The War Council

by Ann Shepphird

  “Way different. He forgets to call. He stands me up. And… and… well, you saw that girl he was attached to tonight.”

  “Yes, it showed an incredible lack of respect for you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You deserve better than that.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You deserve someone who treats you well.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You deserve Biff treating you well.”

  “Yeah.”

  She really did understand.

  “That’s what I mean about power. You had it, Cindy, but you gave it up. I’d like to help you get that power back.”

  “You could make it so that Biff acts the way he did in the beginning?”

  “We can make it so that Biff begs to get you back.”

  I liked that. Biff, the scum-sucking fuckface, begging to get me back? Robert Billingsley V begging for me to be his girlfriend again? Maybe even proposing?

  “I think maybe I would like to take you up on your offer.”

  She smiled. “You won’t be sorry.”

  Two days later, I found myself sitting in a room on campus surrounded by professors. It was a Saturday and the way they looked at me and talked about me as if I wasn’t there made me feel like a guinea pig. It was kind of funny. I mean, it was my life they were talking about, but in a way, I wasn’t really involved. Too weird.

  “I think that we can see that Cindy here suffers from a lack of self-esteem. Over the years, she has put up with Biff’s growing lack of attention and instead of standing up to him and demanding respect, she has taken the role of doormat. I think we can also see that this has grown into a classic pressured-insecure dysfunction with Cindy in the role of the insecure partner who craves more attention and Biff the pressured partner who craves space.”

  I wasn’t really sure what she was talking about. How was I a doormat? She looked nice, though. She said her name was Kathy, and she worked in psychological services. I felt like maybe she came and spoke at the house once about the services and how they were open to any student and thinking that she looked nice. Real warm. Like someone’s mom, you know?

  “So,” she continued. “Psychologically, our job will be to build Cindy’s self-confidence up while tearing down Biff’s need for space. In other words, if we lower Biff’s self-esteem—especially in terms of his ability to attract women—we will then create in him a need for security, which he knows he will find with Cindy.”

  “I think I can help with that.”

  Professor Hard Ass spoke. That one really confused the shit out of me. What was Professor Hard Ass doing here? I didn’t think she even liked people. What was she doing in a group that helped relationships? It never occurred to me that Hard Ass—sorry, her real last name was DeVillier and I was supposed to call her Monique—had a life outside the lecture hall. And yet here she was—and in jeans.

  “This lad… Robert… I’m sorry but I refuse to call anyone Biff,” she said.

  That was funny. She said it like it was a dirty word. Like “Biff, pooh.”

  “This Robert was taking my course last semester. Was. He dropped it before finishing so thank god there are no ethical issues involved. But I do believe I just might have the means with which to scramble his brain a bit. You know, a prototypical mind fuck.”

  Wow! She sweared! She said fuck! Wow! Even if they were speaking as if I wasn’t there, I felt like I was experiencing something not many students would ever come close to: professors in jeans, using first names, and swearing!

  “And I think I can work with Cindy here.”

  This super built guy spoke up. Mike was his name. Supposedly he coached the Cal rugby team. I didn’t even know they played rugby at Berkeley, but I guess they did.

  “I’ll get some of the team on it,” he said. “Surreptitiously, of course.”

  Monique cackled. “Surreptitiously? Nice use of syllables, Coach.”

  “No strain here, Prof.”

  Oh snap! What was going on here?

  “Okay, kids, settle down.”

  Maggie spoke. Kids. Funny, huh? They were, like, kind of fun people, you know?

  “Now Hallie,” Maggie continued. “What do you have for us?”

  Professor Wilson stood up. She looked cool. I had never had any of her classes. I wasn’t a poli sci major, after all, and she taught these advanced seminars. Bunny was poli sci and was always going on and on about how cool Professor Wilson was. Bunny wanted to be, like, the first female president someday and tried to emulate Professor Wilson as much as possible.

  Bunny always said that Professor Wilson could have been a real political bigwig if she hadn’t married that wimpy film buff guy, Randy. Nobody could figure out what she saw in him. Even now, he just sat there grinning. Like, what was he thinking?

  Hallie stood up and walked to the front of the room—took command of the room, I should say.

  “Okay, we’ve heard Kathy’s analysis and know what our objectives are: to beat down Biff’s self-esteem while building up Cindy’s. Randy and I have worked out the strategy for what we’re calling—and Monique already referred to—Operation Mindfuck and feel that the best way to tackle the situation is to hit Biff in his own territory, which is…”

  Hallie flipped over the blackboard to reveal a chart on the back. It showed the layout of…

  “The Kingfish. Biff’s turf. His castle, if you will. From our research, we have learned the man spends more time there than any other bar in town. Our agenda should then revolve around how best to hit him where he lives. His security zone. Timing wise, we have to hit tonight. Not only is it Saturday night—aka date night—but…”

  She pulled down another chart. I couldn’t figure out what this one was, but it had dates and lines all over it.

  “…astrologically, we are in superb position. See how mercury is retrograding over here?”

  She pointed to one of the lines, and everyone got this quizzical look like, “no, we have no idea what you are talking about,” but she looked secure.

  “Mercury, as you may know, is the communication planet. When mercury is in retrograde, all hell breaks loose. Never sign a contract when mercury is in retrograde or expect to understand what your spouse or coworker or really anybody is saying. Perfect timing to fuck with Biff’s mind a bit.”

  There it was again: a swear word. This was getting more and more fun. Fuck with Biff’s mind. They knew just what Biff needed.

  “So, we hit tonight. Cindy, your job is to make sure that Biff will be at the Kingfish. Can you do that?” Hallie asked.

  “You want me to ask him to the Kingfish?”

  “No, our plan is to get him there alone.”

  “Oh, okay. I think I can get his fraternity brother Kevin, Kevin Reynolds, to do it,” I said.

  “Kevin Reynolds? Senior? Blond hair?” Kathy asked.

  “Yeah, you know him?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t say how, but I supposed he must have come to psychological services. Wow. I wondered why Kevin would go to psychological services—and what he said to Kathy. Interesting. Kathy turned to the others.

  “I think he will help.”

  “Good,” Hallie said. “Okay, so, we get Biff to the Kingfish. Let’s say 9 o’clock. Once he’s there, Monique will go to work. You know what to do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, now, a little while after Monique goes to work—let’s say 9:30—does that give you enough time?”

  “Plenty.”

  “You seem pretty self-assured,” Mike cracked.

  “You’ve never seen me in action.”

  “Woooo.”

  “Okay, you two,” Hallie continued. “At about 9:30, Cindy will come through the door with Mike and the rugby guys. Now, Cindy, we have to talk about clothes.”

  “Cloth
es?” What was wrong with my clothes?

  “Everything is wrong with your clothes.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m sorry, honey, but button-down shirts and baggy shorts are not sexy. Sorry, Monique, I know how you feel about the objectification of women.”

  “No offense taken,” Monique said. “We’re all working toward a common goal here, and sometimes a little packaging helps.”

  My turn. “Well, I wouldn’t wear a button-down shirt and shorts on a Saturday night anyway.”

  “What would you wear?”

  “Maybe a sweater and jeans,” I said.

  “Yeah, no. Do you have anything maybe a little tighter? A little shorter?”

  Not really. Most of my clothes were on the preppy side. That’s what everybody wore. Really. Well, everybody in the sorority house. Okay, everybody who was kind of preppy in the sorority house. Mostly the freshmen. Okay, so maybe I hadn’t really changed my look since I was a freshman.

  “I’ll take her shopping this afternoon,” said Maggie.

  “Great,” Hallie continued. “What’s important about the evening is that Cindy enter with the guys, appear to be having a fabulous time and then leave. Make sure that Biff notices you. And—this is the most important—do not appear to notice anything Monique does to him.”

  “Does to him?”

  “Monique will be showing Biff a lot of attention, and you have to appear as if you don’t care at all, because after you leave, she’s going to drop him like a hot potato.”

  “Absolutely,” Monique said.

  “Oh.” I thought about that for a moment. Part of me was gleeful at the thought of Biff’s being all heated up and then dumped. There was a teensy part of me that felt kind of sorry for him, but then I remembered him slobbering all over Kitty and I wasn’t sorry anymore.

  “Now, do you have a place you can stay tonight after the Kingfish?” Hallie continued.

  “Yeah.” Bunny was now living in an apartment off campus. I could stay there. She said I was always welcome, and besides, I knew she’d be at Kirk’s. She was always at Kirk’s.

  “Perfect, because Biff may try to contact you after being dumped, and you need to be gone, and you need to turn off your phone completely. This should make him a bit nuts. Actually, the longer you can stay away and avoid looking at your phone, the better. If you could essentially disappear until Monday, that would definitely help our strategy.”

  “Okay.”

  “Randy, honey, do you have anything to add?”

  “Just that you really need to play your role in this scenario, or it’s not going to work, Cindy. You have to appear to be happy as a clam, the belle of the ball, or Biff is going to see through our little script, okay? We’re here to help you, but you have to help us help you, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Tonight, you might feel like you are being mean to Biff, but just remember that we’re working so that you two will ultimately be happier,” Randy said.

  I was starting to see why Hallie liked Randy so much. Okay, he was kind of wimpy. But he was really sweet, and he really seemed to want to help. They all seemed to want to help and looked over at me expectantly. I wasn’t sure what they wanted from me. I mean, if I took them at face value, they just wanted to create happiness for me. It’s not that I wasn’t grateful; I was. But why? Why me?

  I tried to smile and look as self-assured as they did. They all smiled at me, their eyes glistening with expectations: professors with first names, jeans, and swear words trying to help me with my love life.

  At that moment, I thought that things had gotten as bizarre as they could get. I was wrong.

  Chapter Thirteen

  KATHY

  I left Brian with the kids and headed across the Bay Bridge toward Berkeley. I was meeting Maggie at, of all places, the Kingfish. I couldn’t believe it. I was 34 years old, a married woman with children in grammar school, and I was going to spend my Saturday night at that den of iniquity, the Kingfish. If Berkeley was the dating pool, then the Kingfish was its spawning ground. I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic, but the place just reeked of sex—unbridled undergraduate libido-induced sex.

  Obviously, it made for the perfect site for the War Council to go to work on Biff. Still, I didn’t understand why I had to be there. But Maggie insisted. Although at first hesitant, I then realized I could use the time with Maggie to try and overcome Nick’s blunder.

  I couldn’t believe none of us had thought of it before. None of us had asked Nick how long he was staying in the Bay Area or if he was planning to do any time abroad—a natural question to ask of a French literature student. I knew that Maggie could not take being left again, and yet somehow it never occurred to me to make sure that Nick wasn’t going anywhere—or that he would be stupid it enough to bring it up if he was.

  We would have to make sure we were more thorough in our future questioning. Not that I was ready to accept the War Council as an alternative to individual growth or counseling. I wasn’t. Still, if we were going to use the methods, we should have done it right. Been more thorough. If Maggie had been in on it, she would have thought of it, with her ability to address every angle. But she wasn’t in on the AWAC, she was its target, so we didn’t have the use of her brain. We had to go it alone, which meant I had to go it alone with Maggie in a booth at the Kingfish.

  The place was a greasy cesspool. I saw that Maggie had staked out the most strategic spot in the place—a booth with a complete view of the pub. From her vantage point, she could see the bar area, the table area, and the path from the front door to the bathrooms. No one could enter or exit without being spotted. She could also overhear most of the conversations at the bar. I walked over and took my seat across from her.

  Maggie leaned over and whispered furtively, “Quick, order a beer.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we have to look like we belong.”

  “We don’t belong, Maggie. This is a bar for college students and those yearning to relive their college days.”

  “Well, then yearn a little.”

  “Oh, Maggie.”

  “Kathy, stop the psychoanalysis and have a little fun. Forget you’re a fuddy duddy. Oh, and before I forget, after…”

  I didn’t let her finish. “Me? A fuddy duddy?”

  “Yeah, it’s a Saturday night. We’re out at the hottest bar in Berkeley, well, Oakland. Berkeley adjacent. Whatever. Let go and have some fun.”

  “It seems to me it should be you who lets go.”

  “Me?” She looked at me warily.

  “Yeah, you.” I let her stew a minute before I let her have it. “How’s Nick?”

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to bring him up.”

  “Well?”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “I think there’s a lot to say.”

  “What?”

  “Come on, Maggie. What happened?”

  “Nothing. That’s just it. Nothing happened.” She tried to smile as if nothing was wrong but that wasn’t true.

  “Why? What happened to ‘let go and have fun’?”

  “I can’t do it, Kathy. I can’t start something knowing it can’t go anywhere. If I didn’t like him so much, it would be okay. I could just have a fling. But with Nick, I just can’t.”

  Her turmoil made me realize that Maggie had fallen for Nick. Part of me was ecstatic. Please, God, let her finally be over Bill. But part of me also felt the pain she felt. The terror at giving into her feelings again. Funny how that is with friends. You go through the ups and downs so often that you feel what they feel. For all our differences and misunderstandings, Maggie and I had always been there for each other.

  The part of me that could feel her pain questioned my actions in helping her fall for a man who could potentially hurt her, but I didn’t see t
hat hiding from love had helped. Maybe learning to love Nick whether or not he was leaving was the answer. Maybe it was the key to helping her get over Bill. I hoped so. I had to hope so.

  “Maggie, no one knows what the future will bring. How can you stop from enjoying yourself now for something that may or may not happen? I mean, come on. Nick might not go to Paris, or he might ask you to go with him, or you might realize he’s not right for you.”

  Maggie looked around the Kingfish to see what was happening, and I knew I had to pull out the big guns.

  “Okay, well, what if Bill returns? What would happen to Nick then? What would you do? Do you know?”

  Maggie looked at me, surprised. Aha. She hadn’t thought of that this time. She really had been letting go of Bill. Slowly, but it was happening.

  “You don’t know, do you, Maggie? The fact is you don’t know if he will ever return, just as Nick doesn’t know if he will go to Paris. Why spoil a beautiful present with a great guy because of an uncertain future?”

  I could see I was beginning to get to her, but just then the floor show began.

  Biff entered.

  It was almost nine. Right on schedule. Kevin Reynolds came in behind him. Kevin nodded in our direction but otherwise showed no recognition. I smiled. It was such a coincidence that I knew Kevin, although not so unusual, I suppose. Although Berkeley is a large institution, the Greek system is a relatively small social system, and Cindy and Biff were integral members of that system, so perhaps it wasn’t too unusual that I would have had one of their friends as a client. It was Kevin’s personality that was unusual.

  Kevin was a very sweet boy, just charming. He had been coming into SPS sporadically the past two years—about the time he began suffering from an identity crisis. Kevin had joined the fraternity as a freshman, and at the time, was very much into being one of the “bros.” Coming from a small town in Idaho, it gave him a social life, friends, and an identity.

  During his junior year, though, Kevin suddenly wasn’t sure he fit that identity and really not sure he wanted to fit the identity. He started seeing the fraternity—the whole Greek system, really—in a different light. You might say he had a revelation, but it was triggered by a sociology class taught by one of Monique’s colleagues.