It's Bliss

by Alene Roberts

  Billie’s eyes widened with surprise. “It sounds like you are prepared.”

  “But I didn’t get to preview them, so I’m nervous about showing them.”

  Billie smiled at the thought of her professor previewing romances. He was certainly going the extra mile. “Let me see them, maybe I can help.”

  He reluctantly opened his briefcase, pulled out all four, and handed her one. Shaking her head sadly, she handed it back to him. The next one he handed to her, was one of the two he had chosen on his own. He held his breath and watched her expressive face.

  She blinked as she looked at the title. “Someone recommended this?” she asked, shocked.

  “No, I chose it myself because the cover and name sounded nice and, uh, harmless,” he replied miserably. He took it from her and shoved it back into the briefcase. He picked up the third one, holding it in his hand as he showed it to her. She frowned sadly and shook her head. More miserable than ever, he picked up the last one.

  Her expression changed. “I don’t know anything about this one.”

  “One of my colleagues said it was her favorite romantic movie of all time,” he said tentatively, afraid to hope that it was any better than the others.

  Billie leaned over and put her hand upon his bare forearm. “Don’t be so concerned, Dodds. If this isn’t a good one, we’ll soon know and we can turn it off.” She smiled. “I appreciate your efforts to find one for me.”

  The touch of her hand was soothing and he relaxed. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I guess we might as well get it over with. Let’s go look at it.”

  Sheldon was amazed that they hadn’t run into Matilda or any other member of the family as they walked down the hall to the television room.

  Billie turned on the television and shoved the disc into the player. She sat down in the chair. Sheldon walked to the couch, standing there tensely, staring at the screen.

  “Please sit down, Dodds, and try to relax,” Billie said, smiling. “I have the control in my hand. I’ll turn it off the minute you say.”

  “Oh, yes, thank you,” he said sitting down stiffly.

  The title of the movie appeared, listing the names of the popular and well-known stars. The movie began. Beautiful music came from the speakers and exotic scenery filled the screen. Sheldon began to relax a little, allowing himself to enjoy what promised to be a good movie. Fifteen minutes later, the leading man and woman, having met just five minutes before, began to get a little affectionate. The woman gave the man a suggestive look, and the man immediately grabbed her and kissed her—no, Sheldon thought, that wasn’t a kiss! Revulsion swept over him. He jumped up.

  “Turn it off!”

  Billie turned it off.

  “Good grief, Bliss! What were they doing? Trying to swab each other’s tonsils?”

  Her anguished expression turned to one of amusement and she giggled.

  “I’m sure that’s what they were doing, Dodds. They certainly were not kissing!”

  Sheldon paced around the room, anger building up in him. “There wasn’t any building up of a relationship, no suspense, just meeting and then the woman throwing herself at him in an aggressive manner, and the man simply responding to her sexual aggression.”

  Billie’s eyes followed the pacing man. “What if . . .” she began hesitantly, “in this movie they had built up the suspense of their relationship, would you like it any better?”

  “No! They couldn’t build it up enough for me to like it.”

  She sighed with relief. “Then they stole your emotions, too?”

  He stopped pacing long enough to ask, “Stole my emotions? What do you mean?”

  “You know when you’re watching a romantic movie and the man and woman get to know each other and the suspense of their love grows and finally culminates in a real kiss—and then how your emotions soar with it, making you feel the joy of their love?” She sighed, staring into space, a dreamy expression in her eyes. “You know, all that emotion you feel at that time?” She looked over at him, expectantly, but could see by his blank expression that he didn’t understand, so trying to explain further, she went on. “You see, Dodds, like you said, in this movie, there was no time to build up emotion, but even if there had been time, what they did would have still killed my emotion.

  Didn’t they kill yours, too?”

  Sheldon tried to understand, wanted to understand, but knew it was apparent by her look of disappointment that he didn’t. “I had plenty of emotion, Bliss. It was disgust and anger. But . . . somehow I don’t think that’s what you meant, is it?” She shook her head. “It has been a long time since I’ve seen what you would call a romantic movie. In fact, I’m not sure what a romantic movie is. But one thing I can say for certain—this movie,” he pointed his finger vigorously at the television, “is not one!” He began pacing again, then some moments later he said, “So far it appears, and mind you, I said it only appears that you’re right—that romance is dead.” In three steps he was over at the DVD player, ejecting the movie. He moved to the couch, grabbed the cover, replaced the disc, and threw it back inside his briefcase.

  Anger compelled him to tell her more. “I also rented another movie that looked benign.” He told her the name of it. “Do you know anything about it?”

  Billie tried to hide her shock. “I’ve heard about it. Where is it?”

  “Someone told me what it was, so I shoved it in the night drop.”

  “But you didn’t know, Dodds.”

  “No, I didn’t know what has been happening right under my nose. I’ve been burying my head in the sand for years!” He began pacing again. “I can’t believe what has happened to society.” His dark brows furrowed as his discomfort mounted.

  He stopped suddenly, picked up the briefcase in his left hand and grabbed Billie’s hand with his right. “Come, Bliss, I feel the need of a big piece of berry pie a la mode.” Dropping his briefcase long enough to open the door, and still holding tightly to Billie’s hand, he walked rapidly down the hall, dragging her along with him.

  No one was in the kitchen, but on the counter was the waiting pie.

  Sheldon let go of Billie’s hand and plunked himself down at the table, while a dazed Billie got out some plates and forks.

  “How big a piece, Dodds?”

  “Big!”

  She obediently cut a large piece for him and a small piece for herself.

  Opening the freezer and pulling out the ice cream, she then scooped out several large hunks for Dodds and a small one for herself.

  “Thank you,” he mumbled, still frowning morosely as she placed the large concoction before him. He began eating automatically, staring at some invisible spot in the middle of the table.

  Henry, who knew the pair had been watching another movie, ambled into the kitchen expecting to see the usual scene. He stopped short, staring at the unexpected sight before him. Billie, a serene expression upon her face, was taking small mincing bites from a very small piece of pie, while Sheldon was glowering and wolfing down a large piece.

  “What happened to the ‘odd couple’? Looks to me like you two decided to switch places.”

  The disheartened professor slowly raised his head.”Uh . . . what?” he asked.

  Henry, perversely pleased, repeated the question.

  Sheldon was puzzled, “What do you mean, Henry?”

  Henry gave him a sardonic smile while pointing to Sheldon’s plate and then to Billie’s. Sheldon looked at Billie’s small, partially-eaten pie, surprised, then looked up into her tranquil face. He was totally amazed. Where were the tears and grief that were so evident last time? He was the one who was agitated, she was the composed one. They had switched roles! All he could do was stare at Billie questioningly.

  “Are you both wondering why I’m not in tears?”

  Both men nodded.

  “Because,” she smiled affectionately at her professor, “Dodds took my ‘hot potato’, and right now, at least, he’s juggling it for me.”


  A slow smile spread across Sheldon’s face. “I . . . guess I am.” He studied her in wonder. “Maybe we have the answer here.”

  “I wish it were that simple,” sighed Billie. “Besides, even if it were, I’m afraid that before long, you’d get very tired of juggling.”

  Her statement brought an idea to Sheldon’s mind, an idea that might prove worth acting upon. It was perfectly obvious what Bliss needed. It was a husband to carry her ‘hot potato’!

  He finished his pie in silence, then sat back. He had the answer. With a self-satisfied expression, he pronounced, excellent pie, excellent.”

  “It is at that,” Henry said, walking over to the counter and cutting himself a generous piece.

  Sheldon stood up abruptly. “If you two will excuse me, I’ll be going. Nice to see you, Henry.”

  Before Henry could swallow his mouthful of pie, Sheldon was out of the kitchen with Billie running after him. As they reached the front door, he turned to his charge who, he knew, had followed him.

  “Bliss?”

  “Yes, Dodds?” she said, looking up at him.

  He noticed, with some disquiet, how expressive and warm her large, brown eyes were. “Uh, would you allow me to juggle your ‘hot potato’ for a while longer?”

  “You really want to do this for me?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling.

  Her smile, Sheldon noted, was the most winsome he had ever seen on a young woman.

  Eighteen

  Ever since Saturday, Vickie Blume had been bursting with curiosity and speculation over the activities and possible relationship going on between Billie Bliss and her handsome professor. Finally, Vickie spilled the news to Nettie Newman Tuesday afternoon during their meeting. Vickie could tell that Nettie was shocked, even though she tried to hide it.

  “This is most unusual, Vickie,” Nettie said, trying to sound casual.

  “It certainly isn’t like Dr. Ackerman is it?” she giggled.

  “Not at all. However, I’m sure there’s good reason for it, but I do hope you’ll keep this to yourself, Vickie. Remember, you signed an agreement not to divulge any information about the project to anyone so that other girls can participate in a later extension of it.”

  “I remember,” she confessed. “I did tell Sandy and Jane, but they promised not to tell anyone.”

  “Oh?” This brought Nettie more concern. “Well then, I need to call and remind them of their promise,” she said, as if it were of no real consequence.

  After her meeting with Vickie, Nettie could hardly hold herself back from calling the Bittles and the Ozogs. Why would Sheldon rent those kind of videos for the project? Whatever could be going on with him and Billie?

  Reluctantly, she decided not to pursue it—for now anyway—and wait and see. After all, she knew Sheldon well enough to know that everything was on the up and up. It was . . . wasn’t it?

  -

  Lora Lemmon drove her old, blue 1982 Volkswagen toward the west side of Claytonville, pulled into the parking lot of Phillip’s Pharmacy, and came to a stop. It was the first of August and the hot, muggy air was smothering, sapping her energy as she shuffled into the building and up to the pharmacy counter.

  “May I help you?” the pharmacist asked.

  “Do you have two prescriptions for Ella Lemmon?”

  He turned and searched through the already filled prescriptions and brought two over to her. “That will be forty-three dollars and ninety-five cents.”

  Lora, feeling resentment toward her mother, searched through her purse and pulled out a worn-looking wallet. Withdrawing forty-four dollars, she handed it to him. She received the change, put it into her wallet, and took the white sack from him. She retreated to her car, feeling even more tired.

  The resentment still broiling inside her, she drove six blocks and turned into the graveled driveway of her home. She remained in the car thinking, remembering how her mother had rummaged through her dresser drawers and found the hundred dollars that Dr. Ackerman’s benefactor had donated to each of the students of the 280 class who filled out the form. Her mother had tearfully accosted her and accused her of attempting to hide this windfall, complaining that she needed more medicine.

  Lora was twenty-five years old and feeling desperate to leave home. The hundred dollars would have helped toward the goal of living in her own apartment, away from her mother. For three years now, she had been a part-time student at Fairfield University while working at a fast-food place almost full time. With one more year to go she had been forced to take on the added burden of supporting both herself and her mother.

  She studied the white, wood-clad house in front of her with its sidegabled roof, narrow windows, and small covered entry porch. It needed paint and a new roof. The yard, with its overgrown lawn, several spindly rose bushes, and two overgrown hickory trees, needed tending and watering. Selfpity almost choked her as she thought of Billie Bliss’ big beautiful home.

  “It isn’t fair,” she mumbled. “It just isn’t fair!”

  She opened the door and got out. Her legs felt weighted down as she walked to the front porch. She knew, before she opened the door, where her mother would be. She was right. The soft, flabby, hulk of Ella Lemmon was half-reclining on the couch watching some soap operas she had taped previously, so she could sleep in.

  Like others who hid from life, Ella Lemmon kept the blinds perpetually drawn. Prescriptions and over-the-counter medicines cluttered the lamp table.

  The small coffee table in front of the couch was crowded with the remains of snacks and meals from several days.

  Engrossed in the television, Ella Lemmon didn’t hear her daughter enter the house, and it wasn’t until Lora shoved the white sack under her nose that she became aware.

  “What took you so long, Lora?” she whined, “I needed these prescriptions.”

  “It was the best I could do, Ma.” Turning abruptly, she went toward the kitchen. She stopped at the door and groaned at the sight of dirty dishes everywhere.

  “Ma! You promised you’d clean up the kitchen if I bought you those prescriptions.”

  “I will, Lora, I will. It’s just that I’ve had another migraine today.”

  Lora bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at her mother, whose aches and pains seemed to come and go conveniently. She decided to eat at work and let her mother fend for herself in this filthy kitchen. She went into the bedroom, feeling so tired that she lay down on the bed. She desperately needed a nap before going to work, but her mind wouldn’t let her. Ever since Saturday, she couldn’t quit thinking about Dr. Ackerman. In her mind, he was the last person in the world who would rent those kinds of movies. Yet he had!

  As she lay there, her thoughts went back to the day she’d signed up for Dr. Ackerman’s class. She had hit bottom. Her hopes of ever pulling herself up and out of the mire were dashed when her mother had informed her the day before, that, because of her migraines she probably would never be able to go back to work.

  From the very first day of class, Lora had been aware of Billie Bliss. She noticed how beautiful she was. Her hair was thick and glossy, unlike her own stringy, mousy hair. The only thing that made her feel better was that Billie Bliss was a little overweight, too. However, it wasn’t long before she realized that Billie had the money to buy beautiful clothes with which to hide her figure. This was the last straw. Her hopelessness turned into envy. When Billie was chosen as one of the four girls to participate in the project, the envy turned into something Lora had never felt before— jealousy.

  One day, on impulse, she followed Billie home. She was living where Lora herself wanted to—in a nice, little apartment. She wanted to see inside, so she parked the car, walked around to the back door, and knocked, on the pretext of asking Billie if she knew of another apartment like this one.

  Lora hadn’t expected Billie to be so nice. It mitigated her jealousy somewhat, but not for long. When Billie invited her in and Lora saw that her
apartment was just the kind she herself wanted, the jealousy came back in a rush. It wasn’t fair! She also learned that Billie’s apartment was only three blocks from her parents home at 303 Maple Avenue.

  After leaving Billie’s place, Lora drove past the nearby Bliss home. It took her breath away. It was a beautiful old, three-story home. The yard was perfectly landscaped and well kept. No doubt they had a gardener. Why was Billie chosen as one of the four project participants? she thought bitterly. She didn’t need any help with the expenses of her schooling!

  All of a sudden, a thought struck Lora. Could those movies Dr. Ackerman rented have anything to do with Billie? She had learned from Vickie Blume that he was the one who was counseling Billie. The idea was tantalizing. If by any chance it was true, what could she do with the information? What should she do? At the moment, she didn’t know, but, she mused, this kind of juicy information might come in handy some time.

  -

  Wednesday after class, Billie knocked on Dr. Ackerman’s office door. She could see him through the blinds, his head studiously bent over something as he yelled, “Come in.”

  Billie opened the door and stepped in. “Good morning, Dr. Ackerman.”

  He looked up. “Bliss!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up. “I mean, Miss Bliss,” he corrected himself and grinned. “It’s nice of you to drop in.” For some reason her presence brought to his mind snatches from the poem “Pippa Passes” by Robert Browning: “Pippa passes. . . God’s in his heaven—All’s right with the world!”

  Greatly pleased at his reaction, Billie said, “It’s nice to drop in, Dr. Ackerman. How are your arms?”

  He looked puzzled. “My arms?”

  “Are they sore from juggling?”

  “Oh.” He chuckled. “Not a bit sore. I’m very muscular and strong you see.”

  Billie giggled. “I’m glad of that. My arms needed a rest. I came by to invite you to my home tonight or tomorrow night to see one or two of my collection of romantic movies so that you can learn what a romantic movie is.”