The Light in My Heart

by Jerry Rosendorn

  “I appreciate all of your comments. I find this exercise to be helpful in understanding how you would judge your own. The real reason our speaker could not attend tonight is that he became ill. When we found out, we decided to set up this make believe situation. Even though this situation did not occur, it could have. Most importantly, your responses were real and well-reasoned. They expressed concern and came from your hearts. But campers, do you see the difference in how you reacted when you were judging unknown violators versus when you discovered it was someone you knew? There are lessons here for all of us.”

  The girl who left the room now returned with a smile on her face.

  I took the director’s observations to heart.

  The next morning, my father told me we would be leaving right after breakfast. After I packed, I went to the dining hall to meet Carol.

  During breakfast, I told Carol how much I enjoyed being with her. She responded with her usual smile and handed me a piece of paper with her telephone number. When I looked at the area code, I realized her West Covina number was a toll call; something my parents would never allow. How was I going to contact her? I had to figure out something.

  We said our good-byes.

  As I drove home with my father, I was very quiet, consumed with my thoughts and images of Carol. I kept seeing her lying on the hay with her bra nearly removed from her body. From that image, I replayed our embrace and our kiss.

  As I thought more about my problem, I remembered Richard, a neighbor I had known since elementary school. His parents worked as real estate agents. I thought they must make enough phone calls each month to justify a special arrangement with the phone company.

  I told Richard about Carol and how I couldn’t call her from my house. Richard knew my parents, so he understood the problem.

  “Jake,” he said, draping his arm around my shoulder with fraternal affection, “Whenever you want to call this girl, let me know and you can use our phone.”

  I couldn’t thank him enough.

  In late December, after I passed the driving test, I called Carol from Richard’s house; we made a date for early January. With my driver’s license in hand, I was now equipped to go out on my first real date.

  I still had a few more hurdles to clear. First, I had to tell my parents I wanted to go out. That would be easy compared to the second hurdle which is where do I tell them I’m going? I knew they’d never allow me to drive the car to see Carol. So I told them I was going to a party in the Valley and they seemed to be okay with that.

  A few days before the date, I called the Automobile Club for directions and a helpful agent created a route that included several freeways; I’d never driven on a freeway.

  When the night of our date arrived, I was riddled with nerves so I drove very slowly clinging to the slow lane. During each of the thirty-five miles from my house to Carol’s, I was consumed with thoughts of what would happen if I got into an accident or got a traffic ticket? How would I explain it to my parents?

  Lucky for me, there was no incident.

  As planned, I took Carol to a movie. When the movie was over, we went out for dinner at a local coffee shop; then I drove her home. After walking her to her front door, I leaned down and kissed her goodnight. When I thanked her for our date, I felt compelled to say, “I’d love to see you again,” to which she agreed.

  On the way home, I realized it was a tremendous risk driving to West Covina to see her. As lovely as Carol was, she was GU, “Geographically Undesirable.”

  I never saw Carol again.

  The next day, I drove to my friend Sheila’s house. She had been a friend for many years and was someone I could turn to with girl problems. Sheila had a boyfriend named Lyle who drove from Orange County each weekend to see her.

  I walked into Sheila’s house that afternoon and saw Lyle in the living room. As I moved closer to them, my eyes were drawn to a girl sitting on the couch waving at me with a big smile. Her name was Helen and she was about to become one of the great mistakes in my life.

  Chapter 14

  “How did it make you feel to be the older boy? You were sixteen and the campers were fifteen.”

  I smiled with an air of confidence, “It felt pretty good; the girls seemed to be jockeying for my attention.”

  She lulled me into an air of confidence by saying, “The Big Man on Campus,” then came at me from another direction, “Though the big man was still lying.”

  “Dr. Fox, I had to go out there and see her.”

  “Why? To finish the job of taking off her bra?”

  “Dr. Fox, I admit my fantasy was to be with her again in that barn, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. When I think back to how I felt, I had a strong urge to be with her again. She gave me a feeling I had someone to be close to and share things with. It was a combination of many things: Her concerned look when we talked, the way she held me, the way she kissed me back, and most importantly, talking and sharing. All of these things were so emotionally satisfying; I wanted to be with her in the worst way.”

  Dr. Fox looked away from me and made a note on her pad, then looked up again to further inquire, “But Jake, you drove thirty-five freeway miles; too many things could have gone wrong. Was your need that strong?”

  I felt very sure about my response. “Yes, the need to drive those miles to see Carol was that strong. It is similar to what drug addicts say; the desire to use outweighs their common sense. I had to go out there and see Carol to get a fix on my need for a connection with her.”

  Dr. Fox pressed me further, “So, was it worth it? More importantly, did you learn anything in the process?”

  I nodded to let Dr. Fox know that my good sense had prevailed. “While driving back that night, I was scared to death I would make a driving error. My good sense finally took over; it was not worth the drive to West Covina to see Carol. She was nice, but after talking to her away from the retreat, I discovered I was too nervous to enjoy being there and our conversations weren’t that special after all.”

  Chapter 15

  1966-1967

  How did I ever get involved with Helen? Today, I wouldn’t give her a second look. During that time in my life, she fulfilled a need, she paid attention to me and she gave me the sense I had a girlfriend.

  Helen was five feet tall, with dark hair and tri-colored eyes, a so-so figure, but she was a “mental case.” Even at the age of sixteen, I knew she was cunning and crazy. She figured out what she wanted and went after it. The “it” was me.

  Sheila knew I’d driven to West Covina the night before to go out with Carol. As I walked into her house, she asked how it went.

  “It was okay,” I said quickly, not wanting to go into details with Helen there. I wanted alone time with Sheila to tell her Carol was officially GU.

  As I walked over to Helen, Sheila introduced us and said their families were old friends.

  “Hi, Helen,” I said smiling.

  “How yah be?” Helen said using her trademark greeting. At first, I thought it was cute. After a while, however, it became annoying.

  After introductions, Sheila and Lyle disappeared leaving me alone in the living room with Helen.

  For conversation, we played the game of “Jewish Geography.” She named some people; I told her whether or not I knew them. When it was my turn, Helen caught me completely off guard; she came over, sat on my lap and kissed me. The kisses were luscious; her perfume aroused me.

  After a few minutes of limited passion, we shared information about ourselves. I was surprised to find out Helen went to Grant; I’d never seen her at school. She told me she was in the twelfth grade, one year ahead of me; I was flattered she was attracted to me. This was one of those senior high school taboos. A boy could date a younger girl, but older girls didn’t date younger boys.

  I liked the attention she gave me, especially when we kissed. We m
ust have talked and kissed for about two hours when I realized it was time for me to go home. My parents let me have the car to run some errands; I’d made a detour to see Sheila.

  As I got up to leave, Helen gave me her telephone number and made me promise to call. I wasn’t sure if I would; it was just easier to agree.

  At school on Monday, Helen came by the bench where I hung out at lunchtime. “How yah be?” she asked.

  I smiled back, “I be fine.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” she asked in a voice that suddenly turned harsh. “Please call me tonight.”

  “I will,” I responded feeling obligated. Just then I noticed something odd about her eyes.

  “Helen, when I saw you at Sheila’s house, you had green eyes, now they’re blue. How did the color change?”

  “The color depends upon my mood,” she responded in a tone that suggested it was common knowledge.

  “If I’m just feeling okay, my eyes are brown. If I’m feeling good, they’re green. If I’m feeling great, my eyes turn blue. It all depends upon who I’m with.”

  As ridiculous as this sounded, my ego soared at the thought that not only had a twelfth grade girl sat on my lap and kissed me, I made her eyes turn blue; I couldn’t see my own naivety.

  By that time in my life, I was having considerable success visiting girls in their homes when their parents were out; it happened with Helen. She lived in an apartment building six blocks from my house. Helen asked me to come by when her parents were at work. With the use of my mother’s 1958 Buick Special, I no longer needed my bike for transportation.

  I saw Helen every day in school, along with calling her every night. In addition, we went out to dinner and to a movie most weekends. My view of her was changing with each encounter; she was a strange girl.

  “It’s that time of the month; I’m in pain,” she would say each month, followed by a fit of crying and complaining about cramps.

  “If you love me the way I love you,” she insisted, “you’d feel my pain.”

  These conversations were very uncomfortable for me; I wanted to end them as soon as she started in about her pain, but she wouldn’t let me get off the phone.

  A few months into our relationship, Helen and I were having sexual relations in her bedroom. When I brought up the subject of protection, she told me not to worry; she was on the pill. I knew this was a method of birth control, yet, I still wondered why a teenage girl was taking them.

  “Those times of the month are awful for me,” she replied, “My doctor put me on the pill to help ease the pain and regulate my cycle.”

  I wasn’t sure what she was talking about except that I knew that the pill was a method of protection; I thought I could trust her.

  A few weeks after we started having sex, Helen shocked me with the news she might be pregnant. As I digested her words, I had a sick feeling and my entire life was spinning downward; I was in a panic. Then, knowing I had to take responsibility, I calmed myself down.

  “If you’re pregnant,” I said, mustering up my most honorable self, “we’ll move to Arizona, get married, and have the baby.”

  “If it turns out I’m pregnant,” she responded quickly, “I’ll hate you.” Her eyes were now dark brown.

  Her words were like a hard slap to my face; didn’t she realize it takes two?

  In April, to ease some of the anxiety we both were feeling, Helen and I went to Disneyland with my friend Richard from across the street and his girlfriend Ann. This was our second visit to the Park. The first time we were there, we held each other and kissed on every ride; this time, however, I felt like I was with Ida, my Russian-born grandmother; sitting apart on each ride without any meaningful conversation.

  Later that evening, Helen came out of the bathroom and told me she wasn’t pregnant. To say I was relieved was an understatement; I wanted to jump up and cheer. But, instead, I took a deep breath and looked up to the heavens with gratitude.

  After our trip to Disneyland, Helen always seemed to be annoyed with me no matter what I did. Yet, I didn’t want to abandon her because of what she’d been through with the pregnancy scare. With her birthday in May, I wanted to do something special for her.

  I decided to throw her a surprise birthday party with the help of two of her friends, and Helen’s parents. Tom and Gina were Helen’s closest friends; we double-dated with them a few times. They gladly agreed to help me plan the party. Likewise, Helen’s parents agreed to let me host the party at their apartment.

  The plan was that the four of us would go out to dinner. Along the way, I’d say I left my wallet at Helen’s house, and we needed to go back and get it.

  Everything was set. I drove to Helen’s apartment where Tom and Gina met us. Tom offered to drive to our fake destination. After driving for ten minutes, I set the plan in motion.

  “I can’t find my wallet,” I said patting my pockets. “It must have slipped out of my back pocket.”

  Tom pulled the car over; we searched the backseat to convince Helen my wallet was not there.

  “It must have slipped out when I sat on the couch in Helen’s living room,” I said. “My cash for dinner is in my wallet. We need to go back.”

  Helen had calmly helped me search the backseat, but when I said we had to go back, she got upset.

  “How could you be so stupid to lose your wallet?” she screamed. “I was really looking forward to a nice dinner for my birthday; now you’ve ruined it.”

  We drove back to her apartment in silence. When she entered her front door, her friends yelled, “Surprise!”

  Once Helen realized the whole story was a set-up, she became very sweet; she even gave me a kiss on the cheek. I felt like an idiot trying to be nice to her; I had seen her true nature.

  Once the party was underway, I walked out to the balcony, leaned over the railing and stared down to the street below. While my head was shaking and my eyes were tearing up; my brain took over and asked: “What was I doing with her?”

  Chapter 16

  As I watched Dr. Fox get ready to ask me about this period in my life; I began to wonder what kind of impact Helen had on me. I knew it was a bad relationship when it began, but now, what about the long-term effect it had on me?

  “Jake, let’s talk about your ego. The first time you met Helen she sat on your lap and kissed you. What were you thinking?”

  I smiled as I recalled that feeling so many years ago. “It was something, Dr. Fox. I wanted a girlfriend and assumed I’d have to work hard to get one. Yet, here was a girl who made it so easy for me. My ego shot way up thinking I was desirable.”

  Dr. Fox had a different interpretation. “The time you spent with Helen seems similar to a magic trick; like a slight of hand. What you saw was not what you got.”

  “You’re right, Dr. Fox. Initially, I thought she was a normal girl who liked me; I was aroused. Then, as reality set in, I realized she was mean and crazy. Yet, I couldn’t walk away; I wanted her to like me. The worst things got, the more I tried to make it better. As she became more demanding, I tried even harder to do things for her, like the surprise party. I wanted to fix the problems between us; to make things better.”

  She looked at me like she clearly understood what I was about, even though her next comment had a sarcastic ring to it. “You are indeed, Mr. Fixer.” I nodded my head.

  “During the pregnancy scare, I knew for sure she wasn’t the right girl for me. But, to try and please her, and smooth over all she’d gone through, I threw her the party. As I leaned over the balcony that night, I realized I am a fixer; always trying to make things right. Yet, to my credit, I knew Helen didn’t appreciate my kindness. She didn’t deserve me.”

  Dr. Fox reacted hard to my comment with a scribbled note on her pad, then with words to shake me into reality. “Forget about what Helen deserved. That’s something a victim might say. What about you?
What drove you to get involved and stay with her? You need to look at yourself without analyzing her. She had her own issues; you can’t change her. Make a commitment to improve your being. In that way, you can avoid choosing more Helens in your life.”

  “Dr. Fox, I’ll always be a fixer because I want to make things good. I have a great need to try and smooth out problems.”

  She frowned a little, an expression that sent a clear message she didn’t like my response. “You can’t make nice out of not nice,” she said, focusing her gaze to my eyes. “Was that the last time you saw her?”

  “I wasn’t ready to walk away that night. Helen and I went on one last date in June to celebrate my seventeenth birthday. Helen was so happy with her surprise party that she wanted to be with me on my birthday; she told me to choose where I wanted to go.

  “My choice was to see the movie, ‘The Sand Pebbles.’ I was a big fan of historical films and I thought Steve McQueen was a cool actor. I also read a good review of the film and wanted to see it. I purchased tickets in advance and on the night of my birthday, we drove to an old theater in Hollywood.

  About forty minutes into the film, there’s a scene in the engine room of the ship where one of the workers is mangled while working on a large engine gear; he looked pretty bad.

  “When this happened in the film, Helen jumped out of her seat, grabbed my arm, digging her nails into me, and spoke harshly, ‘How could you take me to see a movie like this?’

  “That was my breaking point. I got up and asked her to follow me. We walked back to my car and I drove her home in silence. When I walked her back to her apartment, I looked at her for the last time and said, ‘Good-bye.’ I turned away and never spoke to her again.”