SOME SMART SOMEBODY (SHAKESPEARE, I DO BELIEVE) SAID THAT THE "BAD PLACE" HAS NO FURY LIKE THAT OF A WOMAN SCORNED. IT SEEMS EVERY MAN MUST LEARN THIS TRUTH SOONER OR LATER . . . .
Bill and Jack entered the second week of their visit. But things were different -- at least for Bill. He noticed a certain coldness and quietness from Jill. She would speak to him if spoken too; but she stopped asking what he wanted to do, and she didn't offer to do things together any longer. Bill knew why. Their conversation the previous Sunday afternoon was received by Jill as a rejection of her advances. He thought she might be acting out of the embarrassment of that moment in her treatment of him now.
If so, she wasn't alone. Her sister, Danni, was definitely treating him less friendly than she had been; though he sensed that with Danni she was fighting against her main desire to be close friends with him. On Monday, for instance, he had asked Jill if she wanted to go swimming again after the chores were done.
"No thank you," she'd said. "I think the water's cold now."
He'd asked Danni if she wanted to throw the frisbee about an hour before supper that evening. Jill had been in the room at the time, and he noticed Danni looking over toward her sister before she answered. "I think not right now," Danni said with a toss of her brown curls. "It's too close to supper time. And I believe I am to assist Mother with preparations for our meal."
"Oh, is that what you believe?!" he asked with a grin. "And what, may I ask, are you and Aunt Margaret preparing for this wondrous repaste?"
Danni looked at him in some surprise. She had to remind herself, that her older cousin probably knew many more bigger words than her. She was sorely tempted to be nice, but she remembered the request of her older sister. "I don't recall, Cousin Bill, what Mom is planning on for this evening's repast. But I shall learn in due time . . . ." She quickly left the room so that he couldn't ask any more questions. But he did poke his head into the kitchen a little later to see if his younger cousin was helping her mother cook. She wasn't.
On Tuesday, Bill noticed that he and Jack were working by themselves without the girls. Uncle Glenn had given them the task of sorting and stacking the odd bits of lumber and firewood in the back of the garage. "Wonder where the girls are?" Jack asked, anticipating the question Bill wanted to ask. "Yeah, I guess they're working on something else."
He found out later that his aunt had gone shopping that morning, and the daughters had both begged to go along this time. It looked real suspicious, since they usually never left him to go shopping anywhere.
On Wednesday, he was walking downstairs, and Jill walked right past him in the opposite direction. "Hey!" he called out. "Hey, Jill, got a minute?"
She paused at the top of the stairs and looked down at him blankly but said nothing.
"J-Jill, can we talk?"
"What about?" she asked coldly. He turned and walked up the stairs slowly to join her. "I -- I just thought something might be wrong between us."
"Nothing's wrong!" she said with heat.
"Well, I mean I just sense a distance between us in the last few days."
"All in your mind," she said as she turned away without looking at him again.
He followed her. "Well, I mean like that. Just now. You were friendly when I came. We were friends. Now, you're treating me like a stranger. Or maybe like someone you don't want to know."
"Maybe I don't!" answered Jill.
She was stalking away to her room trying to hold back the tears. She didn't like herself for the way she was treating him, but couldn't help herself.
"Oh, you can't mean that. Jill, we are cousins, and friends! Let's get back to the way it used to be."
She stopped at the door of her room, but would not face him. "Oh, I think that is just pretty impossible now." Then, under her breath Jill added, "You don't want what I had to offer."
"Well, just because I don't believe I should be your boy friend, doesn't mean we can't hang out and have fun -- like we used to," he repeated.
"Maybe I just need some space," she said -- and quickly slammed the door behind her.
All of this was not lost on the Simpsons. Gene and Margaret both had made separate observations of the interactions between their daughters and their oldest nephew. Finally Margaret felt compelled to speak out. She went into her kitchen and prepared a steam kettle
for some hot tea; then got her daughters attention: "Jill, a word with you please."
"Are you making tea? In the summer?"
"Tea's good any time. You know that. And anyway, you can throw some ice in yours once it's brewed if you like."
Jill knew what was coming. Tea or no tea, she was going to have to listen to her mother -- even if she chose not to answer back.
"Jill, Darling, I've noticed the way you've suddenly begun to treat your cousin."
"Which one?" asked Jill forcing herself to stare out the kitchen window and trying hard to sound as if she didn't know what her mom meant.
"You know perfectly well which one. Look at me, Jill." Jill complied reluctantly. The water was hot and Margaret made the tea for them both. She set it down in front of her daughter; she couldn't help herself as her heart filled with love. Jill reminded her so much of herself at that same age. Jill looked at her cup of tea, then over at the sugar bowl. She reached for the latter and dipped out a heaping spoonful of sugar, stirring it slowly into her hot cup.
"I'll be blunt, Dear. Since Sunday afternoon, you've been I treating Bill almost as if he has the plague. You're not spending hardly any time with him, and the times I've heard you talk you don't even sound friendly to him."
Jill shrugged and sipped her sweet tea. She was glad she was drinking it hot; it sent a rush through her whole system -- sort of a cleansing radiance. She heard herself answering, "I'm mad at Bill."
"Okay," nodded Margaret. "Now, we're getting somewhere. I think I know why, but I can't read your mind, and I want to hear you tell me."
"He hurt my feelings, Mom." Margaret nodded. She was so grateful that even in these first throes of adolescence her daughter would still talk to her quite honestly. "And how exactly did Bill hurt your feelings?"
Jill nearly burst out in sobs, "Ooohhh, Mom!"
"Was it because of what happened at church?" she asked. Jill shook her head.
"After," she sniffed, with her face down on her arms.
"And what happened after?" she probed gently, taking another sip of the good, black tea.
"Oh, Mom," she repeated. "I told him something I probably never should have. And I -- I embarrassed myself."
Margaret put her arm around her daughter and hugged her.
"You know, Jill, when I was about your age, there was a special boy -- older than me. Like Bill."
"Oh, Mom!" she said again, "my life isn't like yours!" But she couldn't bring herself to roll her eyes. She actually wanted to hear this story. Margaret knew that and continued.
"I did special things for this guy. I talked to him in a special way. I dropped plenty of hints to let him know how I felt." Margaret laughed as she remembered. "I even found an old pair of his gymn socks and washed them for him!"
Jill's mouthed gaped open, and both were laughing at this memory. "Oooohhhh, Mooooomm!!" After a good, long laugh, Margaret's face grew more serious. "But none of it worked," she continued. "He didn't feel the same way toward me. In fact --," she paused. Jill looked up expectantly.
"This special young man already had a girl closer to his age that he liked a lot."
"I bet he wasn't your cousin," shot Jill.
"No. No, he wasn't related to me, that's true. But what I'm saying is I know how you feel -- at least a little bit."
Jill said nothing, but nodded and sniffed again. That was the funny thing about crying. You couldn't just stop whenever you wanted. You had to let it run its course.
"And sooo, my dear -- you know what I did?"
"What?"
"I suddenly started treating him like an enemy. We had been at least friends -- though not close. And suddenly I stopped speaking to him; or if I did speak, I was abrupt and even rude."
"What did he do?"
"Well, Jill, I think he was baffled at first. But then he just went on with his life; because after all I just wasn't really that important to him."
Jill was quiet, gripping her tea like she needed the warmth badly. "So you were sad a long, long time after that. And I bet you felt like a fool."
"I was sad. And I was embarrassed." Margaret paused, wondering to herself if she should tell the rest of this story. A queer look grew on her face. "But I wasn't finished either!" Margaret added. And she couldn't hide her sly smile. Jill looked at her curiously.
"You weren't finished telling me? I'm sorry, Mom, if I butted in . . . ."
Margaret laughed out loud and touched her daughter's hand. "No, Dear, you didn't butt in. I meant I wasn't finished with him!"
"Wha -- what do you mean? What did you do?"
Margaret could barely stifle a giggle. "I got my brother to catch a big frog. And we put it in his locker at school -- when he wasn't looking of course!"
Jill laughed in spite of herself, just imagining the shock of that young man when he opened the door and encountered the frog. After a minute both had calmed down somewhat.
"Soooo -- you're suggesting I should do something surprising to Bill to get even with his not feeling the same?"
Margaret laughed again. "Of course not! Though I can see how you might draw that conclusion."
They sat quietly together for awhile longer. Margaret wanted her daughter to be the first one to speak after this, and she did. "So. So, what should I do?"
"You should just continue to be yourself, Dear. I mean your real self. The Jill who is sweet,
helpful, friendly, lovable, smart, and funny. That self."
Jill pushed her cup away and looked out the window again. "I thought I was myself -- just angry at Bill and probably showing it."
"You were definitely showing it on purpose. You might be embarrassed now, but you'll get over it. Remember all of the things about Bill you like. And tell yourself it's okay to be close friends, and --"
"And nothing more," finished Jill with a great, big sigh. "It still feels awkward . . . ."
"That will pass," encouraged her mom. "Now, there's plenty of daylight left. You haven't played tennis in awhile. Go get your racket and invite Bill and Jack to play you two in doubles."
Jill thought to herself, "that would be fun . . . ."
"Hey, Billie Boy!" she called out in that funny, hick voice he always liked.
LBC
 |
| Even a young woman can be angry enough to treat you like dirt! (Especially a younger woman.) |
Bill and Jack entered the second week of their visit. But things were different -- at least for Bill. He noticed a certain coldness and quietness from Jill. She would speak to him if spoken too; but she stopped asking what he wanted to do, and she didn't offer to do things together any longer. Bill knew why. Their conversation the previous Sunday afternoon was received by Jill as a rejection of her advances. He thought she might be acting out of the embarrassment of that moment in her treatment of him now.
If so, she wasn't alone. Her sister, Danni, was definitely treating him less friendly than she had been; though he sensed that with Danni she was fighting against her main desire to be close friends with him. On Monday, for instance, he had asked Jill if she wanted to go swimming again after the chores were done.
"No thank you," she'd said. "I think the water's cold now."
He'd asked Danni if she wanted to throw the frisbee about an hour before supper that evening. Jill had been in the room at the time, and he noticed Danni looking over toward her sister before she answered. "I think not right now," Danni said with a toss of her brown curls. "It's too close to supper time. And I believe I am to assist Mother with preparations for our meal."
"Oh, is that what you believe?!" he asked with a grin. "And what, may I ask, are you and Aunt Margaret preparing for this wondrous repaste?"
 |
| She couldn't play because she was going to cook? Oh, Come on!! |
On Tuesday, Bill noticed that he and Jack were working by themselves without the girls. Uncle Glenn had given them the task of sorting and stacking the odd bits of lumber and firewood in the back of the garage. "Wonder where the girls are?" Jack asked, anticipating the question Bill wanted to ask. "Yeah, I guess they're working on something else."
He found out later that his aunt had gone shopping that morning, and the daughters had both begged to go along this time. It looked real suspicious, since they usually never left him to go shopping anywhere.
On Wednesday, he was walking downstairs, and Jill walked right past him in the opposite direction. "Hey!" he called out. "Hey, Jill, got a minute?"
She paused at the top of the stairs and looked down at him blankly but said nothing.
"J-Jill, can we talk?"
 |
| Even though Bill "wasn't that into her", he still wanted to be good friends. |
"What about?" she asked coldly. He turned and walked up the stairs slowly to join her. "I -- I just thought something might be wrong between us."
"Nothing's wrong!" she said with heat.
"Well, I mean I just sense a distance between us in the last few days."
"All in your mind," she said as she turned away without looking at him again.
He followed her. "Well, I mean like that. Just now. You were friendly when I came. We were friends. Now, you're treating me like a stranger. Or maybe like someone you don't want to know."
"Maybe I don't!" answered Jill.
She was stalking away to her room trying to hold back the tears. She didn't like herself for the way she was treating him, but couldn't help herself.
"Oh, you can't mean that. Jill, we are cousins, and friends! Let's get back to the way it used to be."
She stopped at the door of her room, but would not face him. "Oh, I think that is just pretty impossible now." Then, under her breath Jill added, "You don't want what I had to offer."
"Well, just because I don't believe I should be your boy friend, doesn't mean we can't hang out and have fun -- like we used to," he repeated.
"Maybe I just need some space," she said -- and quickly slammed the door behind her.
All of this was not lost on the Simpsons. Gene and Margaret both had made separate observations of the interactions between their daughters and their oldest nephew. Finally Margaret felt compelled to speak out. She went into her kitchen and prepared a steam kettle
 |
| A cup of tea suddenly sounded really good to Jill . . . |
"Are you making tea? In the summer?"
"Tea's good any time. You know that. And anyway, you can throw some ice in yours once it's brewed if you like."
Jill knew what was coming. Tea or no tea, she was going to have to listen to her mother -- even if she chose not to answer back.
"Jill, Darling, I've noticed the way you've suddenly begun to treat your cousin."
"Which one?" asked Jill forcing herself to stare out the kitchen window and trying hard to sound as if she didn't know what her mom meant.
"You know perfectly well which one. Look at me, Jill." Jill complied reluctantly. The water was hot and Margaret made the tea for them both. She set it down in front of her daughter; she couldn't help herself as her heart filled with love. Jill reminded her so much of herself at that same age. Jill looked at her cup of tea, then over at the sugar bowl. She reached for the latter and dipped out a heaping spoonful of sugar, stirring it slowly into her hot cup.
"I'll be blunt, Dear. Since Sunday afternoon, you've been I treating Bill almost as if he has the plague. You're not spending hardly any time with him, and the times I've heard you talk you don't even sound friendly to him."
Jill shrugged and sipped her sweet tea. She was glad she was drinking it hot; it sent a rush through her whole system -- sort of a cleansing radiance. She heard herself answering, "I'm mad at Bill."
"Okay," nodded Margaret. "Now, we're getting somewhere. I think I know why, but I can't read your mind, and I want to hear you tell me."
"He hurt my feelings, Mom." Margaret nodded. She was so grateful that even in these first throes of adolescence her daughter would still talk to her quite honestly. "And how exactly did Bill hurt your feelings?"
 |
| Jill just needed a good cry . . . . And she got herself one! |
Jill nearly burst out in sobs, "Ooohhh, Mom!"
"Was it because of what happened at church?" she asked. Jill shook her head.
"After," she sniffed, with her face down on her arms.
"And what happened after?" she probed gently, taking another sip of the good, black tea.
"Oh, Mom," she repeated. "I told him something I probably never should have. And I -- I embarrassed myself."
Margaret put her arm around her daughter and hugged her.
"You know, Jill, when I was about your age, there was a special boy -- older than me. Like Bill."
"Oh, Mom!" she said again, "my life isn't like yours!" But she couldn't bring herself to roll her eyes. She actually wanted to hear this story. Margaret knew that and continued.
"I did special things for this guy. I talked to him in a special way. I dropped plenty of hints to let him know how I felt." Margaret laughed as she remembered. "I even found an old pair of his gymn socks and washed them for him!"
Jill's mouthed gaped open, and both were laughing at this memory. "Oooohhhh, Mooooomm!!" After a good, long laugh, Margaret's face grew more serious. "But none of it worked," she continued. "He didn't feel the same way toward me. In fact --," she paused. Jill looked up expectantly.
"This special young man already had a girl closer to his age that he liked a lot."
"I bet he wasn't your cousin," shot Jill.
"No. No, he wasn't related to me, that's true. But what I'm saying is I know how you feel -- at least a little bit."
Jill said nothing, but nodded and sniffed again. That was the funny thing about crying. You couldn't just stop whenever you wanted. You had to let it run its course.
 |
| She'd put a damned old frog in the guy's locker at school. Sheesh! |
"And sooo, my dear -- you know what I did?"
"What?"
"I suddenly started treating him like an enemy. We had been at least friends -- though not close. And suddenly I stopped speaking to him; or if I did speak, I was abrupt and even rude."
"What did he do?"
"Well, Jill, I think he was baffled at first. But then he just went on with his life; because after all I just wasn't really that important to him."
Jill was quiet, gripping her tea like she needed the warmth badly. "So you were sad a long, long time after that. And I bet you felt like a fool."
"I was sad. And I was embarrassed." Margaret paused, wondering to herself if she should tell the rest of this story. A queer look grew on her face. "But I wasn't finished either!" Margaret added. And she couldn't hide her sly smile. Jill looked at her curiously.
"You weren't finished telling me? I'm sorry, Mom, if I butted in . . . ."
Margaret laughed out loud and touched her daughter's hand. "No, Dear, you didn't butt in. I meant I wasn't finished with him!"
"Wha -- what do you mean? What did you do?"
Margaret could barely stifle a giggle. "I got my brother to catch a big frog. And we put it in his locker at school -- when he wasn't looking of course!"
Jill laughed in spite of herself, just imagining the shock of that young man when he opened the door and encountered the frog. After a minute both had calmed down somewhat.
"Soooo -- you're suggesting I should do something surprising to Bill to get even with his not feeling the same?"
Margaret laughed again. "Of course not! Though I can see how you might draw that conclusion."
 |
| Margaret assured her daughter, "If you'll just be yourself plenty of guys will notice and like you! |
"You should just continue to be yourself, Dear. I mean your real self. The Jill who is sweet,
helpful, friendly, lovable, smart, and funny. That self."
Jill pushed her cup away and looked out the window again. "I thought I was myself -- just angry at Bill and probably showing it."
"You were definitely showing it on purpose. You might be embarrassed now, but you'll get over it. Remember all of the things about Bill you like. And tell yourself it's okay to be close friends, and --"
"And nothing more," finished Jill with a great, big sigh. "It still feels awkward . . . ."
"That will pass," encouraged her mom. "Now, there's plenty of daylight left. You haven't played tennis in awhile. Go get your racket and invite Bill and Jack to play you two in doubles."
Jill thought to herself, "that would be fun . . . ."
"Hey, Billie Boy!" she called out in that funny, hick voice he always liked.
LBC
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Hey, thanks for reading. Enjoy AND USE God's world to the full (otherwise you'll be disobeying Him!) Seriously. I'm serious, Mon!! Get your big shovel, and start digging in the ground . . . find oil, gas, coal, burn it, use it; refine it, and travel and function by it! It's God's will, AND we can now do it cleanly! It is time to obey God's orders from Genesis 1!