When I told Brenda what happened she reacted in a big way. “Now we can’t get married! What about our plans? What are you going to do? How are you going to support us? You don’t know anything but selling electronics. What good is a stupid degree in Classical Literature?”
“Just shut up a minute!” I yelled. I have a salesman’s touch. I can sell anything as long as I know more about it than the customer. I won’t be making an Assistant Manager salary but along with your income from teaching we’ll be fine.”
This touched off an even bigger bomb: “Teach! I’m not going to teach! I don’t want to be around kids all day. Is that why you got fired? You thought you’d make me be the bread winner so you could sit around reading your stupid classical literature and talk to Samuelson about your stupid books.”
“That’s it. I’m out of here. Call me when you unscramble your brain.‘
She didn’t call me and I didn’t call her. Apparently Ike was right. I was not the guy Brenda thought I was, but then I certainly didn’t see Brenda as a girl who went to college to get a husband to support her. The grand illusions of my life had suddenly become a pile of rubble. One day an archeologist would pore through ruins and wonder what great catastrophe caused the fall of an empire to rival Rome.