Scholar Ross said, "Last week the Westchester Young People's Club gave
a costume ball. The young ladies were to attend this affair adorned in
the authentic fashion of some period in the past, and a prize was to be
awarded to the most novel, yet completely authentic costume."
"And," said Gloria with a smile, "I won!"
"Your daughter won because she has a talent for performing the most
shocking deeds under a cloak of intellectual achievement."
"Do go on, Scholar Ross. What did Gloria do?"
* * * * *
The scholar smiled wryly. "Style and fashion ceased to be logical when
clothing was designed for sly provocation rather than as a protection
against a harsh environment," he said. "We live in a mixed-up social
world. We encourage communal swimming and sun bathing in the nude--and
yet after five o'clock it is considered shocking to display more than
the bare face and hands.
"So in order to combine the maximum shock-effect with the cloak of
utter authenticity, Miss Hanford researched the styles and fashions
until she located a brief period of a few scant months late in the
Twentieth Century. Her costume consisted of a many-fold voluminous
skirt of semi-transparent material that draped in graceful folds
from waist to mid-calf. She was completely nude above the waist! To
prove her point, she offered fashion stereos of the period from style
magazines."
Gloria chuckled. "I might have researched back to the Old Testament,"
she said.
Scholar Ross shook his head. "As I say, her shocking behavior could not
be criticized. She could justify it according to the rules."
Mr. Hanford shook his head and asked, "Gloria, what did Bertram think
of all this?"
"Bertram carried the style stereos," said Gloria. "There wasn't any
pocket in my costume."
Abruptly, Scholar Ross said, "Miss Hanford, how are you and Bertram
getting along?"
"As well as could be expected."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that each of us lives our own life. Berty likes his sedentary,
torpid existence. In fact, he'd like to be more of a vegetable than
he is. It started with his taking my pills and that was all right, I
guess. But when he started sleeping in my bedroom so that he could
estivate under the tranquilizing music program you prescribed for me,
that was too much!"
Scholar Ross looked unprecedentedly astonished. "So?" he demanded.
"What do you mean 'so'? What would any red blooded woman do? I moved
out and into his bedroom, naturally."
"And then started taking his medication?" asked Scholar Ross curtly.
"Natch!"
"Oh, my God!" exploded Scholar Ross. He eyed Gloria intently. "How do
you manage to get Bertram awake far enough to attend things like your
costume ball?" he asked.
"Well," she said with a smile, "I am really strong enough to sling
a hundred and eighty-five pounds of loosely-stuffed sausage over my
shoulder in a fireman's carry and tote the inert mass back to its own
bedroom so that its own music will rouse it enough to reach for its
bedside bottles of medication. Nature then takes its course until the
awakening. Then he goes along with my desires--because he knows that if
he doesn't, I won't let him dive back into his complete inertia. It's
very simple. Of course, it isn't much fun."
* * * * *
Scholar Ross said, "Gloria, do you intend to continue this sort of
self-centered, artificial life after you and Bertram are married?"
"I've given the future very little thought."
"You always have," said Scholar Ross unhappily. "That's been a lot of
your trouble."
"So what am I supposed to do? Do you really expect me to marry that
vegetable? I've got a life to lead too, you know. It may suit your
overall program of genetics to breed a batch of normal children, but
the same Book of Laws grants me the right to seek my own level of
happiness."
"Granted--"
"Well, scholar, I can tell you that my idea of happiness is not a
husband who comes into my bedroom walking like a somnambulist just
barely able to cross the room before collapsing like a loosely-packed
sandbag."
"What you need," said Scholar Ross firmly, "is a man who is strong
enough to tell you what you're going to do."
"And where are you going to find one?"
Scholar Ross turned from Gloria to her parents. "Obviously," he said
regretfully, "this proposed marriage between your daughter and Bertram
Harrison is not going to culminate in a happy union."
"Did you expect it to?" asked Gloria.
"I had hopes. I can only propose a course of action. Were you willing
to embark upon your prescribed program of corrective therapy, and
so become a normally active and emotionally stable woman, then the
marriage might work out very well indeed."
"It's all my fault, of course?"
"Yes. Of course. The decision was yours to make."
"And how about that lump of lard you've foisted off on me?"
"Bertram Harrison's willing retreat into total lethargy is, of course,
his own decision. But it, too, is only another aspect of the usual
case. The strong-willed personality makes its own way. The weak one
follows."
"I see," sneered Gloria. "It's all my fault!"
"Of course it is," snapped Scholar Ross. "Were you willing to correct
yourself, you'd also have been willing to correct Bertram since yours
is the stronger personality."
"So what's the next move? Do I get to try another dolt?"
"Hardly. You'd do the same with any of them."
"So what is it? Am I going to be exported to Eden, Tau Ceti as an
incorrigible?"
Scholar Ross was silent.
* * * * *