I did too.
That scene when Dimmesdale and Hester finally stand together in town for the first time made me wish apart time was over already so I could stand with Nikki in some public place and apologize for being such a jerk in the past. Then I would tell her my thoughts about Hawthorne’s classic, which would make her happy for sure. God, she is going to be so impressed that I actually read a book written in old-fashioned English.
Do You Like Foreign Films?
Cliff asks about Veronica’s dinner party in a way that lets me know my mother has already discussed it with him—probably in an effort to get me to wear the collared shirts she bought me at the Gap, which Mom loves and I do not love. As soon as I sit down in the brown recliner, Cliff broaches the subject, pinching his chin the way he does every time he asks me a question my mother has already answered.
Even though I now recognize Cliff’s tell, I am excited to let him know he was right about wearing the shirt my brother had given me. Surprisingly, he does not want to talk about what clothes I wore; he wants to talk about Tiffany, and he keeps asking what I thought about her, how she made me feel, and if I enjoyed her company.
At first I am polite and answer by saying that Tiffany was nice and well dressed and had a pretty good body, but Cliff keeps pushing for the truth like therapists do, because they all have some sort of psychic ability that allows them to see through yourlies, and therefore they know you will eventually tire of the talking game and will offer up the truth.
Finally I say, “Well, the thing is—and I don’t like saying this—but Tiffany is kind of slutty.”
“What do you mean?” Cliff asks me.
“I mean she’s sort of a whore.”
Cliff sits forward a little. He looks surprised, and uncomfortable enough to make me feel uncomfortable. “On what do you base your observation? Did she dress provocatively?”
“No. I told you already. She wore a nice dress. But as soon as we finished our dessert, she asked me to walk her home.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. But at the end of the walk she asked me to have sexual intercourse with her, and not in those words.”
Cliff removes his fingers from his chin, sits back, and says, “Oh.”
“I know. It shocked me too, especially because she knows I’m married.”
“So did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Have sexual intercourse with Tiffany?”
At first Cliff’s words don’t register, but when they do, I become angry. “No!”
“Why not?”
I cannot believe Cliff has actually asked me such a question, especially since he is a happily married man himself, but I dignify the inquiry with an answer anyway. “Because I love my wife! That’s why!”
“That’s what I thought,” he says, which makes me feel a little better. He is only testing my morals, which is perfectly understandable,because people outside of mental institutions need to have good morals so that the world will continue to work without any major interruptions—and happy endings will flourish.
Then I say, “I don’t even know why Tiffany would ask me to have sex with her anyway. I mean, I’m not even an attractive guy; she’s pretty and could do a lot better than me for sure. So I’m thinking now that maybe she’s a nymphomaniac. What do you think?”
“I don’t know whether she is a nymphomaniac or not,” he says. “But I do know that sometimes people say and do what they think others want them to. Maybe Tiffany really did not want to have sex with you, but only offered something she thought you would find valuable, so you would value her.”
I think about his explanation for a second and then say, “So you’re saying that Tiffany thought
I
wanted to have sex with
her?”
“Not necessarily.” He grabs his chin again. “Your mother told me you came home with makeup on your shirt. Do you mind if I ask how that happened?”
Reluctantly, because I don’t like to gossip, I tell him
That scene when Dimmesdale and Hester finally stand together in town for the first time made me wish apart time was over already so I could stand with Nikki in some public place and apologize for being such a jerk in the past. Then I would tell her my thoughts about Hawthorne’s classic, which would make her happy for sure. God, she is going to be so impressed that I actually read a book written in old-fashioned English.
Do You Like Foreign Films?
Cliff asks about Veronica’s dinner party in a way that lets me know my mother has already discussed it with him—probably in an effort to get me to wear the collared shirts she bought me at the Gap, which Mom loves and I do not love. As soon as I sit down in the brown recliner, Cliff broaches the subject, pinching his chin the way he does every time he asks me a question my mother has already answered.
Even though I now recognize Cliff’s tell, I am excited to let him know he was right about wearing the shirt my brother had given me. Surprisingly, he does not want to talk about what clothes I wore; he wants to talk about Tiffany, and he keeps asking what I thought about her, how she made me feel, and if I enjoyed her company.
At first I am polite and answer by saying that Tiffany was nice and well dressed and had a pretty good body, but Cliff keeps pushing for the truth like therapists do, because they all have some sort of psychic ability that allows them to see through yourlies, and therefore they know you will eventually tire of the talking game and will offer up the truth.
Finally I say, “Well, the thing is—and I don’t like saying this—but Tiffany is kind of slutty.”
“What do you mean?” Cliff asks me.
“I mean she’s sort of a whore.”
Cliff sits forward a little. He looks surprised, and uncomfortable enough to make me feel uncomfortable. “On what do you base your observation? Did she dress provocatively?”
“No. I told you already. She wore a nice dress. But as soon as we finished our dessert, she asked me to walk her home.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. But at the end of the walk she asked me to have sexual intercourse with her, and not in those words.”
Cliff removes his fingers from his chin, sits back, and says, “Oh.”
“I know. It shocked me too, especially because she knows I’m married.”
“So did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Have sexual intercourse with Tiffany?”
At first Cliff’s words don’t register, but when they do, I become angry. “No!”
“Why not?”
I cannot believe Cliff has actually asked me such a question, especially since he is a happily married man himself, but I dignify the inquiry with an answer anyway. “Because I love my wife! That’s why!”
“That’s what I thought,” he says, which makes me feel a little better. He is only testing my morals, which is perfectly understandable,because people outside of mental institutions need to have good morals so that the world will continue to work without any major interruptions—and happy endings will flourish.
Then I say, “I don’t even know why Tiffany would ask me to have sex with her anyway. I mean, I’m not even an attractive guy; she’s pretty and could do a lot better than me for sure. So I’m thinking now that maybe she’s a nymphomaniac. What do you think?”
“I don’t know whether she is a nymphomaniac or not,” he says. “But I do know that sometimes people say and do what they think others want them to. Maybe Tiffany really did not want to have sex with you, but only offered something she thought you would find valuable, so you would value her.”
I think about his explanation for a second and then say, “So you’re saying that Tiffany thought
I
wanted to have sex with
her?”
“Not necessarily.” He grabs his chin again. “Your mother told me you came home with makeup on your shirt. Do you mind if I ask how that happened?”
Reluctantly, because I don’t like to gossip, I tell him
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