It's Bliss (3 page)

Can I count on your help and support?” he asked, looking at each one.

“
Hey, leave me outa this, Shel,” Don stated firmly. “In our diet center, my expertise is in male fitness. Nettie handles the female part. I’ll just go along with whatever Nettie says on this.”

“
All right, Don.”

Robert answered next. “I’ll have to think this over for at least a week, and discuss it with my wife.”

Nettie and Hal agreed they also needed a week to think about taking on such a daunting task. Hal told them he wanted to talk it over with his wife, also.

“
And while you’re thinking about it,” Sheldon added, “I need you to think about doing me another big favor. Would you each consider being a support for one of them? But since we’ve picked four, that means I also will be required to be a support for one. However,” he said rubbing his forehead nervously, “if my student chooses to work on her weight first, I don’t have any expertise in that area and I’m afraid I’ll need some support myself.”

The group looked at each other and laughed at the thought of their “proper” friend in the possible role he had just assigned himself.

Nettie spoke up. “Don’t worry, Shel, I’ll help the girls. All you’ll have to do is encourage and support them.”

“
Thanks, Nettie,” he sighed with relief. “Now, another thought—shouldn’t we meet with our assigned girl on a regular basis, say once a week, to see how she’s doing and encourage her?”

“
If we decide to do this,” Robert said, “meeting with them on a regular basis will be very important, but I suggest that in addition to that, regular group meetings should be held once a week for a while as an added support to the girls.”

“
I agree with Robert about adding the group meeting,” Nettie said. “In spite of your attitude, Shel, this promises to be a very unusual and interesting experiment. I may be able to learn something valuable for our Diet Center if we go ahead with it.”

“
Nettie will be valuable in helping the girls learn how to eat right,” added Hal.

“
But,” interjected Robert, “the big question is, can we find four out of that class of yours who have a strong enough desire to be successful or improve themselves?”

Sheldon frowned. “Hmm, that’s a good question, Robert. I’m wondering about that myself.”

“
And,” continued Robert, “bribery may work and it may not. I think you’ll need to check up on each of them at the end of two years to see if it really worked.”

Sheldon mulled this over. “I think you’re right again. In order to make it a solid experiment, that should be done.” He heaved a sigh. “Maybe it won’t work. It’s just that I’ve seen successful business women and I’ve noticed the qualities that got them there and I would like my class to . . .” his voice trailed off.

Nettie came to his rescue. “I think it’s wonderful, Shel, that you want to help the young women in your class. We’ll give it some serious thought and meet next Friday.”

“
Thank you, Nettie. You’re one of those successful business women I’m talking about. My class could learn from you.”

-

Saturday night after toasting several frozen waffles and heating some precooked ham slices, Dr. Sheldon Ackerman sat down at the kitchen table to eat and go over the assignment his 280 class handed in the day before.

Discouragement set in as he read their goals. It was obvious that some were written without thought just because it was a request from their professor.

They were unrealistic and absurd. So far, only a couple seemed to be thought out in advance. He sighed as he lifted the page to read the next one. He was stunned. Instead of written goals, there was a one line message to him! He read the cryptic sentence over and over trying to understand it.

IT’S YOUR FAULT DR. ACKERMAN!

“
What’s my fault?” he asked the signature which accompanied the accusation—Billie Bliss. He knew the name, but only the name. He remembered it because it was unusual, and because, of the two brief tests he had given thus far, her scores were the highest in the class. He tried to think of her face but knew it was useless. Females were an enigma to him. The majority of the time he only looked at them as a group, not individually. If those few he had noticed specifically were put in a group, he would not be able to recognize any one of them if his life depended on it. Remembering female faces had never been his long suit.

“
What is my fault?” he again asked the absent and elusive Miss Bliss. His ire was up. “Why that impudent young woman!” He was definitely going to have a serious talk with her Monday after class.

Monday at 10:00 a.m., Dr. Ackerman, his dark brows arching majestically above his glasses, studied each young woman who entered the 280 class.

His brows knitted together in irritation as he tried to decide which one was the impertinent Miss Bliss. To be more correct, he supposed it should be Ms. Bliss.

Maybe, he thought, it’s that flippant-looking blonde who flounced in. Or maybe it’s that carelessly dressed girl with the stringy hair and sour expression.

Yes. She must be the one. His eyes followed her as she shuffled to a seat near the front. Studying her while she rummaged through the backpack, he saw her pull out what looked like a paperback romance. The audacity of the girl!

Of course. She was probably the one who completely flunked the last test and was now blaming it on him. No. He forgot. Billie Bliss got the highest score on the last exam. The girl with the paperback was not her. The bell rang, startling him, indicating it was time for class to start.

Just as he stood up to begin his lecture, two girls straggled in late, giggling and whispering. After one dropped a book and the other one stumbled over it, causing more giggles, they finally settled down, both looking up innocently, expectantly.

He glared at them, then cleared his throat to begin. There was no text for the class, only his hard-earned years of knowledge gained in the business world. The class was expected to take notes from his lectures and read assignments from the books on business and money-making that the benefactor had donated to the Fairfield University library.

“
The lecture today,” he began, “is on reasons for small, new businesses not succeeding. We will learn what can be done to insure success instead of failure.” He stopped as he noticed the girl still reading the paperback. All heads followed his gaze.

“
You know, class, you are expected to take notes. You will be tested on my lectures and not,” his voice rose, “on romance novels.” The girl jerked her head up from the book and stared at him blankly. The class tittered. He repeated the admonition, certain that she hadn’t heard it at all. The girl gave him an ‘I couldn’t care less’ look and took her time closing the book and putting it away.

More impudence! he thought. Frustrated at the minutes wasted, he continued the lecture.

Eight minutes before the end of class, he concluded by saying, “I have read your goals and I would like to interview each of you concerning these goals. Here is a paper on my desk with the schedule of my free time. I want you to sign up for a time as you leave. The interviews will vary from ten to thirty minutes. Now, will a Ms. Billie Bliss raise her hand?” Mid-way down the middle row a hand rose reluctantly, but he couldn’t see her very well. “Will you please stay for a few minutes after class, Ms. Bliss?”

He sat down and began studying a book while pandemonium took place.

Finally, the last class member finished and walked out. Sensing someone standing in front of the desk, he looked up into the face of Billie Bliss. The first thing he noticed, of course, was that she was a little overweight. But the navy blue blazer did hide it nicely.

“
I’m Billie Bliss, Dr. Ackerman.”

“
I would assume so, yes,” he said.

“
You want to see me about what I put on my paper,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Here are my goals as you requested.” She handed him a paper.

He glared at her. “Handing your assignment in late, does not explain what you meant by that accusation.”

“
I know,” she said.

“
That is an impudence I won’t tolerate in my class, Ms. Bliss.”

“
Miss
Bliss,” she corrected. “I didn’t intend to be impudent, Dr. Ackerman. Truly I didn’t.”

He eyed her skeptically. “Then what did you mean by that statement?”

“
I merely stated a fact,” she said simply.

“
A fact?” He raised his voice. “A FACT!”

“
Well, it is
your fault
, Dr. Ackerman. But I assure you, you aren’t to blame.”

“
You speak in riddles, Miss Bliss.”

“
Nevertheless, that’s the way it is.”

Miss Bliss’ forthright manner and lack of defensiveness disarmed him, robbing him of his feeling of righteous indignation. It also left him thoroughly puzzled. In his experience, limited though it was, he found the opposite sex totally illogical. And again Miss Bliss had validated his conclusion that this was hopelessly their nature. He heaved a sigh. An illogical nature that, he supposed, all married men had to put up with.

Grateful that that excluded him, he asked. “Do you have a class right now, Miss Bliss?”

“
No, I don’t. I have two hours before the next one.”

“
Could you step into my office for a few moments, please?”

“
Yes.”

He stood up, gathered up the book and papers then led her out the door to his office. “Please have a seat, Miss Bliss.”

“
Thank you.” She pulled up one of the small, padded office chairs and looked around the large room. On the right stood an old oak bookcase full of books. An overflow of books was placed in neat piles on a credenza which sat under a window behind his desk. All these simply confirmed what the whole class thought—that Dr. Ackerman was a brain.On the left was a computer, printer and a copy machine. His desk, a severe old-style mahogany, was full of organized clutter and several open books.

Dr. Ackerman walked behind his desk and sat down facing her. “Now,” he said, putting his elbows on the desk and tapping his fingers together, “what is my fault, that I’m not to be blamed for?”

“
I assure you, Dr. Ackerman, you don’t want to hear it.”

His eyes were riveted on hers. “Then why did you write it down and hand it in if you knew I wouldn’t want to hear it?”

“
I was feeling rather exasperated with you right then, so at that time I wanted you to hear it.” She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a small, apologetic smile.

Dr. Sheldon Ackerman struggled to keep his mental balance. “Oh, is that right? May I ask again, what is my fault, that I’m not to be blamed for?”

“
But, Dr. Ackerman, after you hear the
what
, you will want to know the
why
.”

“
Try me and see.” His lips parted in what he intended as a smile. His eyes said otherwise.

“
All right,” she sighed. “It’s your fault that I’ve gained eight more pounds.”

Sheldon Ackerman gaped at her. Myriad thoughts darted through his mind. Could she have guessed about his observance of her weight? Why would she say this outrageous thing just . . .just as he was planning the project with the DeePees? Could someone have overheard them? He shook his head trying to reject these thoughts.

“
It’s
my
fault that you gained eight more pounds,” he repeated slowly, trying to believe she had said such a thing. “Now, Miss Bliss, I’m not asking you why you think it’s my fault, I’m asking you why you’re saying it right at this time?”

Billie Bliss looked puzzled. “Because it’s true this time as it was true that I gained five of the eight last term when I audited your 302 Business course, and now it’s true that after only two weeks into this term, I’ve already gained three more.” Suddenly, a distressed expression appeared on her face. “Just think how big I’ll be by the time the term ends!”

Dr. Ackerman was speechless. His muddled mind tried to make sense out of what she had just said. Unable to find any logic in her thinking, he jumped up. Placing his hands on the desk, he leaned over and glared at her. “Miss Bliss, people who blame their weaknesses on others need help.”

Billie also stood up. Folding her arms tightly across her midsection, she gazed directly into his face. “But I’m not blaming you, Dr. Ackerman,” she reiterated in exasperation.

“
Fault, blame, what’s the difference?”

“
There is a difference, Dr. Ackerman,” she said, emphasizing each word.

“
All right then,” he said, straightening up, trying to regain his composure, “tell me why it’s my fault.”

“
I told you the why would come next.”

“
So you did, Miss Bliss, so you did. Now, let’s both sit down and be calm.

They both sat and he, as patiently and calmly as he could manage, asked once more, “Why is it my fault?”

“
How many days and weeks do you have, Dr. Ackerman? It’s hard to put it into words. I don’t know how to explain it or at least in a way you’ll understand.

I have a PROBLEM—and you would have to see it in action. If you did, maybe you could tell
me
how to explain it.”