The Queen’s Code

by Alison A Armstrong

  “But that's it: we can learn from video games how to have men play for our points.”

  “Now you're talking. How do I get Scott to play for my points? Instead of Big Tits’?” She practically cackled.

  The hair went up on the back of Kimberlee's neck. I'm being overly sensitive, she thought. Naturally she's hurt and angry. And scared.

  She tried another tack. “Men play for points because they are providers. They want to make a difference. ‘Points’ is a way of saying that they succeeded with us by providing something that really mattered. Like Karen, my grandmother's other student, really needs her husband to take out the trash. Claudia told her to explain to her husband what it would provide for her and now he's doing it. It can be a simple thing they do every once in a while, or something they do every day.”

  Melissa asked aggressively, “Are you saying he should get points for providing a paycheck by doing something — that I can't get him to stop doing? He loves his work more than anything.”

  Kimberlee sighed, discouraged. “What if he spends that much time at work because he gets a lot of points there? Because his clients respect him and his co-workers admire him?”

  “And that should be more important than his family? That's so immature,” Melissa sneered.

  Kimberlee felt stymied and frustrated. What she said was being twisted into a different context. “It's not about being mature or immature. It's about understanding the way men are so we can bring out the best in them.”

  “Right now, everybody but me is getting the best of Scott. He treats me like shit. And when I complain about it, he looks at me like I'm ridiculous.” Melissa burst into tears.

  Kimberlee took her drink from her and set it down. Then she gathered her friend in her arms. “Cry it out, M. Get it all out.” She held Melissa while the smaller woman's body was wracked, one cascade of sobs after another. She felt her shoulder get wet with tears and snot and didn't care. Her heart hurt for her friend.

  After a long time, Melissa sat up and grabbed a handful of tissues. Blowing her nose loudly several times, she cleaned herself up and then noticed Kimberlee's blouse. “I'm sorry,” she said.

  “No biggie. I've got a dry cleaner that's a miracle worker,” Kimberlee joked.

  Melissa smiled at the feeble attempt to cheer her. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  “You're welcome. You know, I read somewhere that tears carry a depressant hormone out of the body. That's why we feel better after a good cry.”

  “I'll need more than one then,” Melissa replied.

  At that moment, the sound of the garage door opening startled Melissa to her feet. “I can't let him see me crying,” she said, quickly gathering up the pile of tissues and heading for the kitchen trash. Scott came through the door from the garage as Melissa opened the cupboard, revealing a receptacle full to the brim.

  Melissa set herself in Scott's path, her legs wide. A chill of foreboding went up Kimberlee's spine seeing Melissa's taut features in profile. Pointing at the trash, her voice edged with disdain, she said, “Good, you're finally home. Now you can take out the trash.”

  Melissa glanced over at Kimberlee and the glare in her eye made Kimberlee gasp. “And what that would ‘provide,’” she said to Scott with a sneer, “is me thinking you're good for something more than money.”

  Scott's body deflated. He lowered his head and said, “Sure, M. As soon as I change out of my suit.” He headed towards their bedroom, passing right by Kimberlee on the sofa. She was watching his face closely and when he glanced at her with a low, “Hey, Kimberlee,” she saw pain and defeat in his eyes.

  Kimberlee felt nauseous and ashamed. The precious gift her grandmother gave her had been turned against a man. A good man. And it was her fault. She quietly gathered her purse and headed for the door.

  Melissa noticed and came after her. “Why are you leaving? I did what you said. I told him to take out the trash. I told him what it would ‘provide.’ And you heard him; he's gonna do it. That's the point, right?” Melissa's eyes were hard and defensive.

  Kimberlee could only shake her head. “The point is partnership, Melissa. Partnership. All you're interested in is manipulating and diminishing Scott. I won't help you with that.”

  She opened the door and headed for her car. She kept walking even as Melissa shouted at her back, “You need to get your head out of the clouds, Kimmee. Men are assholes!”

  CLAUDIA heard Kimberlee ask plaintively, “Grandmother?” She was immediately worried by the distress in Kimberlee's voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Are you okay, my dear?”

  She heard Kimberlee choke up and then say in a rush, “I did something terrible tonight. I broke my promise to not teach your information anyone. I thought it would be okay. But it wasn't. It was awful.”

  “Would you like to tell me what happened?” Claudia asked gently; shaken but not compelled to add to Kimberlee's guilt.

  “It's my best friend — well, my used-to-be best friend — Melissa,” Kimberlee said. “She thinks her husband is having an affair. I tried teaching her about men being providers and playing for points. I kept searching for ways to get through to her. But I failed.”

  “Is that all?” Claudia encouraged, knowing Kimberlee would be best served by a full confession.

  “Oh, Grandmother, it was terrible. She told Scott to take out the trash. Not asking. Telling. And then — and then …,” Kimberlee choked up again. “She used the provide word in the most demeaning way.”

  Claudia heard her trying to get a grip on herself. She continued, “Scott was crushed. I feel awful. I didn't even know such a thing could happen. I think I'm still in shock.”

  “There, there, my dear,” Claudia said, attempting to reach her arms around Kimberlee with her voice.

  “I'm sorry, Grandmother. You told us not to. And I promised. But I had no idea it could turn that ugly.” She heard Kimberlee blow her nose and then she continued, “You knew, didn't you?”

  “I have never seen it myself,” Claudia answered honestly. “The Covenant prohibiting teaching others is nine-generations old. But I heard stories from my grandmother. They were passed down as a precaution.” She added, regretfully, “It was my mistake not to relay them to you and Karen.”

  “Have you heard of anything as bad as this?” Kimberlee asked. Claudia couldn't tell what answer she hoped for.

  “Actually, yes,” she replied. “Anytime you have a suspicion of infidelity, you are going to encounter the worst of adversarial behavior.”

  “What do you mean?” Kimberlee asked and Claudia heard her anguish lighten up with curiosity. Good, she thought. She is not likely to do something like this again. Might as well have her deepen her understanding of Needs.

  “Neither men nor women understand why infidelity happens. The ‘victim’ thinks it is unprecedented. That does not mean it never is, but in most cases infidelity is both predictable and preventable.”

  “Can you say more?”

  “Certainly.” Claudia gathered her thoughts. “This fits perfectly with what you have been learning about men's needs being critical and urgent. And the biggest need they have from women is the need for positive, life-giving attention.”

  “But don't women need attention too?” Kimberlee asked.

  “Absolutely. That is the point. Both men and women need attention. In fact, there is no relationship without it. Paying attention to one another creates the moments of connectedness. But not any kind of attention. We need attention in the forms of respect, appreciation and admiration, listening and sharing, trust and companionship.”

  Claudia sighed. “Most women pay plenty of negative attention to their husbands, boyfriends and sons. Anger and criticism, resentment and suspicion, emasculation and domination. Not because they intend to, but because that is the natural outcome of thinking men are misbehaving.”

  There was a long pause before Kimberlee replied, “That sounds about right for Melissa and Scott.”

  “
The reality that both sexes have been unwilling to face is that human beings need positive, affirming attention. It is one of the four food groups. They must have it and not getting it will almost always cause the disloyalty that is called infidelity.”

  She continued, “Regardless of any commitment they have made, eventually women and men will seek attention. For men, because of Single Focus, it is usually when they have totally given up on getting what they need from their mate. For women, because of Diffuse Awareness, they seem to wander off with the first person who gives them the attention they are starving for.”

  “It sounds like Melissa is as likely to be unfaithful to Scott as he is to her,” Kimberlee responded.

  “That is what the statistics say. While women assume that men are more likely to be unfaithful, it is not true.”

  “Wow,” Kimberlee reacted, followed by a long pause. “Now the question you gave Karen to ask Mike seems even more important.”

  Claudia smiled to herself, glad to hear Kimberlee making the connections. “Yes. Asking your partner, whether they be man or woman, ‘Is there anything you need from me that you have given up on getting?’ can help save a relationship. Asking ‘Is there anything you need from me that you are about to give up on getting?’ or ‘Is there anything you need from me that is really hard to get?’ could head problems off earlier.”

  “What if they've both given up?” Kimberlee asked, her voice sad.

  “It only takes one person to turn a relationship around. Men, especially, respond immediately to the good kind of attention.”

  “Oh!” she heard Kimberlee gasp.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “You're not only talking about romantic relationships, are you?” Kimberlee responded.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I've seen it happen. I was the only one who changed. I started paying attention to my processing men in a different way. In a positive way. After I gave up the idea that they were misbehaving,” she said, excited. “And they responded immediately. The same with Raul and Jack. I wouldn't believe the changes in them if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.”

  Claudia detected a difference in the way Kimberlee said Jack's name. But she did not want to pry.

  “It really is that simple, dear. I am thrilled you see that,” Claudia said.

  “I wish everyone could. Especially Melissa and Scott,” Kimberlee answered.

  “Not everyone has your courage and willingness, Kimster. Never underestimate the importance of that.”

  “Thank you. I thought I was ordinary. Now I'm seeing myself and Karen in a new light.” Claudia heard her hesitate.

  “Grandmother?”

  “Yes?” Claudia replied.

  “Two questions: first, am I going to have to get new friends?” Kimberlee asked, and Claudia heard the pain in her voice. “Twice I've fled Melissa's house because I couldn't stand seeing her emasculating men. And the women at work are getting on my nerves. I feel like I have to protect my men from them.”

  Claudia sighed, feeling a similar pain. And loneliness. “I will not lie to you, Kimster. To know men is to love them. And the more you do both, the more painful it will be for you to see how ordinary women treat them. I have very few friends. And none that I am as close to as you and Karen. Because you share my point of view and are beginning to share my reality.”

  She heard Kimberlee mirror her sigh. “I understand. Now I appreciate why you waited to teach two of us. I'm grateful Karen and I have each other. And you.”

  Claudia smiled to herself. “And your other question?”

  “If I'm not teaching the material, can I use the terms I know? In a discussion?” Claudia thought Kimberlee sounded embarrassed, but she needed more detail.

  “Can you tell me the context of the discussion?”

  “Um, well, um. Jack and I are talking tomorrow night and I want to find out all the things you taught us … you know, when Mike joined us ….”

  Claudia could practically hear her squirming. Mercifully, she responded as vaguely, “I think that is perfectly fine, my dear. Asking a partner about those things, or sharing what they are for you, can be a great gift. And a great beginning.”

  Claudia was rewarded with a giggle. She is really going to be fine, she thought, filled with relief. Thank goodness.

  JACK was grateful they were having the discussion by telephone. Sitting on a barstool, alone in his game room, he didn't have to work to conceal his shock and amazement. Who is this woman? he wondered for the hundredth time.

  He had agreed to talk about sex with Kimberlee on the phone Tuesday night. For her sake, he thought. Jack considered himself a man who knew his way around the bedroom. But the concept of a “delicious sexual partnership” had never occurred to him.

  His greatest challenge was matching her honesty and the forthright information she was providing. She has the darndest way of making me want to show myself.

  He took another gulp of water and dove into her second question. “Well, since, as I just said, sex provides a great physical release and gives me a sense of calm and peace and focus, my — what's the term again?”

  “Pumpkin Hours.”

  He chuckled at the imagery of the coach turning into a pumpkin and recalled Kimberlee quoting her grandmother, “When you can't give anyone a ride.” I'd like to meet this Claudia. She sounds like one grande dame.

  “Yeah, Pumpkin Hours. Well, truthfully, my favorite time to have sex is early in the morning. On a Sunday, there's time to lie around afterward — or continue as long as you like — and I'm left relaxed and happy all day. During the week, it would leave me clear-headed and focused for work.”

  He paused but she didn't say anything. “Ideally — wow, I've never told anyone this — sex would happen before the Stock Exchange opened at 6:30 a.m. Pacific time.”

  “Okay, that's the ideal time for you to have sex,” Kimberlee replied, sounding much calmer than he felt. “But Pumpkin Hours are the times when it doesn't work for you. Like, for example, if I called you at 10 p.m. and invited you over. Would that be welcome or an imposition? Would you be thrilled or become resentful?”

  Jack couldn't imagine any time he was invited to have sex with her being an imposition. He'd been fantasizing about it for years. Then he remembered she was talking about real life. “Truthfully, since I do get up early on weekdays, after 10 o'clock at night would cost me. But nine would be cool. Except on Friday night, after working all week, I need to chill out. I'm no good to anyone for anything.”

  “Thank you,” Kimberlee responded and Jack felt genuinely appreciated for his honesty.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked.

  “If I had it all my way,” she began and he was intrigued by the combination of “if” and “all my way.” He was used to a woman being grossly accommodating or a completely demanding pain in the ass. This middle ground was appealing.

  “Since I want to have sex with you two or three times a week,” she continued and Jack almost fell off his seat. Holy crap! His entire physical being had immediately responded to her words. She wants me! Besides the typical reaction, his upper chest burned with a heat he was unaccustomed to.

  Realizing he hadn't been listening, Jack interrupted her, “Sorry, Kim. You lost me at ‘I want to have sex with you.’ If you keep talking like that, I'm gonna show up at your door.”

  She giggled, “I guess that's a Jump Start for you, then.”

  “A Jump Start?”

  “You know, bringing a dead battery to life,” Kimberlee said playfully. “Or something that takes you from zero to sixty in nothing flat. Besides your Porsche, that is.”

  Jack loved the analogy and was touched that she remembered his beloved car. It reminded him that he'd promised her the more conventional kind of ride.

  “Kim, from the moment I first saw you, my battery has never been dead around you,” he responded sincerely.

  She laughed and snorted. Adorable. He was reminded that she wasn't entirely comfortable
with the conversation either. Maybe that was the reason for the sudden change of subject.

  “Um, Jack, can I ask how old you are?”

  “Just turned forty-three. Why?”

  “Um, well, I'm thirty-one and I've been a little nervous about our age difference.”

  “Kim, relationships aren't about age. Huge differences or no differences, in either direction, for either sex.” He was adamant. “No matter what you think is lined up — age or income, religion or politics — it doesn't matter. It comes down to whether two people can provide what the other needs and make each other happy.”

  There was a long silence on the other end. Finally, she asked, “What do you need, Jack?”

  Her patient silence gave him the chance to think. “I need to be respected,” he said. “And trusted. And appreciated for mostly who I am as a man, and secondarily for what I've accomplished.” He paused and again she waited contently. This must be what Raul was talking about; how she really listens. I could get used to this.

  He continued, “I need sex. Not merely the act. The connection. The giving and receiving.” In the silence that followed, he looked deeper and was surprised at what he found. Should I say it? Nothing but goodness and opportunity has come of telling her the truth thus far ….

  “And I think I need to be your hero.”

  Kimberlee gasped. After a long moment, he asked gently, “Kim? You alright?”

  She sniffled and replied softly, “That's the most amazing thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  Jack felt his chest swell and thought, Good.

  “See you Saturday night, then? Pick you up at six?”

  She replied, “Should I be ready for dinner?”

  “You should be ready to come over to my house. And we'll find out what Jump Starts you.”

  “B-but,” she stuttered, “I thought you had to wait a week or ten days for the results.”

  Jack was grinning even though she couldn't see it. “I paid extra to get them by Friday,” he responded. “I'll have flight clearance.”

  Kimberlee giggled nervously and Jack was reminded that, for all her fascinating knowledge and astonishing honesty, this was still an area in which she needed his help.