Chapter Thirteen
All of Mike’s classmates were at the funeral. Older boys served at the altar and later told him they were sorry. Mike was lost amongst his relatives, however. His parents’ families were large, and his parents were among the youngest of them. Mike was reintroduced to everyone, either by his father or at the relatives’ own initiative, but it didn’t really take. He was akin these people, he understood, but he could never see how.
Rodger was meanwhile processing the embarrassment he had felt since Veronica left. Her passing reintroduced their estrangement as an issue for all who knew him, but Rodger’s dutiful trip to California, their apparent reconciliation, her reception of the sacraments, and his transport of her body home, changed things. Rodger certainly felt it, and he was grateful his passive loss had been ameliorated by Veronica’s supplication, his action, and the grace of God.
After the burial and dinner, Rodger found himself talking to a classmate who lived in Kansas City. Their common schooling from kindergarten put Rodger at ease with the fellow, though they were very different sorts. The classmate had been salutatorian in high school and was now a medical doctor.
“I’m in public health,” the classmate said, which didn’t mean much to Rodger. “Do you work in a hospital?” Rodger asked. “No,” came the reply, “I work for the state. We deal with health problems and the appropriate public response.” Rodger’s pause prompted more from his classmate.
“Well, take unwanted pregnancies. Kansas is progressive in that we just decriminalized abortion, although I know the church doesn’t like it. So what’s the solution? How do you stop unwanted pregnancies? Contraception, obviously.”
Rodger shifted uneasily and felt, more than thought, that he was quite a bit stronger than this guy. His classmate didn’t notice.
“So I’m on a team helping poor women get access to contraception. The pill, condoms, spermicides, whatever. If women have access to birth control, then every child will be wanted. This is better for everyone. I really can’t see what the pope’s hang up is, anyway.”
Rodger experienced a strange dislocation. He had always been the slower, inarticulate one. But here was “the smart guy” of his class spouting nonsense. Rodger suddenly perceived himself as better and more savvy than a highly educated doctor. It was as if life had taught Rodger well, and books had poisoned his classmate’s mind. Or, perhaps, his classmate had always been this weak, and book learning covered for complete idiocy.
Rodger felt ill at this uncharitable thought, so he tried pity instead. It was unexpectedly available to him. “Well,” Rodger began, “I’m not sure contraception will work out. It takes two to tango, and if they’re not on the same dance card, someone gets left behind.”
It was his classmate’s turn to pause quizzically. Rodger tried again.
“Look, I know you mean well, but there’s a soul in that body. And treating the body but hurting the soul doesn’t work. We all die anyway, and if the soul is dead too, then what good is that? And maybe, if we put the soul first, the body will come along, natural like.”
The most sustained and cogent argument of Rodger’s life caught his classmate off guard. The fellow looked down and scuffed the floor, saying mostly “well . . . .” “Think about it, will you?” Rodger asked, completing the inversion of roles. “Okay,” the classmate said, relaxing somewhat, “I will.” They shook hands and parted. Rodger decided he had visited enough.
Not far away was Mike, sitting on a bench, dangling his feet. Rodger held out his hand, and the boy jumped forward, grasping it with his own. They went out to the parking lot, to a Wimbledon white 1965 Ford Mustang. A parishioner had purchased it new for his daughter to attend K.U., and he made Rodger a deal. An inline-6, it was lighter than the Chevelle, so it performed better, and it probably handled better than Mustangs with the V-8. The car also sported a four-speed transmission, completing the package.
Mike sat in the front passenger seat. Rodger got behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition, and hesitated. Looking over at Mike, he asked, “Where would you like to go?” Mike thought of home, but it didn’t seem enough. “I don’t have school until Monday,” he offered. “I don’t work until Monday,” echoed Rodger, “how about we camp at Cheney for a few days?” “Okay,” Mike said. “We’ll stop to get a new cooler on the way home,” Rodger said, starting the car.
