The Waiting Game

By Harry Buschman

This Morning

Barney Trammel couldn’t believe his luck when his roommate sold him the
tandem bicycle. Barney and Sheila Troxel planned to be married in a month and
every penny counted.

If it had not been for the impending marriage, Barney would have preferred a new car, or at the very least a respectable used one like the 1958 silver Oldsmobile Roadster with the hydramatic transmission he saw only yesterday
over at Lemmon’s lot. It was $475, a good buy, but it was out of the question
at the moment -- he had responsibilities now, the wedding was only a month
away and the engagement ring was still unpaid for. Then there was the furniture to buy and the apartment had to be painted.

In spite of his financial problems, Barney was so deeply in love he would wake up in a cold sweat two or three times a night thinking of Sheila. At work he would find himself staring into space and thinking of her in his father’s haberdashery. His father would ask him, “Are you all right Barney?” Barney would sigh and smile vaguely into the distance and his father would shake his head in sympathy mixed with a touch of envy. He too could remember a time, not so many years ago, when he was single -- he would often catch himself dreaming of the present Mrs. Trammel. “How quickly it passed,” he would mutter quietly to himself -- quietly enough so Mrs. Trammel could not hear. Then, in a louder voice, so that all three of them could hear, he would comment, “It will be a blessing to both of us when you’re married, Barney.”

It would be pushing it to say with any degree of confidence that Sheila felt as strongly about Barney as he did about her. Very few women reveal their emotions as openly as men do. Like a dog, a man will lick its master’s hand
whether its master is kind to it or not, while a woman, like a cat, will often give short shrift to hers regardless of his kindnesses. Sheila was acutely aware of her effect on Barney, and she parceled out her charms as though they were made of gold. The technique increased Barney’s desire to an alarming degree; he was frequently tongue-tied and clumsy in her presence. Ever the romantic, Barney had fallen in love unconditionally and as sloppily and clumsily as a puppy in a pet shop window. After a date or two Sheila moved his classification from ‘possible’ to ‘likely,’ (one step below ‘probable’).

Sheila was an out of town girl, a career girl -- a shorthand stenographer on the staff of the State Senator from McCibben County. When she first arrived she planned to move in with two other women on his staff, then she noticed the abundance of eligible young men in town. Quite by accident she met Barney
at his father’s haberdashery and checked him off as a possible -- but far from a probable, all the while keeping him at arm’s length -- a practice she learned from her mother. Sharing a lease with the ladies on the Senator’s staff was put on the back burner, so she chose the respectable boarding house for ladies run by the rock-ribbed Imogene Landlock. The house was highly recommended by the Senator and Parson Peavey, the Minister of the Presbyterian Church.

Barney called at Mrs. Landlock’s boarding house for young ladies every Sunday. The parlor was available for entertaining male visitors during the weekend daylight hours. However, Mrs. Landlock would burst in unannounced at irregular intervals to see that things were not getting out of hand. The boarding house had an impeccable reputation for safeguarding the chastity and virtue of the young ladies who boarded there, and their comings and goings, (as well as doings) were under constant watch.

Mrs. Landlock issued no house keys to her lady boarders .... she would sniff
loudly and shake a warning finger .... “Keys can be copied you know.” The
girls had to be in at a decent hour, an hour decent enough that Mrs. Landlock
herself would be awake to answer the door. 10 p.m. was the hour she deemed
proper. If a young lady, for reasons of career or a late movie, found herself
standing under the wrought iron portico past that hour, she would be reprimanded in no uncertain terms by Mrs. Landlock, (who would appear in a gray lace wrapper with her hair in a net) ....“Proper young ladies do not wander
the streets in the middle of the night.” The girl’s parents, (who chose Mrs.
Landlock’s boarding house for young ladies for this reason) would be notified
of their daughter’s late arrival.

Sitting in the parlor with Sheila on Sunday afternoons in the company of two
or three other couples was torture for Barney. There were no sofas. She would
sit in one anti-macassar covered easy chair and he would sit in another. From
this remote and almost clinical distance he would stare at her lovingly and try to make conversation. If it was quiet too long, Mrs. Landlock would launch herself into the room saying, “Oh! Sorry to interrupt -- I thought you folks had left.”

The bicycle built for two would give them the freedom to pedal to Cherry Hill
park for the afternoon and even into the early evening if things worked out
the way Barney planned. In the park, they could hold hands, walk by the lake
and even indulge in a little controlled petting on the woolen blanket he had
folded neatly and crammed into the bicycle’s pannier.

Sheila would have preferred a movie and an early dinner at Finnegan’s Cafe.
There, she could have worn her new gray tweed suit and even smoked a
cigarette in the ebony and gold cigarette holder that took her fancy at the
novelty shop near her place of employment. A bicycle meant slacks and a
sweater, and for nourishment, a frankfurter with a coke at the hot dog stand.
In addition, she would have to keep Barney under control all afternoon while
sitting on a musty blanket spread out over the pigeon droppings in Cherry
Hill Park.

Barney was well aware that Sheila would not be enthusiastic about sharing
Sunday afternoon on a tandem bicycle. It is not a ladylike means of locomotion, therefore he was thoughtful to find a lambs wool seat cover to protect that part of her anatomy that had been giving him so many sleepless nights of late. He would ride the rear seat, and do the lion’s share of pedaling. This would give Sheila the choice of the route through the park and give her a chance to enjoy the scenery.

He showed up at Mrs. Landlock’s boarding house early looking very respectable
in his rather full Bermuda shorts showing his legs only from his knobby knees
down, and his bright green sport shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the bulge of his biceps. He also wore a rather smart safari hat with colorful fishing flies embedded in the crown. Mrs. Landlock answered the door and looked him over critically -- she could find nothing disgraceful in his appearance, ludicrous perhaps; which, on the face of it might be something she should write to Sheila’s parents about. Furthermore, the tandem bicycle had beaver tails on the handlebars. She made a mental note to include that bit of information in the letter as well.

“Bicycle riding on a Sunday! Really Mr. Trammel, you can’t expect a lady of
breeding to pedal around town on a bicycle .... particularly on a Sunday
afternoon!”

“But it’s healthful, Mrs. Landlock. There are hundreds of folks pedaling through the park. Wholesome families out for the afternoon -- far better than sitting in a stuffy parlor .... no offense ma’am.”

“Well! she retorted, “you’d never catch me on one of those things, and I dare say when Miss Troxel’s parents hear of it, they will not be pleased!”

Sheila appeared in the doorway behind her dressed in white linen slacks and a
pink sweater. She wore a broad brimmed straw hat tied securely under her chin.

“We shan’t be long, Mrs. Landlock. I think perhaps the fresh air will be good for me.” She looked sternly at Barney. “I’ll be back long before dinner, I promise.” She smiled grimly, “I’ll probably be famished.”

“It will be mutton, my dear.”

“I certainly wouldn’t want to miss that, Mrs. Landlock.”

Mrs. Landlock stood with her meaty arms folded across her chest as the two
mounted up and pushed off. They gathered enough speed to lift their feet and
grope awkwardly for the pedals -- then, after a quick fleeting wave of her hand, Sheila grasped the handle bars in a grip of iron.

“Comfortable?” Barney asked.

“Not entirely.”

Barney was not at the helm, his only assignment was to pump steadily and
offer advice. His attention was riveted on Sheila’s backside. Her sweater had
ridden up an inch or two leaving a band of creamy yet well toned flesh almost
at the end of his nose. The curve of her lumbar vertebrae oscillated gently
before him, and there was a delectable quarter inch of blue silk underpants
visible just above the belt line of her slacks. He was extremely uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure this was a good idea, Sheila.”

“It was your idea. You wanted an afternoon in the park, I didn’t -- I wanted
to see the new Paul Newman movie. What’s the matter with you anyway?”

“Would you mind if I rode up front, Sheila? I’ll put the cushion on the back
seat.” They stopped on the bicycle path just inside the park entrance and
Barney made the exchange, Sheila all the while shaking her head and tapping
her foot impatiently as he moved the cushion from the front seat to the back.

It wasn’t until they mounted up again and got underway that Sheila realized
what bothered Barney. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but she realized she
gained another powerful weapon in her arsenal. The simplicity of men! She
watched with calm appraisal the inch or two of his muscular back as he pumped
the pedals in front of her -- it was hairy, like the back of an animal. Yes
-- Barney was far from perfect, but she was sure she could make a decent
husband out of him. Her mother had told her long ago -- no man is a natural
born husband dear, they’ve got to be made.

They spent the afternoon wisely. Sheila kept Barney’s attention riveted on the wedding and her plans for a modest reception, his frequent suggestions that they investigate the nature trails in the woods were countered with prudence and promises. “You’ll be so glad we waited, Barney. I will be all the woman you can handle -- but it will be so much sweeter .... etcetera .... etcetera.”

This Afternoon

It was late afternoon when Barney put the bags down and fished in his pocket
for the key. The honeymoon was over.

He was still seething about the taxi driver, he turned to Sheila and grumbled, “They said it would be $28.50 when I made the reservation. That’s what they said, right?”

“Oh, Barney -- don’t fuss. It was a lovely honeymoon, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose so, first one for me.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The living room blinds had been pulled down to the window sills and it was
dark, musty smelling and almost forbidding. “I’ll get the lights, Sheila -- don’t come in. We don’t know where anything is -- we’ll fall over something.”

He found the wall switch, and Sheila gasped. “Mother! She’s got the sofa on
the wrong wall -- and look at that oak chair, that belongs in the bedroom.
Before we do anything else Barney, we’ve got to put this room straight.”

Barney collapsed on the sofa. “Let it go ‘til tomorrow Sheila -- tomorrow.
I’m bushed -- I got up at four this morning.

Sheila stared critically at the sofa. “It looks a lot different here than it did in the store, a different blue.”

“It was the lights,” Barney said sleepily, the showroom had fluorescent lights.” He yawned and pulled off his shoes. “Fluorescent lights make everything look green.”

“I suppose I’ll get used to it. It was nice of mother, wasn’t it? She spent
a week here in the empty apartment waiting for the furniture.”

“What else does she have to do?”

“Really, Barney! Give her credit for that at least.” Sheila threw her arms wide as if to embrace the entire living room. “It’s ours Barney, all ours. Our first apartment. We’re really and truly married. Aren’t you glad we waited?”

“For what?”

“I think you know ‘what.’ If you had your way we’d .... anyway, I’m glad we
waited. It was all the sweeter, Barney. It was a beautiful honeymoon. Whoever
heard of a honeymoon in Nova Scotia in April? It rained every day.”

“The sun came out one afternoon, I remember -- I looked out the window one
afternoon and the sun was out.” Barney got wearily to his bare feet and pattered his way out to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and swore softly.

“What’s the matter, Barney?”

“Two little things of yogurt, a jar of mustard and a loaf of damn gluten bread. You think she might of left something to eat!” He walked to the wall phone and dialed ‘operator.’ “I need a number for Domino’s, sweetheart -- nearest one to area code 11514.”

Sheila, still enraptured appeared at the kitchen door. “I’m so glad we waited, Barney. As the years go by we’ll think back to this day, our first day in our own home as man and wife, and ....”

.... "Thank you operator can you get that number for me?” He sat down carefully on one of the two new kitchen chairs and put his feet up on the new kitchen table. A reproving glance from Sheila made him sit up straight again and put his feet on the floor. “Hi! Name’s Trammel, 37 Lilac Way apartment 3-C .... I want a large pie with double cheese, anchovies and mushrooms. .... 20 minutes? -- $16.50? -- you gotta deal -- Oh, wait a minute; half liter of coke and a bottle of Bud, okay?”

“You’re so masterful, Barney.” Sheila sat on Barney’s outstretched legs, put her arms around his neck and locked her fingers. “Aren’t you glad we waited?”

He looked at her as a man might look at a woman who was not his wife. “Yes
and no, Sheila. Yes and no. On balance I’d say mostly no.” He held her so
she couldn’t get up. “Before you blow up let me say something, okay?”

“What?”

“We could have been just as happy six months ago. We would have had a six
month head start on happiness -- think of it Sheila, when we’re wheeled in
and out of the old folks home sixty years from now and somebody says --’here’s six more months of wedded bliss,’ how would that sound to you?”

Sheila was smart enough to know when to drop it -- she’d get him to admit it
some day. She slid out of his grip and opened the refrigerator. “I can’t believe Mother would leave us an empty refrigerator -- she must have known we’d come back hungry.” She saw a bottle of champagne in a slot in the door. “Look there’s champagne. You didn’t see that did you?”

“I saw it -- I was looking for something to eat.”

“Let’s have some now, before the pizza comes. To celebrate our first night.”

“No glasses.”

“We have glasses. We bought glasses, they must be up here somewhere.” She
opened a closet above the sink. “Here,” she said. “Here’s two glasses.”

“You can’t drink champagne out of water tumblers, Sheila. It just isn’t done.” He smiled evilly .... “You’ll be glad you waited.”

“Never mind that. Work the cork open -- I want some champagne now.”

“First comes the pizza, Sheila -- then you can have the champagne.”

This Evening

It wasn’t a new house and it wasn’t in good shape. It stared belligerently at its well kept neighbors and when the wind blew, a shutter on the street side living room window pounded relentlessly on the worn clapboard siding. But the agent praised its latent virtues and said it was the best buy in the neighborhood.

All things considered, it was the answer to Barney and Sheila’s prayers. The
baby was a year old now and took up all the available space in the apartment.
The bedroom was a nursery and a changing room -- it often smelled like a
kennel. The baby, a light sleeper, (if he slept at all) spent most of his nights restlessly thrashing in bed between them. The bathroom was a drying yard and the dressing table was a sea of baby oils, powders and paper diapers. The kitchen resembled the laboratory of the late Dr. Frankenstein and the dirty dishes waited patiently as the infant was bathed in the sink. With the arrival of the new baby exactly thirteen months after the honeymoon, Barney and Sheila were now a threesome. They had to get out of their apartment or go mad.

Barney was doing well now, the haberdashery was thriving and his father was
thinking of moving into the mall. He was doing well enough so Sheila could
stay home with .... Montgomery, little Montgomery Trammel. The name was
Barney’s idea. Monty Winger, third baseman for the Orioles was his boyhood
idol -- one of Barney’s cherished possessions was a baseball signed by Monty
Winger in an almost illegible hand. Sheila was about to put her foot down and
dig her heels in about the name, but after thinking it over she decided it could have been worse and ‘Monty’ wasn’t a bad name after all. Her father’s name had been Newton.

It wasn’t easy in the beginning. When the weather cooled, they tried to operate the furnace with mixed results -- the oil burner filled the basement with smoke which found its way through the ductwork and ruined the pale lavender drapes Sheila’s mother had given them as a wedding present. There was a family of squirrels in the attic and an army of termites in the base plate of the kitchen wall -- the water closet in the upstairs bathroom was reluctant to flush and a hungry menage of field mice under the kitchen sink had to be trapped one by one.

Can any couple put their fingers on a point in their life and say, “Here, this is where we changed from a pair of newlyweds to a married couple? Here, right here -- this is where I became husband and you became wife!” More likely one of them will wake in the morning and wonder why things have suddenly changed. They will know exactly what has to be done, there’s no choice. Gone are the days when the husband could lie in bed, look at his newlywed wife and say, “What shall we do today dear?” No! He knows exactly what must be done that day. If it’s a weekday, he’s got to get the store open at nine, get the dust covers off the merchandise, check on the shop windows to see if the displays haven’t fallen over and the sale prices are accurately placed. He’s got to test the lights, nothing repels a customer more than burned out light bulbs. He’s got to do all this before nine because Pop doesn’t get in ‘til eleven or so, and then he has to take a nap at three in the afternoon.

If it’s a weekend, Barney might spend a happy half hour in bed, (if Montgomery is willing) then he will put together a hasty breakfast for both of them. After all, Sheila’s week has been just as trying as his -- then, he has to get started on the painting of Montgomery’s bedroom, scrape the wallpaper off the bathroom walls and fix the third step from the bottom on the stairs to the basement. Will it ever end, he wonders? Is this what Sheila meant when she said -- “Aren’t you glad you waited?”

If you’re Sheila you’re up on a weekday morning before Barney. She tiptoes down the hall, hoping Montgomery has at last decided to sleep an hour or two
before regaining strength. Does Barney have a clean shirt? Will he have to wear his underwear another day, and where, oh where, is the mate to his black silk sock? When Barney leaves, Sheila waits for the second awakening. Montgomery, sensing he is the only man in the house -- and therefore in complete charge, demands her complete attention until the middle of the afternoon.

Most weekday evenings the store is open until nine p.m. and Barney gets home
somewhere around nine thirty. He’s hungry, but he’s more tired than hungry
-- almost as tired as Sheila. They look at each other dully, like two automatons whose batteries have run down.

“Hi, Sheila --

“Lo, love -- hard day?”

“Yeah, -- you?”

“A little better today. The rash is going away and he seems to be taking the
formula -- at least he doesn’t throw up.”

Sheila rouses herself from the sofa and stretches. “I suppose you’re hungry. Me too. I haven’t eaten all day.” She picks up the receiver for the transmitter that hangs above Montgomery’s head in the nursery and walks slowly to the kitchen. “C’mon Barney, maybe we can eat before he wakes up.” Sheila has learned the fine art of cooking a meal while caring for a baby, and in less than ten minutes dinner is on the table.

“I’ve got great news, Sheila.”

“Save it ‘til you open the wine.”

“What wine?”

“I bought wine today. It’s in the fridge -- and here’s the corkscrew. I finally found it, it was in that tool chest of yours. That’s what gave me the idea of having wine tonight.”

Montgomery's steady breathing is amplified in the radio receiver that sits on
the table between them. Sheila keeps the volume at maximum so she can hear
him wherever she is -- he sounds like the sleeping giant in Jack and the Beanstalk, and as they eat they listen for the first intimation of his awakening.

They don’t have to wait long. With a gurgle that grows in volume and then a
plaintive wail that increases in intensity until it threatens to shatter the windows Montgomery announces his presence. He will be awake now until midnight.

“We should let him cry a little,” Sheila said. “It’s not a good idea to pick him up the moment he cries.”

“Well at least turn down the volume, he’ll wake the neighborhood.” They
listen for a bit, then Barney sheepishly announces that after hearing the name Montgomery for a year and a half he is sick of it and would like to change it to Benjamin.

“You’re out of your mind,” Sheila said. “You can’t change a baby’s name, what’s the matter with you? He’s already christened. You picked out the name in the first place.” She looked at him as though he had lost his mind. “There was this Monty something -- the football player ....”

“Baseball.”

“A child’s name is not not something to fiddle with, Barney. You should know
better -- if I told mother my husband was thinking of renaming his son, she’d
tell me to put you away.”

Barney sits back in his chair and looks up at the ceiling. “Oh .... I don’t know. I had a dog once, a sort of a cross between a terrier and a spaniel. I called him “Whiskers” for a while. Then I got tired of the name and I called him -- I forget what the second name was. It’s not important. The thing is .... he got used to his second name in a week flat.” Barney lowers his gaze and smiles at Sheila -- “C’mon Sheil -- I’m only kidding, you know that.”

Sheila shook her head -- “Go in and pick him up -- he’s been crying long enough.”

“Me!” Barney panicked, “S’pose he wants something I can’t give him?”

“Bring him down here -- I’m open all night.”

Barney struggles to his feet and makes for the stairs. When he walks into the
nursery the crying takes on a different tone. The wail of abandonment dissipates, it is now one of demand and ultimatum. As Barney gathers the little but loud Montgomery into his arms, he gets a whiff of the problem -- he is not up to its solution. He calls downstairs .... “He needs you Dear.”

Sheila, sitting next to the receiver can hear them both, and sensing the problem, momentarily philosophizes about motherhood and the complete inadequacy of fathers. What good are they? They really have no purpose after the birth of their offspring. They can neither feed them, change them, or swab their throats when they are sick or sit at their side in the middle of the night.

“Sheila!”

“You can handle it, Barney.” She wonders vaguely what Barney’s surprise was.

“I’ll tell you what the surprise is if you come up, Sheila.”

Tomorrow

Barney sat on the yellow and red striped convertible and Sheila sat on the other side of the room trying to adjust the controls on the motorized lounge chair.

“This is one hell of a color combination for a sofa, Sheila. Who picked it out, Dierdre? Monty would never ....”

“Do you know how to get the footrest on this damn thing back out of the way.
I want my feet on the floor.”

Barney got up and walked across the room. He took the remote control from
Sheila and pushed one of its buttons.

“Now you’ve got the back too straight! Why can’t people buy a chair that’s
just a chair and not some motorized astronaut couch?”

Barney put the control down and pulled Sheila up out of the chair. “Give it
up, dear,” he said, “It’s beyond us, come over and sit with me on the ugly
sofa.”

Barney and Sheila volunteered to stay at Monty and Dierdre's apartment while
they honeymooned in Disney World. As the days dragged by they commented on the fact that Sheila’s mother had done the same for them many years ago and probably thought the same about their furniture. They both agreed that tastes
change, not always for the better -- even tastes in where people go on their
honeymoons. In retrospect, theirs had been pretty strange too -- imagine!
Nova Scotia in March! Well -- it was Barney’s idea, “wasn’t it, Barney?” Sheila reminded him.

“Damn good one as I remember,” he smiled. “Disney World isn’t bad either.
After all, Lennie’s almost four now. He’ll enjoy it.”

Sheila sat on the new sofa tentatively, “Look my legs don’t even touch the floor. Very uncomfortable. Why don’t young people think twice before they buy
furniture?” Then she changed the subject. “That’s another thing .... about
Lennie .... I wish they waited the way we did.”

“Well, they didn’t -- kids don’t wait for anything any more. Monty told me
once that they wanted to be sure before they signed up for the long haul.”
Barney nudged Sheila. “Do you realize what a chance we took -- no samples.
Nothing. We just plunged into it, hoping ....”

“Now wait a minute,” Sheila broke in, you’re turning the whole thing around.”

In various and separate ways Barney had brought the subject up all their
married life. Most of the time it was in jest, but there were occasions when
she could sense he meant every word he said. Sheila could never be sure until
it was too late. It was best, she thought, to let it pass. She knew she was right, of course -- and that’s the main thing.

©Harry Buschman 2001

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