Integrity: Chapter 4
For a while, Cindi and I were as close as ever – maybe even closer. And, even when I sensed a distance building between us, it was hard to put my finger on. I wasn’t even sure, for a while, that it was real. I did nothing during that time to increase that distance, and I even tried to close it. But it soon became clear that just passively trying to be close wasn’t going to work. Something was bothering her, and I needed to find out what it was.
It wasn’t easy to find out. She avoided the issue – because I couldn’t put my finger on just what was happening, why I sensed the distance, I also couldn’t make her face the issue. I came to realize she was not being honest. Dishonesty is easier to fall into than many realize, and it’s expected and tolerated in many circles. But it was time to clarify another aspect of our relationship.
“You realize how important honesty and integrity are to me,” I said. “I do everything within my power to live with honor. You know this, don’t you?” She nodded. I continued. “I need and expect the same from those I am close to. Perfection is impossible, but I need to know if I can always count on you to be honest and honorable to the best of your ability.”
She looked up at me, seeming both shy and humble – almost fearful. “I will,” she said. “I’ll do my best for you.”
I was glad to hear this. It surprised me to realize that I had not asked her this fundamental question earlier, before becoming so close. It was a relief for me to find out that this was okay. I smiled and looked on her tenderly. I knew that honesty and integrity are heavy, difficult subjects when one feels vulnerable. “That’s all I ask of you,” I said, smiling bigger to try and get her to smile, too. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
She appeared to relax a little, but remained silent.
“Please tell me,” I repeated, “or look into my eyes and tell me that nothing is wrong.”
She looked into my eyes, and I realized right then that she wasn’t smiling, and hadn’t smiled in my presence for some time. It may even be how I sensed there was distance. How subtle the signs of the inner mind’s workings can be sometimes! “There’s something wrong,” she said, “but I’m afraid to tell you. Maybe it’s just silly, but I’m afraid to tell you.”
“We can be good friends if you never tell me,” I said. “But you can sense how this is putting some distance between us. Many good friends have a little distance between them. It’s your choice. I think we can be much closer, like I think you and I both want to be, if you tell me. I can’t imagine anything you can tell me that would make me think less of you right now. I think you risk more by not telling me.”
I felt every word that I told her. I wanted her to be open with me. I was willing to take the risk, to learn more about her. An honest person has nothing to hide from those who are close to them, those whom they trust. “Do you trust me?” I asked.
“Yes, more than anyone I’ve ever known,” she said. “I’m just afraid you won’t understand.”
“If I don’t understand right away,” I said, “you can help me until I do.” By this time, I was wondering if she were dangerous, if she’d been a criminal. I was ready to accept anything. This is how important she was to me. Already, I was beginning to wonder if such devotion to someone I’d known such a short time were wise. But that was premature. I didn’t even know what she had to say.
“Remember that night I slept over?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said.
“And you told me you’d never…”
“Yes, I hope that isn’t a problem,” I answered, half joking.
“No, of course not,” she replied. “I told you, I admire that.”
“I don’t seem to be reading your mind yet.” I tried not to sound impatient. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong?”
“I’m not as … admirable as you are,” she told me after a long pause.
Then it was my turn to pause. Was she just concerned that I would not accept her past? Did she think I was a prude, demanding celibacy – virginity, even – just because I had made that choice for myself? Or was there more? But I’d come to trust her – I knew something of about her moral fiber, or thought I did. So I couldn’t think what else it could be.
I’d paused too long. She was looking uncomfortable. “Are you talking about the past?” I asked. “Before we became close?”
“Oh yes, of course!” she said. “Long before I even met you! And I’m not ashamed of it – but I was afraid you’d see me as tainted or something.”
And I was relieved. “Is that all it is?” I asked. “Is that really all there is?” I took her hand in mine and said, “Your experiences have formed you, made you who you are. And I like who you are.” She smiled, possibly for the first time in days. “You and I will never be the same person,” I continued. We will never hold the exact same values.
“You and I are still learning about each other. But I want to learn about who you are now, not what you did then. We don’t need to discuss your past at all except when you want to, if it bothers you. As we learn about each other, we may grow closer or we may grow apart. But your past will never make me grow apart from you. Now, are you sure that’s all?”
Before she answered, I knew that was all. I could see it in her smile. “Yes,” she said, visibly relieved. “Yes, that’s all.”
So it was a big deal over nothing. Even now, despite all that’s happened, I still see it that way. Her smile spoke volumes to me. I do not have the gift of an infectious personality. When I go on and on for more than a sentence or so, as I had just done with her, most people’s eyes tend to glaze over. It makes it difficult for me to make friends. I have to keep everything short and sweet or nobody wants to listen. But many of my thoughts are just too complex to fit nicely into ten-second sound bites. Cindi always seemed to understand that, and I treasured her for it.
“If that’s all,” I told her, “then it’s nothing. You never made any claims about your past. And you’ve never made me any promises about the future. You could date someone else tomorrow without breech of honor.”
“I don’t want to,” she said quietly, almost whispering.
“You don’t have to want to. I’m just saying…”
“I know I’m still learning about you. But I want to make a promise to you, if you will make the same promise to me.”
“I don’t make promises lightly. But I’m willing to listen.”
And so I listened. And it turned out not to be such a big deal. She wasn’t dating anyone else, and neither was I. And so we agreed to keep it that way – be exclusive. We were another step closer to each other. We had that much more trust in each other. I imagine everyone does these agreements differently. For us, it just meant that whoever wanted to change the nature of the relationship had to tell the other. It was very simple; I essentially agreed to do something I would have done anyway – and I think she did, too.
I had no uneasiness about it back then. But now I do. It now feels like this is where I began to set myself up – where my caution really began to fail. But there is no reason to blame myself. It’s not my fault. But, as I was saying, things felt pretty good right then. I’d even started to like how she spelled her name.
To tell the truth, I had given up on finding someone who would see the merits of my viewpoints and life choices so easily. I still believe that most Americans hold my values; but they don’t realize how irreconcilable they are with other viewpoints creeping into our culture. I did not have to explain things to Cindi to gain her respect. I had that from the beginning. When I did explain things, she did not feel I was preaching to her. I could be myself, and not worry. I wanted it to be true, but at first didn’t believe it could be. As the months wore on, however, I began to accept the evidence.
Change is a constant in the universe. During that golden time, everything seemed to be changing for the better. I felt warm and happy about being alive. So I decided to accept the change in my life as real. Whether or not the relationship was permanent, I still didn’t know. But I did know that I had found someone similar enough to me to understand me. And I knew the significance of that was lifelong, no matter what.
After we made our little promise, after we smiled into each other’s eyes and reveled in our newly found understanding, we kissed for a long time. It was a long enough time for us to melt together, to feel as if our souls were united for a time, and could speak freely, without the confines of language. It was difficult to part at the end of the evening. We felt we belonged together.
