Evidence of Love

by John Bloom

  That night, when Allan and Betty emerged from room 321 for the final time, the entire group gathered to celebrate the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper (using an “alternate” modernized text), during which they were instructed to sip the communion wine in the Marriage Encounter fashion, with arms linked. Afterward, in the final emotional climax, they were remarried in a ceremony in which they led each other through the traditional vows. Many of their “encountered” friends surprised them with their presence at the ceremony, and others sent their love through a package of greeting cards, congratulating them on their new commitment. When they got in the car to go home, the radio happend to be on, broadcasting the wrap-up show for the Dallas Cowboys game. Allan switched it off; it was just noise to him, part of a past life. Then, when they got home that night, they fielded calls until bedtime, all from joyful well-wishers, soon to be part of their “Flame group” (as in “Keep the flame burning”), which would meet regularly to keep the spirit of fellowship alive.

  The Gores ran one errand before they returned to Wylie, though. They stopped by the Montgomery house in Fairview to pick up Bethany, whom Candy had kept for the weekend. Allan went to the door while Betty waited in the car.

  “How was it?” asked Candy as she handed him the baby.

  “It was really good for us.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The next morning Allan was still riding his emotional high as he dressed for work. On the drive into Richardson, he tried to shut out all sensations except thoughts of Betty. He wanted nothing to do with the outside world. His life had changed. He wanted to concentrate all his thoughts and feelings on his marriage, which was once again the most important thing in his life. Yet when he got to work, he knew that sooner or later he would need to call Candy. She would want to meet him for lunch. He had to face that squarely. He had to be honest.

  They met a week later; she brought a picnic lunch and they went back to the park in North Dallas. Allan did most of the talking. He told Candy all about Marriage Encounter and what it had done for them.

  “We learned a lot about each other,” he said. “I think maybe I was wrong about Betty in some ways. I think a lot of the things she doesn’t like about me were based on fears of loneliness instead of bitchiness. We told each other things that we hadn’t even thought about.”

  “That’s good,” said Candy. “I’m glad.”

  “I don’t necessarily feel different about you,” said Allan, “but I do feel strongly that I want to give my full resources to my family. The relationship with you is taking away some of the emotional involvement and energy that I could direct toward Betty and the kids. I’m not sure how long this feeling will last or what will happen, but I know I don’t want to interfere with it.”

  “What does that mean for me?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Allan suddenly had no desire to go to bed with Candy again.

  “I’m not sure I can deal with not seeing you,” said Candy.

  “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just trying to explain how I feel.”

  “Does this mean you can’t see me?”

  “I don’t know. They said an awful lot of things at those Marriage Encounter meetings, but they never said you couldn’t see someone else.”

  “You’re still using a double standard.”

  After making the strongest argument ever for breaking off the affair, Allan couldn’t bring himself to say the words. They left the issue hanging, but agreed to meet again the next day. When they did, Candy came directly to the point.

  “Allan, you seem to be leaving it up to me. So I’ve decided. I won’t call. I won’t try to see you. I won’t bother you anymore.”

  “That’s fine with me,” said Allan. “I can do that.”

  They both cried a little, because they both knew it was over. Allan was secretly relieved that she had made the decision, not him. That way he didn’t have to bear the guilt. He hadn’t planned for it to happen that day. That’s just the way it worked out.

  Candy had mixed emotions as well. She was telling the truth when she said she didn’t know how she would deal with the loss of Allan. She had grown comfortable with the idea of loving two people. She loved Allan’s casual phone calls and small kindnesses, and she would miss them. The good news was that she didn’t have to make any more damned picnic lunches.

  Betty Gore continued her regular visits to the doctor even after the Marriage Encounter weekend, mostly to get tranquilizers and painkillers for her various ailments. But one day in mid-October she rushed to his office and was much more agitated than usual: she had discovered a lump on her left breast. The doctor took a look at it and almost immediately diagnosed it as a benign fibrosis of some kind, totally harmless, but just to be sure he sent Betty to another doctor for a second opinion. The other doctor made the same diagnosis and told Betty to stop taking birth control pills and reduce her caffeine intake.

  That night Betty told Allan about her fears, especially the panic she felt when she first found the lump. Allan comforted her, and then they sat down to do their daily “ten and ten.” This is a Marriage Encounter routine in which encountered couples choose a topic, write love letters on that topic for ten minutes, then spend ten minutes talking about the letters. Allan and Betty had been doing it faithfully every night since the weekend. They chose the topic of “growing old together.”

  “There’s only one thing that bothers me,” wrote Betty. “I’m so afraid that something will happen and I won’t get to see the kids grow up and be around to grow old. I guess with a new baby it suddenly occurs to me that something could happen and I won’t see her grow up. Now that we’re really getting things together too, I’m just very afraid that something will happen and it will all be taken away. Are all my feelings silly? I hope they are just part of my being depressed which I don’t really feel too much, but there’s definitely something there. I sure have no reason to feel this way.”

  That weekend the Gores went to church, but it was obvious that Betty was still disturbed by the lump, which hadn’t gone away. After church, Alisa Gore had gone home with Jenny Montgomery, a common occurrence, and, as usual, Betty called in the late afternoon to make arrangements for Alisa to come back. Candy set out in the station wagon for the Seis Lagos subdivision—the halfway point between Fairview and Wylie, where they usually met—but was surprised to find Allan there instead of Betty.

  “Betty’s found a lump in her breast,” he said, “and she’s very upset.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “They think it’s benign.”

  “Good.”

  The next day Candy drove to Wylie to see Betty. As soon as she entered the house on Dogwood, Betty collapsed into her arms, tears streaming down her face. Candy was amazed. Marriage Encounter had changed her. It was the first genuine display of emotion she had ever witnessed from Betty Gore. Candy felt closer to her, too, as she stroked her head and told her she was sure it was nothing, she had nothing to worry about.

  A few days later Candy received a long letter from Allan. Apparently he was taking the Marriage Encounter experience to heart and expressing himself in writing to everyone. At any rate, he tried to explain why it was better for both of them that they not see each other any longer except at church. “We were both using each other,” he said. He also made a reference to the conversation they’d had at Seis Lagos, indicating he thought Candy was “cold” when he’d told her about Betty’s lump. He said he would always think the best of her, always love her in his way, but things were better this way.

  Candy showed the letter to Sherry Cleckler. Sherry tried to console her, but she was obviously taking things very hard.

  “It’s so unfair,” she kept saying.

  Of the dozens of singles bars in Dallas, most of them trendy, stylish, and short-lived, the Currency Club stood out as an exception. Located in the basement of a Marriott Hotel, its warm, dark interior was a haven for lonely
people somewhat beyond the point of competing in dress and beauty with the college-age people who inhabited more fashionable places. The Currency Club was a little quieter, its clientele a little older. The dance floor even had a little space for dancing. It adhered to the age-old formula of at least two men to every woman, but most of those men on any given night were between thirty and forty-five. Most of them appeared to be unattached.

  Candy sought refuge at the Currency Club in the weeks just after breaking up with Allan. It was difficult to arrange, but Sherry was all for it and wanted to go along herself. With the help of a young girl who worked with Sherry at the beauty salon, Candy and Sherry were able to sneak over to the Currency on nights when their husbands were out of town or involved with other things. Mostly they would just have a few drinks and dance and flirt with the men. On some nights they would meet a special friend named Chuck. Chuck had an eye for Candy, and the two of them would sit together in a booth and sometimes Chuck would put his arm around her. It was not anything too serious, especially since Candy and Sherry usually had to get back in time to relieve the baby sitter, but it amused them for a while and made Candy feel a little better about not having Allan to talk to anymore.

  The last week in October the Montgomerys walked next door to the home of their neighbor the mayor, Peter Haas, for his annual Halloween party. Candy was looking forward to the party a little more than Pat, for in the back of her mind she wondered whether Richard, a man she had met at last year’s party, would be there. He was around forty, tall and thin, with a mustache, light brown hair with a hint of blond. She had flirted with him, and they had danced a great deal. When they got to the party this year, she was delighted to see that he was there again, and she was startled to realize that he remembered her as well. Again they danced together, far more times than they should have, and afterwards they sat together on the piano. Richard was a natural conversationalist, smooth and fluent. He asked about Candy’s writing classes (one of her favorite subjects), and she asked about his childhood (one of his), and they talked about animals and children and along the way she discovered that Richard was married and had three kids. At some point Richard leaned over to her and whispered.

  “What’s your number?”

  Candy smiled at him. “Six.”

  “No. Really. Can I have your number?”

  “Oh, you mean my phone number. I thought you meant my favorite number.” She instantly gave it to him.

  Richard called the next day and asked Candy if she would meet him for lunch. Richard didn’t know how lucky he was, because Ian had preschool that week and a day was available. When Candy related all the logistical details, Richard suggested that, in that case, why not meet him right after dropping off Ian at school—in other words, at 9:15 in the morning. Richard was a baggage-tag salesman and could pretty much determine his own hours. Candy agreed, and went over to Sherry’s later that day to tell her something promising was shaping up.

  They met at a shopping center near the freeway in Plano. Candy left her car there and they drove to the Marriott in North Dallas (a now familiar haunt), where they went into the restaurant for a late breakfast. Actually all they had was coffee, several cups of it, as they chatted about their children and their past lives. Suddenly, Richard said, “Would you be offended if I asked you to go to bed?”

  “No,” said Candy, just as quickly.

  Richard was certainly a fast mover. Candy like that. It excited her. He went to the front desk and got them a room, and they had almost an hour and a half before she had to leave to pick up Ian.

  One thing she could tell right away: Richard was going to be a great way to forget Allan. He was very accomplished in bed, the experimental type that she had always been looking for, and he was impetuous and forceful and persistent. He called again the very next day, told her how great it had been, and wanted to know when they could do it again. When she explained that she only had Tuesdays and Thursdays free, he said, “Great, we can do it every Tuesday and Thursday.” That wasn’t exactly what Candy had in mind, but she was lured by the adventure of it all. She confided to Sherry that she had finally found a real lover.

  Richard’s dates were more romantic than Allan’s. Usually Richard would take off the full four hours so they could do other things besides sex. Once they went Christmas shopping at Valley View Mall, where Richard had Candy’s picture taken sitting on Santa’s knee. Richard took her to some nice restaurants—quite a change from the troublesome picnic lunches for Allan. When they wanted to have sex, they would go to a private apartment in North Dallas; Richard would pay his friend for getting the key for part of the day. The sex was pretty good, especially at first, although as time went on Candy felt the boredom returning as Richard started to run out of tricks.

  Everything about the affair was torrid. When for some reason Candy couldn’t meet him on a Tuesday or a Thursday, Richard acted really hurt and complained endlessly. Sometimes Candy would give in just to avoid hurting his feelings. In a month and a half, in fact, she probably slept more with Richard than she had slept with Allan in a year. When she didn’t see Richard, he was always calling. He even came to the house once while Sherry was there. And at that point Candy decided that things were getting out of control. She knew that Richard traveled a lot, and supposed she was far from the first woman he had had an extramarital affair with. He made her feel guilty, in a way Allan never had. He even made her feel threatened, in a way that was both exciting and scary. Sometimes he would try to tempt her into thinking about things she knew she should stay away from.

  “Don’t you think I would make you happy if we were married?” he would say.

  “We would get tired of each other like all couples do.”

  “You and I? We would never get tired of talking.”

  Conversation like that scared Candy; she didn’t want to deal with it.

  Finally, after just a few weeks of tempestuous lovemaking, Candy told him she thought they should end the affair.

  “I don’t think this is good for me anymore,” she said.

  Richard was not only hurt; he was furious. He yelled at her, told her she was being insensitive about what they had together.

  “I’m cheating Pat, and I don’t like that.”

  Then he refused to talk about it. But this time Candy really had made up her mind. No matter how many times he called, she resisted all his entreaties. He was too big a burden. He was infringing on time she wanted to devote to other people. She was bored with him.

  One night shortly after the breakup, Candy and Sherry figured out a way to go back to the Currency Club. There was a great selection of men. Candy danced her heart out and didn’t get home until 3 A.M.

  The next day she called Sherry to talk.

  “Maybe an affair is not what I’m looking for,” she said. “I keep looking for somebody to make me happy, and none of them can. Maybe I need to do something for myself.”

  Richard called one more time, begging Candy to give it another chance.

  “I’ve decided it’s not what I want, Richard.”

  “What do you want?”

  Candy didn’t know for sure, but she knew where she might start: Marriage Encounter.

  Candy had first broached the subject with Allan. She knew she had promised not to call him, but it seemed like this fell under the heading of professional advice. Candy had been amazed by the changes wrought in Betty by the Marriage Encounter weekend. Several of the women at church noticed it, too. The sullenness was gone. Betty didn’t seem so cold, or so snobbish. She could talk normally to other people. Candy had another reason for being curious about Marriage Encounter. She had seen it change Allan into a completely devoted family man almost overnight. He was so transformed by the experience that he was truly hurt when he thought Candy didn’t show enough sensitivity to Betty’s lump. Allan was so willing to please Betty that he had even agreed to her request that they leave Lucas Church. They had started attending Wylie Methodist, but returned to Lucas whenever Ro
n was not going to be there for some reason or other. (The forgiveness born of the Marriage Encounter experience didn’t extend to Ron.)

  “Should Pat and I get into Marriage Encounter?” she asked Allan.

  “I don’t know whether it would be good for you and Pat or not,” Allan told her.

  Normally Candy would have thought the idea was ludicrous—she disliked the pushiness of the Marriage Encounter people, and she distrusted group therapy—but Allan was one of the most levelheaded people she knew, and it had worked for him.

  “I’m having real difficulties getting over us,” she said. “I’m miserable. I need to try something.”

  “I’m not sure it would be wise, Candy. They say that Marriage Encounter is definitely not for couples who are having serious problems. And from what you told me about your feelings for Pat, I’m just not so sure.”

  “You make me so curious about it, though. Does it really work for you?”

  “So far it has.”

  Then Allan confirmed the miraculous changes in Betty since the weekend. Once they had gotten back to Wylie, she had not only wanted to keep up the love-letter writing and the dialogue sessions, but she quickly volunteered them to be leaders for the Flame group in their area. Her enthusiasm ranked with that of JoAnn Garlington.

  Despite Allan’s mild warnings, Candy added Marriage Encounter to her list. It was a long list she was making, of new and different experiences she intended to try in 1980. As she told Sherry, she wanted to “rediscover me.” She wanted to stop looking for fulfillment in men—she had almost decided that was impossible anyway—and try to make something that was truly her own. Maybe she would write a novel. She had tried that once before, and even written about seventy pages based on her mother’s family history. Richard had reminded her of it; he thought she was a good writer. She was talking more often to Jackie Ponder now, calling once a week or so to discuss her new resolve. (Jackie was more than a little relieved when she learned the affair was over.)

  Another thing Candy decided to do was enroll in special advanced English classes at Plano High School. One of her first papers dealt with Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress,” a poem she liked for its depiction of an urgent lover and a reluctant lady. (“The anxious haste of compulsive love and immediate need,” she wrote, “produces a frustration that must result in either compromise or incompleteness.”) At the same time she pitched herself into the hot political issue of the moment, campaigning door-to-door for a bond issue that would be used for improvements to Lovejoy School. Candy took up painting. And most important of all, over coffee one morning she and Sherry formulated a plan to start their own business: they would paint and wallpaper the interiors of houses. It was all they could think of and it was better than sitting around feeling miserable. Neither of the husbands took them very seriously when they mentioned the business—it was to be called “The Covergirls”—and so they redoubled their efforts to make it work.