It's Bliss

by Alene Roberts

  “Now that we have that out of the way,” Billie said brightly, “Where do we start tonight?”

  “The first thing is to remind you that tomorrow night, Friday, we are meeting with the committee at 7:00 in the Franklin lounge.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “And, Bliss, you dress nicely, so I can’t tell if you’ve, uh, gained or lost.

  As you know,” he said, feeling uncomfortable about bringing it up, “we’re supposed to be working on it.”

  “Of course. I’ve been walking every morning, as Nettie suggested, and I”ve always eaten nutritiously. I learned that from my mother.”

  “Have . . . have you lost weight?”

  “Yes. Two pounds, but I gained one back after I binged on my birthday cake.”

  “Oh,” he said, looking disappointed.

  “But Nettie taught me that it isn’t pounds we should worry about anyway.

  We’re supposed to lose inches, and I’ll let you know when it’s best for you to know.”

  “Good,” he said, relieved that that subject was out of the way. Now,” he began, putting his elbows on his knees and tapping his finger tips together in the gesture she was coming to know so well. “I’ve been doing some research.”

  “On what?”

  Sheldon felt self-conscious. “On, uh, romance.”

  Her eyes twinkling with amusement, she smiled. “How did you do that?”

  “Listen, and I’ll tell you.” He related the story of Molly and Robert Bittle’s courtship, watching his student closely. He was pleased that she reacted as he expected—her eyes were animated one minute and wistful the next. Then he repeated Hal and Sharon Ozog’s and Nettie and Don Newman’s courtships.

  Billie clapped her hands and sighed. “How romantic!”

  “I rest my case, Bliss,” he said, making a conscious effort to call her that.

  “There you are—romance is not dead.”

  Billie’s face fell. “But that was then; it’s not that way now.”

  Sheldon felt frustrated and let down. “Well, don’t you have friends your age who are married?” She nodded. “Have you asked them about their courtships?”

  “Yes.” Her expression turned to one of sadness. “After hearing several of them, I decided I didn’t want to hear the rest. And recently a friend of mine got married, and her story is even worse.” Her sadness turned into anguish so quickly, Sheldon jumped up.

  “Please, don’t get upset, Miss Bliss,” he said, forgetting again, “I just can’t believe there aren’t modern courtships that are romantic. I’m afraid I have to ask—what makes them unromantic?”

  Tears threatened. “I would be as embarrassed to tell you that as I would be if I told you about those movies you got a glimpse of the other night. All I can say is, modern courtships are not as enjoyable to listen to as the Bittles’, the Ozogs’, and the Newmans’.”

  Finding himself astounded and then doubtful that things could really be this bad, Sheldon hunkered down before her and looked into her eyes.

  “Please, Miss, er, Bliss, don’t let yourself be upset. I’ll interview some students of mine, who are young married men. I’m sure I can show you that romance in this day and age is alive and well.”

  “You can?” she asked, pretending to be hopeful for his sake.

  “Yes.” Relieved that she looked hopeful, he stood up. “Now, before I go, what are we going to tell the group tomorrow night about . . . you know, your . . . uh, problem?”

  Sixteen

  The telephone conversations between Nettie Newman, Molly Bittle, and Sharon Ozog were buzzing. The subject was “what is going on with Sheldon Ackerman?” After all, it isn’t every day that a thirty-eight-year-old confirmed bachelor feels compelled to interview three older women about their courtships.

  -

  By the time Sheldon drove into the Franklin Building parking lot, Friday evening, he was feeling very apprehensive. Miss, er, Bliss, he silently corrected himself, had told him not to worry, that she would think of something to say to the group. This, in and of itself, made him nervous, Aware of how confusing Bliss’ account of things could be, he drew in a gulp of air and blew it out.

  He was late—something he detested. A long distance business call had detained him. He pulled his long legs out of the car and moved rapidly toward the Franklin Building. When he walked in, the group was seated around the conference table, waiting for him. He moved quickly to his place and looked around, consternation on his face.

  “I apologize for being late.”

  Robert chuckled. “Thank you for the apology, Dr. Ackerman. We’ve never known you to be late before. It’s nice to know that you’re as human as the rest of us.”

  This seemed to amuse the rest of the group, but caused Sheldon to flush.

  He didn’t know whether or not he appreciated this kind of humor in front of his students. What ribbing he’d taken from the DeePees before had been in private. But hadn’t he asked for it when he invited these three to participate in the project? He managed a brief smile and waited for their amusement to subside.

  “Now that I’ve provided some laughs for all of you,” he said with a touch of asperity, “shall we begin the meeting?”

  “I’m ready to take the minutes, Dr. Ackerman,” Nettie said, smiling, her pen poised over a pad. It had been agreed that, since Nettie knew shorthand from her secretarial days, that would be her contribution.

  Sheldon welcomed them to the first of the formal group meetings of Project Success. He suggested that they begin with each of the girls reporting how she felt about the project so far. He called on Vickie Blume, Sandra Potter, and Jane Bentley, in that order, suggesting the informality of remaining in their seats while doing so.

  The committee sat back and listened while the girls expressed their gratitude for what was being done for them and how kindly they had been treated by their support counselors.

  Sheldon was gratified by their remarks. He had not expected such positive results so soon, and it immediately reinforced his hope for the project—hope that had been waxing and waning of late. It also eased his apprehension somewhat over what Billie Bliss might report.

  “Miss Bliss, may we hear from you now?”

  “I’m afraid that I’m the maverick of the group,” she began. “I’m a hopeless case for Project Success, but Dr. Ackerman is the kindest and most caring man I’ve ever known.”

  Her classmates stared at her wide-eyed, wondering if she were really talking about their professor.

  Undeterred by their expressions of incredulity, Billie continued. “Dr. Ackerman is determined . . . no, he’s committed to proving that I’m not a hopeless case, and he’s willing to give the time, no matter how long it takes, and is also willing to do whatever it takes to do so.”

  There was silence around the table, everyone waiting expectantly, hoping that she would continue..

  “That’s all I have to say,” Billie concluded abruptly.

  Nettie was disappointed Billie hadn’t divulged anything she could sink her teeth into. Instead, Billie’s remarks had only managed to make her more curious about what was going on in their private meetings. In fact, everyone was curious, everyone, that is, except Sheldon. He was speechless. This was the second time Bliss had mentioned that he was kind and caring, but tonight she had said he was the kindest and most caring man she had ever known! How could this be true, he wondered?

  But deep inside, the statement pleased him more than he cared to admit.

  Realizing that all eyes were upon him, waiting, he cleared his throat.

  “Thank you, girls, for your reports. Now, I would like Dr. Bittle, Mrs. Newman, and Dr. Ozog to say a few words.”

  The three each expressed appreciation for the girls’ remarks. And each of them, in their own way, expressed to the girls that it was helpful to hear such encouraging feed-back so early in the program.

  Sheldon closed the meeting by thanking everyone for coming and participating and then encourag
ed the girls to continue striving toward their goals.

  As everyone prepared to leave, Jane, Sandra, and Vickie gathered around Billie, peppering her with questions, which she neatly sidestepped by promising details when there was a conclusion one way or another.

  When the three interrogators left, Sheldon addressed Billie. “Miss Bliss, is Monday evening a good time for our next meeting?”

  She thought about it, then said, “Yes. Shall we meet at my home again?”

  “I’m wondering if that would be taking advantage of your family’s kindness.”

  “You can say that after meeting my family?” she asked, smiling.

  He smiled back. “Well, I find them to be a very interesting, warm, and hospitable family, but . . .”

  “There are no ‘buts,’ Dr. Ackerman. You might as well add ‘curious’ to those adjectives describing my family. They like to be in on everything that is happening to me.”

  Still smiling, he said, “All right then, 7:00 Monday at your home. And thank you. I really do enjoy your family. It’s been a long time since I had one.”

  “Oh? Your parents aren’t living?”

  “No. My mother died ten years ago, and my father died a year later in a car accident. He was going downhill healthwise after my mother died anyway, so the accident just took him a little sooner.”

  “I’m so sorry. You really have had a lonely life.”

  Sheldon felt disconcerted. He hadn’t thought his life so lonely. Yet, here she was, looking up at him with those large, brown eyes filled with tender and compelling empathy for him.

  -

  Saturday morning, after planning his lectures for the 280 class next week and grading exam papers for his other class, Sheldon pulled out his list of the faculty members at Fairfield University. He scanned through it, writing down numbers of three married women colleagues he knew well enough to ask for the names of their favorite romantic movies. Normally, he might have asked Nettie, Molly, or Sharon, but he was hesitant to provide more fodder for their curiosity.

  Feeling a little timid and apprehensive, he wondered how his female colleagues would react to his request. Nevertheless, with pad and pen in hand he began phoning. To his surprise and relief, none of the women indicated in any way that his request was odd or unusual.

  After lunch, with the list of movies in hand, he drove to and entered a video rental store for the first time in his life. He looked around in amazement at all the videos. This had all happened right under his nose and he had been totally unaware. Feeling like the novice that he was, he walked around looking at the covers and titles, noticing that what he knew as videos were now all called DVDs. Once in a while there was a title that sounded familiar, probably from a commercial on the television, seen when he was watching the news channel or the stock market report.

  Above the rows, he noticed, there were signs indicating the types of movies underneath. Finally finding the sign that said ROMANCE, he looked at his list and began searching. Although some of the covers were distasteful to him, most of them weren’t, which seemed hopeful. He found three of the movies on his list and chose two others that looked like they might be ‘romantic.’

  When the annoying procedure of acquiring a card had been taken care of, he was able to pay for them and move to the indicated pick-up place near the door. He had just picked up all five movies and placed them under his arm when behind him he heard a female voice speaking to him.

  “Hello, Dr. Ackerman.”

  He was so startled, one of the DVDs dropped out from under his arm.

  He turned to see who had spoken, but was greeted only by the back of the head of a young woman picking it up. As she stood up, he saw that it was Vickie Blume! She was staring at the movie title, her eyes wide, her mouth open.

  Sheldon Ackerman flushed furiously, totally embarrassed to have one of his students see him in here, let alone see the kind of movies he was renting! It hadn’t entered his head that someone in one of his classes might see him. He had been so amazed over the number of movies available, that he was oblivious to anyone else in the store.

  “Are you renting this for yourself, Dr. Ackerman?” Vickie Blume asked bluntly, wide-eyed curiosity on her face.

  Even more embarrassed, he nodded as he took the DVD from her hand.

  “Do you know anything about that movie?” she asked. For some reason, she didn’t think so.

  “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “I heard it was one of the steamiest movies yet.”

  He looked at it. It was one of the benign-looking ones he himself had chosen. “Good grief!” He dropped it back down where he had picked it up.

  “No, Dr. Ackerman, don’t put it there, you won’t get credit for returning it,” she said, picking it up and thrusting it into his reluctant hand. Then picking up her own rented movies, she said, “Come, I’ll show you where the night drop is.”

  They walked outside and she pointed to it. He dropped it in as if it were a snake about to bite him.

  “You haven’t been to a video store for a long time have you, Dr. Ackerman?”

  “Uh . . . no, I haven’t. Miss Blume,” he began, still feeling flustered, “but I want to remind you that you signed an agreement not to discuss anything outside of the group concerning the project.”

  Her eyes widened in shock again. “You rented these DVDs for the project?”

  This usually very careful man was horrified at his careless remark. His face felt hot. He couldn’t believe he had blurted out such information! “I know what this looks like, Miss Blume, but I assure you, it is not what it looks like.”

  “I believe you, Dr. Ackerman.” She knew that if it had been anyone but Dr. Ackerman, that would not have been the case.

  “Thank you, Miss Blume,” he said with heartfelt relief. “I’ll see you in class on Monday.” With that, he hurried to his car, dropped the offending DVDs on the seat and drove out of there as fast as the speed limit would allow.

  Unseen by Sheldon, another pair of eyes had been watching him as he picked out and rented the DVDs—Miss Lora Lemmon. She now watched him through the window of the store. When both Dr. Ackerman and Vickie Blume had driven off, she walked out of the store, a sly smile on her face.

  As Sheldon drove home, another unsettling thought came to him—he would now have to view these movies before taking them with him to meet with Bliss, Monday night.

  The phone was ringing as he walked into his condominium. He rushed over, picked it up, and learned that there was a crisis in his holding company, one which he had to handle in person. He would have to drive to Claytonville’s small airport and take a commuter plane as soon as possible to Springfield, then catch a flight on a regular airline to St. Louis. He couldn’t possibly get back until late Sunday night or early Monday morning.

  Meanwhile, Vickie Blume was tickled. She had agreed not to discuss anything concerning Project Success with anyone outside the group, but she could talk to anyone in the group. And did she ever have a juicy tidbit to share with her fellow projectees!

  Seventeen

  Everyone in the 280 class Monday morning was looking at each other in consternation. It was ten minutes after starting time, and their usually punctual professor was not there. Billie was particularly concerned. This was not at all like Dodds.

  Vickie Blume, Sandra Potter, and Jane Bentley were throwing glances at each other, after which their eyes focused on Billie, then again at each other, smiling over the titillating news that Vickie had wasted no time in disseminating.

  Lora Lemmon, armed with the same tidbit of juicy knowledge, sat in her usual place near the front, smiling smugly.

  Five minutes later, Dr. Ackerman breathlessly walked through the door and stood before them, his tie off center, his suit rumpled. The class stared at the unusual spectacle, wondering with curiosity what could have happened to cause this meticulously neat man to come to class in this condition.

  Pulling his glasses from his pocket, Dr. Ackerman studied the surpris
ed faces before him. “I apologize for being late. It’s regrettable that time has been wasted.” And without offering any further explanation, he launched into his lecture.

  -

  The rest of the day proved to be so full Sheldon didn’t have time to preview the movies he had rented. He’d had several counseling sessions with students and a faculty meeting which ran him so late into the evening, he couldn’t fix himself more than a sandwich before showering and getting ready for his meeting with Bliss.

  When he was ready, he eyed the DVDs. Without them he had nothing to show Bliss, no reason for the meeting. Feeling apprehensive about showing them to her before he had seen them himself, he decided to ask her. Together they would decide whether or not to view them. Placing them in his briefcase, he left.

  Standing on the Bliss porch, feeling off kilter after his hectic weekend, he wondered what kind of an evening was ahead of him. He took a deep breath and pushed the doorbell.

  Margaret Bliss answered the door. “Good evening, Sheldon,” she said smiling. “Come in. It’s nice to see you.”

  “Thank you, Margaret,” he said, feeling more relaxed after being greeted by this gracious and serene woman.

  She led him into the front room and invited him to sit down. “When you and Billie are through with your meeting tonight, Sheldon, we have some blueberry pie and ice cream for you both.”

  “And Mother is famous for her blueberry pie,” stated Billie as she entered.

  “Sounds good, Margaret, thank you.” He watched Margaret walk away, straight shouldered and dignified.

  “Good evening, Dodds,” Billie said, grinning. “You still look as if your weekend was less than orderly.”

  “I do?” he asked, surprised at her intuitiveness.

  “You do.”

  “It’s probably because I don’t know how prepared I am tonight. I have some . . . uh, DVDs in my briefcase that, uh, several women colleagues of mine said were, and I quote: ‘wonderful romances.’”