Copyright 2007 by madengineer3
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It is interesting that some of the understandings that truly set us free to be ourselves can be some of the most painful experiences that we can face. All the way through high school and college I was on the heavy side. It was unfortunate that all of the people around me, in my social and cultural milieu tended to be interested only in the girls that looked like they had modeled for Playboy centerfolds or guys that were either rich or physically powerful and handsome. Heaven help the young woman or young man who had physical limitations or who was, on the whole, plain. Now please note I did not say ugly! Just being plain was enough to limit your possibilities. If you also happened to carry a few extra pounds, well let's just say that your social life was almost non-existent.
I went to a relatively prestigious technical college majoring in physics and minoring in mathematics. My name is Paul, and at that time I was about 5'6" and weighed about 170 pounds. Unfortunately I was also very shy around the opposite sex and was not the sharpest student in my class. All I had going for me was a desire to succeed and relatively good common sense.
After graduation with my B.S. I went to work in industry. In fact I went to work doing work as an electrical engineer. (If you get back to the true fundamentals of any type of engineering you end up at physics. It is a good study for a generalist. And generalists are in relatively high demand where practical solutions are needed.) For a time I made the typical mistakes that come with being on a steep learning curve. For example I had never worked with the core architecture of digital processors before. I became relatively adept at processor design. Again, my social life was limited. We were working on government projects for several "hush hush" programs. We had to watch out with whom we socialized for security reasons. I had to interface with representatives from NSA, the NRO, and one of the largest military digital telephoto camera manufacturers on earth. I had little free time.
All thorough this time I had the nagging feeling that there was something wrong with me. After all, people always talked about their "conquests" and wild party life, and I simply lived and worked at what I was good at.
After a while my life became quite routine, not truly satisfactory, but routine. That is until we had a new engineer join our group early last year. Susan was not a stunning knockout. She wasn't rich. She didn't drive a fancy car or talk a smooth line that would make you think she was someone special. She was, however, real! Now, I can't fully describe this quality of "realness". She didn't seem to have a vain bone in her body. If she heard something in confidence, she didn't repeat it. If she told you she would do something, she would do anything in her power to do exactly what she had said, or more, without expecting to be praised for it. If Susan saw someone who needed a hand, she would supply it without feeling that they owed her anything. When she engaged in a conversation she could be very "witty" without using crude language or putting anyone down. I am sure that she had heard plenty of crude words and crude jokes, but she never indicated that she did.
Except for some very close family members I had never run into a person like this before. I wanted to know her better. A chance to do that came along after several months. Susan was commenting that she was going to move from one apartment to another. She had shared an apartment with another woman who didn't share her values, although she had "talked the right talk" prior to moving in. In fact the other woman turned out to lie, be a borderline alcoholic and used "recreational drugs" on a regular basis. This wasn't Susan's lifestyle. Susan finally had to find a place to move to. Her roommate was falling behind on her half of the rent and utilities every month. More and more of the operating funds were coming from Susan.
Over lunch, in the company cafeteria, she indicated that she couldn't see a way around the problem she faced. Since the economy in the city where we worked was booming the cost of single apartments was astronomical. She couldn't afford the price of a single apartment and succeed at her attempt to repay her student loans early. I thought that maybe I could help.
Now, I live in a somewhat unusual set of circumstances. I live out of town in a large, old, farm house. When my father died, I had decided to live at home so that my mother wouldn't have to be uprooted. My father had been a pastor of a small rural independent Congregational church. If you don't know about the salary scales in such churches suffice it to say that minimum wage would have constituted a significant raise. My mother is somewhat hard of hearing and is quite visually challenged, so a change in location would not be good for her. I purchased the house from the my father's estate, for more that it was really worth, and put the money in long term bonds and securities in my mother's name. That way she would have the funds to do most of the things that she might like to do, in her old age. I had the money since I am single and had been working for a good salary for several years. It also doesn't hurt that I have been rather successful as an investor in the stock market.
My house, an old farmhouse, has five bedrooms. My mother, of course, has her own room, as do I. I have an older sister who was born with some serious genetic problems. She never learned to read, and with her memory there is no chance that she could find gainful employment in anything but a sheltered workshop. She is, however, gifted in one area; she likes to clean and does a very good job at it. The bus from our local sheltered workshop picks her up every week day for work. Anyway, we occupy three of the five bedrooms. That leaves two bedrooms that have been largely unused for as long as I could remember.
I finally made up my mind on what I needed to do. I asked Susan if she would join me for dinner on Friday. I told her that I would like her to meet some people and that maybe there was a solution to her housing problem. She thanked me and said that she would have to think about it.
On Thursday she came in to work, obviously upset. During a break I wondered over to her area and asked if something was wrong. She almost broke down. Her roommate had brought drunken friends in for an overnight and one of them had tried to sexually assault her during the night. She was at her wit's end. I asked her about Friday and reminded her that there might be a solution for her problem. On the spur of the moment she told me she would join me for dinner.
I had already bought the various provisions that I would need for the meal. I had assumed that she would come. It was, at this time, late fall. What I had purchased were the ingredients for a very nice old fashioned beef stew. Both my mother and sister really like the way I make stew.
Anyway, when quitting time came around on Friday I offered to give Susan a lift to where we were going, since there are a fair number of turns on roads with no lighting. I told her I would drive her back to her car at the end of the meal and any conversation that we had. I could see that she was a bit reluctant, but she finally agreed to do this.
When we arrived at my home, my sister was just walking toward the house after taking one of her late afternoon walks. Susan immediately wanted to know about my sister. After all, some physical problems are relatively easy to spot. I explained that the people I wanted her to meet were my sister and my mother. Susan looked confused.
When we got in the house I directed Susan to the main bathroom so that she could wash her hands before dinner. While she was doing that I brought the huge crock pot, containing the stew, and set it on the dining room table. My sister had done a very nice job of cleaning. Everything looked just right.
Susan came into the dining room and joined us at the table. As is our custom we said grace and then I started to serve the stew. Susan had never had stew the way I make it. Many people don't put rutabaga and turnip into beef stew, along with the cabbage, onions, carrots, potatoes and beef. With this stew the idea is to mash the vegetables with your fork and load them up with good butter and coarse ground black pepper.
As the meal progressed I explained the way our house worked. I especially explained that there were two spare bedrooms that had not used for decades. I also indicated that since they were next to each other I could turn one of them into a private bathroom. It was about that time that Susan started to see what I had in mind.
The first question that she had to ask was a bit pointed. "What would the total cost be for me if I were to take you up on this kind offer? What types of things would you expect me to do?"
She asked the question in a very polite way, but the unsaid question was there. She wanted to know if I would expect any special physical favors from her for the ability to use the room. "Susan, I value you way too much as a co-worker and as a person to try to take advantage of you. This house is paid for. All I have to supply are maintenance, heat, electricity, insurance, and taxes. I would suggest that the room, with a bathroom I can put in, would cost you under $200 per month. Of course if you want to eat with us every day, that might go up to cover the extra food, but even that is negotiable. I'm not trying to get rich, and having another woman around as companionship for my mom and sister would be great. There are no strings, of any sort, attached to this offer. Your rooms will have good locks on the doors. Your things will be safe, and you will be safe. You can think about this offer for as long as you wish. Would you like to see the rooms?"
She indicated that she would, so I turned on the back hall light and led her to the rear two rooms. They were typical of large old farm houses. The rooms themselves were the better part of 16' by 13' with nine foot ceilings. The floors were typical old wide plank wooden floors. The heating system in the house used steam radiators. Each room had a large walk in closet that was almost as large as a small dormitory room.
I could tell from her face that she was seriously considering this! She turned to me and said; "Let me have the weekend to think about this. If you would drive me back to my car I'd appreciate it."
So, I drove back into town and waited until she was safely in her car. I waved to her and headed back home.
It was Saturday evening that I got her call. She sounded like she was beside herself. I had never heard so much pain in her voice before.
"Paul, I need help. My roommate brought her friends over again, and I couldn't fight them off. I called the police and they sent me to the hospital for a rape evidence kit to be done. I can't go back to my apartment until I have someone with me. They know the name of the guy who did this, but he is still out there somewhere. Is there some way that I can come out there tonight? I want to take you up on your offer of a room."
I told her that I would be at the company parking lot in thirty-five minutes. She said that she would pick up some things, with a policewoman with her for protection, and see me then.
I hurriedly dressed. Just in case, I put my 12ga pump shotgun in the back seat and pocketed five shells loaded with buckshot. I was in the parking lot thirty-three minutes later. She was waiting for me. A police car had accompanied her, and on her signal the police left. It was then that I noticed that there was a older van parked in the dark rear corner of the parking lot and it looked like it was running.
I got out of my car and went over to tell her the route we would be taking to my place. As I was heading back to my car, the van started to drive over to her. She had parked under a light so as the van approached and turned broadside to us we could see the occupants.
Susan became very pale and said; "those are the guys that were in my apartment earlier. What are we going to do?"
