he would ask his female colleagues at the university about romantic movies.

  This decision left Sheldon feeling much more relaxed. He went to the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk, poured himself a glass, and sat down at the table. Unwrapping the cake that Matilda so kindly sent home with him, he took a large bite, finding it as delicious as it looked.

  Fourteen

  Dr. Ackerman waited for his 280 class to trickle in Wednesday morning, watching especially for Miss Bliss. When she walked through the door, she avoided looking at him, going straight to her seat. He noted that her hair was pulled back and hung in one long braid down her back. She wore jeans today and a navy blue jacket with a t-shirt almost the color of her hair. Yes, Miss Bliss did dress nicely. He hoped Hal, Robert, and Nettie were having luck in the area of grooming with the other three. He hadn’t noticed. Making himself aware of female grooming in general seemed like a Herculean task. Noting the grooming of one young lady was all he could handle!

  Billie settled into her seat and pulled out a pen and notebook for notes.

  Josie, who always seemed to be sitting near her, leaned over and whispered.

  “I hear you’re one of the four chosen for the project. How is it working with ol’ Dodds?”

  “I don’t really know, Josie. I haven’t been in the program long enough,” she whispered back. And, she reminded herself, she wasn’t going to stay in it.

  After Dr. Ackerman left last night, she had made up her mind to drop out and let ‘ol’ Dodds,’ as Josie called him, off the hook.

  When the class was over, Vickie, Jane and Sandy gathered around her, all smiles. “How is it going, Billie?” Vickie asked.

  “How’s it going with you?” she asked, hoping to avoid any further questions.

  “Oh, I’m excited to be working with Mrs. Newman. She’s already helped me.”

  “How are you both doing?” Billie asked, looking at the other two.

  Jane was the first to answer. “Dr. Bittle and his wife have helped me solve a problem and have been wonderful to me. I have hopes of getting my life back on track.”

  “I’m happy to hear that, Jane.” She looked questioningly at Sandy.

  “Dr. Ozog and his wife have treated me like a daughter and have taken me under their wing. They’re helping me accomplish what I’ve wanted to, but have been putting off.”

  Billie was impressed with the progress the girls were making and with the kind people who were helping them.

  “What about you, Billie? How are you doing with our handsome professor?” Vickie asked, and the other two nodded, eager to hear her answer.

  “He’s been very kind also and has put in a lot of time to help me.” They seemed satisfied with that answer.

  Billie took so long pretending to look for something in her backpack, Vickie finally said, “Well, we’ve got to go. See you Friday, Billie.”

  “Yes, Friday. Bye,” she said, smiling. She watched them leave, then put the backpack over her shoulder and walked next door to Dr. Ackerman’s office, hoping he was there. Seeing him through the window, she knocked.

  He got up and o
pened the door. His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Oh, Miss Bliss, I’m glad you stopped in. I want to talk to you.”

  “And I want to talk to you, Dr. Ackerman.”

  “Oh? Please have a seat. What is it you want to talk to me about?” he asked, as he seated himself behind the desk.

  Billie took a deep breath. “I know how much I disturbed you last night.

  I don’t blame you at all, Dr. Ackerman, please understand that. But now that you know what my problem is and know that it’s hopeless, you can understand why I must drop out of the program.”

  “Hopeless? Why Miss Bliss, I know nothing of the sort. Of course it’s not hopeless. I went home and gave it some thought, and I have come up with some ideas that I’m going to work on. I’m going to prove to you that romance is not dead.”

  Billie blinked in shock. Then amusement flickered across her face. Did her stiff and proper professor say what she thought he did? she asked herself.

  “What?”

  Dr. Ackerman repeated it.

  Billie squelched a giggle, certain that this was totally out of character for him. “Dr. Ackerman, I’ve been working on this since I was eighteen years old.

  What can you do in a few weeks?” Suddenly distress replaced her amusement; the distress so pronounced, her chin quivered.

  “Please, Miss Bliss,” he said, jumping up and stepping around the desk.

  His voice full of panic, he exclaimed, “Don’t cry!” Getting hold of himself, he said in a more soothing tone while patting her shoulder, “I promise you that together we can solve your problem.”

  “But it isn’t just my problem; it’s the world’s problem.”

  “The world?” To Sheldon, this was definitely blowing the problem out of proportion.

  “Yes,” she said in a small, quaking voice.

  Oh no, he thought, she is going to cry! “The world be hanged. You take care of yourself.”

  She stood and looked up at him forlornly. “Myself? How can a person find romance by herself? It takes two—a man and a woman.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot,” he mumbled. “Uh, Miss Bliss, do uh . . . young men still ask you out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you go out with them?”