We Are Still Tornadoes
Page 3
And the pregnancy jokes? I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry about that, too.
Anyway, I hope you’ll forgive me. I’ll understand if you’d rather I not come down for that concert, and I’ll understand if you think it’s better if we stop writing to each other for a bit. You’ve got a lot to do at school, and I really should be working harder to take some pressure off my dad. If I don’t hear from you for a while, that’s cool—I’ll see you when you come home in a few months for Thanksgiving, okay?
With much more than vaguely positive feelings toward you at this moment,
Scott
P.S. If I do come down, I will bring brownies. Although I may lick them all first.
P.P.S. Quick Orioles update: they’re amazing. They’re in second place now. I think they can catch the Brewers!
P.P.P.S. I’m enclosing a tape I made for you as a piece offering. It’s got a bunch of English Beat songs on one side so you’ll recognize them at the concert, and it’s got that new Simple Minds album on the other side. The last song is a Kate Bush song called “Wuthering Heights” that I like. It reminds me of that book we were supposed to read junior year, and her voice reminds me of yours when you used to sing in the choir. I think you’ll like it.
P.P.P.P.S. Hold on a second. Were we supposed to read Wuthering Heights or Pride and Prejudice? They’re basically the same, right?
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
September 23, 1982
Dear Scott,
Thanks for your letter. We’re fine. Sorry if I was overly sensitive about the pregnancy jokes. And maybe I was overly sensitive about some other stuff, too. It was mean of me to say that you’re difficult. You’re no more difficult than I am. And you’ve saved my proverbial ass too many times to count. (I’m afraid I don’t know what proverb that’s from, either.) And now you’ve introduced me to Kate Bush! She’s amazing. I only wish I could sing like her.
Anyway, I expect to see you here for that English Beat concert. And, no, we don’t need to stop writing to each other. I look forward to your letters, too, and Dorothy keeps begging me to let her read them. (Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen.) So let’s just put this behind us and put it in the folder marked “Things We Don’t Talk About,” right next to that night at Burger King and the time you tried to grow a mustache.
I think you made an excellent point in your letter about how it may be different giving each other a hard time in writing than doing it in person. When we do it in writing, it’s permanent and you can go back and read it over and over again and try to figure out the meaning. When we do it in person, you can see the other person and tell that they’re joking or tell if their feelings are hurt.
That said, something good came out of our little miscommunication—College Boyfriend Number 1! His name is Walter. He’s a junior. He saw that I was upset and came over to talk to me, and now we’re dating! I’ll tell you more about him soon. We’re headed off to the Pit in a minute to get dinner together, so I need to wrap this up.
Love,
Cath
P.S. It’s “peace” offering, not “piece” offering.
P.P.S. Oh, the girl who kept hanging up the phone every time you called? That was me. Sorry.
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
September 27, 1982
Dear Cath,
What?
Scott
P.S. I knew it was you!
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
September 29, 1982
Dear Scott,
What do you mean, “What?” I know you haven’t always liked them, but I’ve had a boyfriend pretty much constantly since eighth grade, so why are you so surprised? Plus, as I may have mentioned, it’s your fault that Walter talked to me in the first place. I was sitting in Mag Court, near the bookstore and the campus post office, just staring into space, and he walked into my line of vision and said, “I’ve never seen you look sad before.”
Good line, right? I’m embarassed to tell you about it, but I’m also smiling like an idiot just thinking about it. Anyway, he sat down, and I started talking to him about you and our friendship and how your letter had made me sad. So, yeah, we’ve been hanging out a lot since then and I think I really like him. I’m a little worried that I’m too impressed by him. He’s introduced me to a bunch of his friends and fraternity brothers. Unlike most of my awkward freshman friends, Walter and his friends are very comfortable here, and everything they do seems cool. They have cars and live in upperclassman housing and know everything about everything. Of course, they also know about the English Beat and have tickets to the concert, so you’ll get to meet Walter and some of his frat brothers. He said you can stay on their hall while you’re visiting. I didn’t really answer him when he offered. I mean, we’ve slept in each other’s house so often, I don’t think it will be a big deal for you to sleep on my dorm room floor, but I’ll leave it up to you. Whatever makes you comfortable (and keeps you safe from Dorothy).
Speaking of Dorothy, I let her read your last letter. She was somewhat disappointed. You two are really going to hate each other. If it gets too bad, it might make sense for you to sleep at Walter’s fraternity house.
Warning—here comes the boring part about school—Biology is kicking my ass. I’m already thinking about changing majors. To what, I don’t know. That’s it for the boring stuff.
I talked to my parents on Sunday. My dad gave me the “little princess” stuff again, but there must have been some mix-up because he said he didn’t buy new pants at your dad’s store. Is there another guy in town who looks exactly like my dad? Yikes! My mom said she sees you “all dressed up” and heading out to work all the time, so I assume that you see her, too. Would you please stop and talk to her once or twice before you come to visit so you can let me know how she is? I miss her so much and I feel guilty about leaving her home alone with my boring dad, regardless of whether he has new pants.
Oh, gross, Dorothy just came in with a big stinky pizza. Seriously, what do you put in a pizza to make it smell like that—sweat socks and Ben-Gay? I’m going to go hang out with Jane next door. Jane’s cool, and her room doesn’t reek of food all the time. Write soon, okay?
Much love,
Cath
P.S. Are you still a Tomato?
OCTOBER
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
October 1, 1982
Dear Cath,
I didn’t mean “WHAT?” like I had no idea you’d ever had a boyfriend or thought the idea was inconceivable, but more like, “WHAT, where the hell did that come from?” because you hadn’t mentioned any guys in your other letters, then, all of a sudden—boom, boyfriend!
Did that sentence even make sense? Could you tell that I had to stop to check how to spell “inconceivable”? Man, this letter-writing stuff is definitely not up my alley. It’s much easier to talk to someone when they’re in the same room with you. Know what I mean? And in our case, that will be very soon, thanks to the English Beat. (By the way, not to sound like an obnoxious know-it-all, but did you know that they’re just called the Beat in England? They have to call themselves the English Beat here because there was already a band from Boston called the Beat. Was that obnoxious?)
I have to admit that the “I’ve never seen you look sad before” line is a beauty. The only thing stopping me from using it is that you have to wait for a girl to look sad before you can try it out. That, or you have to hang out at places where sad girls hang out, and I have no idea where that would be. Maybe a library? Do we have a library in town? Is it that old building across from the post office where they hide all the books?
Sorry to hear about Biology. I have no advice for you about that, but just felt it was important to reference it as proof that I read the whole lette
r and didn’t skip the boring stuff.
Work is work. It’s weird, but when I was in high school, I don’t think I ever spoke with my dad for more than 10 minutes at a time, and even then it was only about the Orioles or the Colts. Now we work together all day. At first, we’d run out of things to talk about and I’d just go off somewhere and fold sweaters so it wouldn’t be too awkward. But now, when the store’s empty, we spend a lot of time just talking about things. It’s funny how little I really knew about him. I mean, I knew he was in the Navy during the Korean War, but I didn’t know he spent 18 months in a submarine. And I never knew anything about the sports he played in high school (track and lacrosse) or the women he dated before he met my mom. One was named Zelda, although I got the impression he might have been pulling my leg about her. Anyway, promise you won’t tell him that I said this, but he’s not that bad a guy. I can’t believe you stole his car in high school to take your friends bar-hopping in Baltimore. Or was that me who did that?
By the way, that definitely was your dad who bought pants at the store. I even asked my dad, and he said of course it was. Maybe your dad misunderstood when you mentioned it, or maybe he just forgot. And I did see your mom after I got your letter. She was out in the garden, so I went to say hi. She seemed fine. Really. She said she missed you and that you don’t write enough. Then she used the “F-word.” (Kidding, I’m kidding.)
I’ll try to call you in the next couple days so we can firm up the plans for my visit to Virginia, or South Carolina, or Guam, or wherever you go to school.
Talk to you soon.
Scott
P.S. Do you remember when Joe and I sang that Pretenders song at the Senior Talent Show? Give me your honest answer—do you think I should think about starting a band? I mean, I’m not bad on the guitar, and everyone liked the song we sang. I’m not saying I’m great, but it could be fun, and maybe we could play at some bars or something. And if there are some sad girls there, I could try out that line on them!
P.P.S. The Orioles are only two games behind the Brewers with three games to go! And all three games are against the Brewers at Memorial Stadium! If they can win all three, they’ll win the pennant! So it could all come down to the game Sunday afternoon. And my dad got us tickets to the game on Sunday afternoon! He’s actually going to close the store early so we can be there! Pretty cool, huh?
P.P.P.S. Are you still a Potato?
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
October 4, 1982
Dearest Scottie-Scott-Scott,
What a sweet, normal letter! Thank you. And yes, I’m still a Potato! And I will be until the day I fry. And I’m looking forward to seeing you. I’ve been a bundle of nerves, and it will be such a relief to have a friend from home to hang out with.
I can’t believe you brought up the library as a place to meet girls (and yes, that old building across from the post office is indeed a library, which you would know if I hadn’t done ALL the research for that affirmative action debate we had last year). I had been hearing rumors and stories about the main library here on campus, “the Z” (short for “the Z. Smith Reynolds Library”), like about how certain sororities and fraternities only study in a certain reading room and how you’re supposed to go to the huge rooms full of rows of books, “the stacks,” if you really need to concentrate and study, and then I also heard that people fool around in the stacks, which strikes me as gross, but whatever. I’d been too intimidated to even go to the Z because I’d been afraid of sitting in the wrong place or rounding a corner to find some couple boinking someplace where I wasn’t supposed to be.
But then yesterday, after I’d been saying how I had to study for a Biology test, Walter asked me if I want to study in the stacks with him! I didn’t know WHAT he meant, you know? But I didn’t want to be a complete dork, so I said sure, that sounds great. What a mistake that was! He saunters through the various reading rooms and up one of the many internal metal staircases to some damp, dimly lit, remote corner of what feels like an airplane hangar full of dusty books, which make me sneeze repeatedly, and I proceed to read the same paragraph over and over again without comprehending a single word because I’m such a nervous wreck. Walter meanwhile is holding court and receiving what feels like a never-ending stream of sorority girl visitors. They were amazingly polite and rude at the same time. The introductions were all the same. Blazing smile, head tilt to drape the hair over one shoulder, “Hi!”, odd blink, followed by a subtle turn to dismiss me and pour all their hormones directly onto Walter. After two or three of them, I figured out that the odd blink wasn’t actually a blink, but an amazingly quick up-down to check out just who Walter was with. It was completely disconcerting, and I had to claim to be tired so I could go home and stay up for several more hours to try to actually, you know, study. I still couldn’t really concentrate, though, because I was thinking, “Well, at least he didn’t try to make out with me in that gross place.” And then I thought, “But is that because I didn’t fit in with those girls, or because he obviously likes one of them better, or did he go off and fool around with one of them when he said he went to the bathroom?” which, yes, I know is ridiculous, but you get my point!
BORING PARAGRAPH ALERT! Needless to say, the Biology test did not go well. On the upside, I’m doing pretty well in everything else.
Getting back to your letter, yes, I definitely think you should start a band! You and Joe were great doing “Kid” at the Senior Talent Show. (You didn’t think I’d remember the name of the song, did you?) And I think you’d have fun. Whenever there’s a band at a party here, the girls basically just argue about who’s the sexiest guy in the band. And the singers sometimes change the lyrics to flirt with the girls in front of everyone, which they LOVE, so yeah, I think that’s a great idea, and I’m sure you’ll meet lots of girls that way. Plus, you’ll know right away that you have at least one thing in common, which is that you’d both think that you’re pretty sexy. Ha ha!
Thank you for telling me about seeing my mom in the garden. Can I assume she was planting her fall pansies? She always says that seeing their faces looking up at her makes her happy, and it makes me happy to think of her enjoying those simple things again. I’ll try to write her more often. It’s a little difficult because I can’t be totally honest with her about everything that goes on here, but please tell her that I’m thinking of her and that I miss her a lot. And please don’t tell her that Walter took me down to the stacks, even though nothing happened!
I’m glad things are getting easier between you and your dad. You can tell me more about it on your visit. I’m enclosing a map of the campus with my dorm circled so you can find it. Please note that it’s in NORTH CAROLINA. The campus is really beautiful and I know you are going to love it here! I can’t wait to see you. We’ll have to take lots of walks to get away from Dorothy, and I want us to hang out with Jane. She’s really my best girlfriend here.
Before I forget, you’re going to have to tell everyone here about Donnie Dibsie’s “We Will Always Be Tornadoes” graduation speech because half the people here don’t get it and the other half think I’m making it up! Who could make THAT up? Mark Twain couldn’t have made that up! (Mark Twain wrote a bunch of books you were supposed to read in high school.)
Say “hi” to your mom and dad (no head tilt required).
Much love from the girl who did not steal your dad’s car,
Cath
P.S. Sorry to hear about the Orioles. I read in the paper about the last game of the season. 10–2, huh? And Jim Palmer gave up a bunch of homers. Hope you and your dad aren’t too disappointed, but it must have been really exciting to see them get so close again.
P.P.S. Jim Palmer’s the cute one in the Hanes underwear ads, right?
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
October 7, 1982
Dear Cath,
Depending on how fas
t the mail is, you may or may not get this letter before I see you on Saturday. Did you say your school is in North Carolina or South Carolina? I’ll flip a coin.
I’m looking forward to visiting. I’ve even been practicing Donnie Dipshit’s dipshitty graduation speech. “No matter where we go, no matter what we do, whether we are successes or failures, whether we change the world or only change our little piece of it, there is one thing no one will ever be able to take away from us, one thing that will bind us together for eternity—we are the East Bloomfield High School Tornadoes, Class of 1982. And we will always be Tornadoes!” Pretty good, huh?
My parents are giving me fifty bucks to take you out to dinner. They may or may not want you to sign a sworn statement confirming that I in fact took you out to dinner with the money. If I show up Saturday with a notary public, I hope you’ll understand why.
I don’t know what to say about that experience you had in the library with Walter and the sorority girls. It seems strange to me, but I have no idea how sorority girls act. I only know what sorority girls are because I saw Animal House half a dozen times. (They’re pretty, blond, big-chested girls who wear tight sweaters, right? I’m joking, but if I’m right, I hope you’ll have some time to give me a tour of some of the sorority houses during my visit. Or maybe just drop me off.) Anyway, I’m not very good at giving advice, and you haven’t asked for my advice, but, if you did, I’d suggest you just ask Walter what the heck that library thing was all about. (Were there too many commas in that sentence? It feels like there were too many, doesn’t it?)
I talked with Joe, and he’s definitely interested in starting a band with me. We’ve decided that I’m going to play lead guitar and be the lead singer, and he’s going to play rhythm guitar and sing the backup vocals. There’s a guy he works with at the supermarket who plays the bass, so we’re going to give him a tryout. As for the drums, the only person we can think of who plays the drums is … your old boyfriend Todd Wilkerson. We haven’t asked him if he’s interested in joining our band yet because I told Joe I wanted to run it by you first. If you have a problem with it, just let me know. But he’s a pretty good drummer, and he has a van.