by Maria Herren
"Just answer the question!"
⇼
They were both incredibly excited the night of the dance. Their mothers had worked miracles with the two tomboys. Robert and Eric were picking them up separately then they were all meeting for dinner before the prom.
Eric was surprised to find how comfortable he felt in his tuxedo. The tailor had gone to extra trouble to locate one that would accommodate his height and shoulders.
He hadn't gone to any of the dances at the academy and he'd been unexpectedly excited when Charly asked him to her prom. It had been over a year since he'd seen her when he'd gone to watch her at the state volleyball championships. Her team walked away with the trophy and he'd put the picture of her standing loosely with her cocky grin in a small frame.
She answered the door before he could ring the buzzer. "Eric!" she said with delight, dragging him into the house and hugging him quickly before stepping back and executing a quick turn. "I feel so pretty!"
She twirled again in front of him with a natural feline grace that he'd never noticed before. "What d'ya think? Different, huh?"
"You look terrific, Charly. You really do!" he said with a smile.
She was pleased with the compliment and took a step backward to eye him up and down. "Well, Mr. Tyler! Don't you look splendid!
They were like two peacocks as they pranced in front of the long mirror in the hallway. "Mr. Tyler, please note my shocking display of what could almost be called cleavage!"
"Charly, take a look at the shoulders I had to squeeze into this tuxedo!" he said, taking in a deep breath to make them appear even broader.
"It doesn't look too tight!" she said, teasingly.
"Yeah, well neither does the front of your dress!"
"Okay, I get it," she said, laughing. "My ego's under control. How about yours?"
''Nope. I've got all night to remember that I'm the escort of the prettiest girl in town."
"And the smartest."
"Got it. Anything else?"
"I'm sure I'll think of something!" she said, taking his arm, "Let's go show you to Mom and Dad. Are you ready?"
"Just lead the way, princess."
⇼
Simone felt stilted and uncomfortable when they first entered the restaurant. Even with her low heels Robert was still a few inches taller than she was and this made her very happy. However, he was just as shy as she was which made for fleeting, nervous conversation, and this made her unhappy.
She'd met Eric briefly at the volleyball championship the previous year, but with the excitement of the win she didn't remember much about him. Seeing him in the booth next to Charly was a big surprise. Eric was the most handsome man she'd ever seen.
How could I not remember THAT? she asked herself. His dark curly hair was cut short, military style, but his green eyes were sparkling with laughter. In his tuxedo he looked like a movie star.
She glanced over at her date and thought, What a lucky lady I am!
Eric stood when he saw them. "I remember your over the top grand slams at the finals last year!" he told Simone. "I didn't get a chance to congratulate you on the win! That was an exciting game!"
"Thanks!" Simone said, "It could have gone either way."
"I don't know about that," Eric countered. "The right training and the right combination of people result in the best team."
"What about luck?" Charly spoke up.
"I don't believe in luck," Eric said softly. "Everything happens for a reason."
"I believe in luck!" Robert proclaimed loudly, "Why else would I be sitting here with this beautiful girl?"
"It is a nice place to be, isn't it?" Eric smiled.
He took it upon himself to set everyone at ease and by the time they'd finished their appetizers he had everyone laughing at the stories he had to tell about life at the academy.
"So there's my buddy, Billy, in real hot water, with all of us looking on. The instructor barked, ‘Billy! Drop down and give me fifty!’ Billy dropped down and completed several, then he looked up at the instructor and said, ‘Do you want these all today, Sir?’"
Charly was wiping her eyes from laughter when the waiter came for their order. When she was through ordering Robert asked, "Was that for ALL of us?"
"No!" Simone and Eric chimed in unison.
"Well, it smells so good and I'm hungry!" Charly explained while Eric patted her on the hand.
"Don't worry about anyone, you just eat whatever you want," he smiled.
By the end of the meal Simone was feeling much better. Robert had relaxed with Eric there. The two of them had met in a martial arts class and their mutual respect was obvious.
The tension was back when they stood outside the school. Simone immediately felt clumsy and awkward. She wondered if she could feign an injury to save herself the embarrassment of getting on the dance floor.
The four of them were entranced when they entered the gym. It had been decorated so artfully that it didn't seem like any place they'd ever been before. Without asking, Robert took Simone's hand and guided her to the dance floor. Uncoordinated in her heels she stepped on his foot and stumbled backward. Immediately his arm was there to catch her.
"Why don't you just take them off?" he suggested. Terrific idea from a great guy.
It doesn't get much better, Simone thought, swaying lightly with Robert to the music.
It seemed like hours later when she saw Charly and Eric. They were gliding together so smoothly that other couples were stopping to watch. Simone watched them in wonder. "Where in the world did they learn to DO that?" Simone finally said, out loud.
"I know Eric's parents went out dancing a lot when he was on the base," Robert said. "I bet his sister's made him partner with them at home!"
It was worth it. He's really good, Simone thought to herself.
It was a beautiful but short-lived few minutes because suddenly Tommy was there. He was red in the face from bootlegged booze and anger. He'd come without a date, looking for a fight. Ready to get it done fast because maybe he could change Charly's mind about who was the best choice for her. He spun Charly around by the shoulder and began an ungainly gallop around the dance floor. There were several cheers from the onlookers that quieted quickly when Charly’s foot lashed out to trip them both. They landed in an awkward array of dress, slip, shoes and a sputtering Tommy.
The rest happened so fast that twenty minutes later there were already different versions circulating from people who'd been right there.
Simone saw Eric leaning down to help Charly up when Tommy punched him. Robert ran forward to grab Tommy and pinion his arms. Eric wiped the blood flowing from his mouth and his nose.
"Let him go," he quietly commanded.
Robert did, and Tommy couldn't decide what to do. A quiet circle was gathering around them. He felt all the eyes on him, which he was used to. He charged forward and he didn't see the danger in Eric’s eyes until it was way too late.
The slap didn't make any noise and it was so quick that it was barely visible. Tommy went down like a stone. He was confused for a few seconds, sprawled on the ground in the tight crowd of onlookers. He blundered to his feet and focused on the dark head of the jerk who'd dared to upstage him and bring Charly.
"Hey, asshole!" he called out. "You don't know who you're messing with!" Stupidly, he swung another punch.
The second slap went off like a cannon in his head.
Eric leaned down and whispered, "The ladies are ready to leave. Don't get up."
The music was loud and the crowd was starting to chatter as they walked to the door. Simone held onto Charly’s wrist and drug her along. In the parking lot Charly was fuming and hissing like a cat that had just been stepped on while Eric hung his head like the big embarrassed dog who'd done it.
"You! You idiot! I can take care of myself," Charly yelled up at him. "I don't need Mr. Muscles showing off! I ..." she sputtered for a moment then got back on track, "I had everything under control! Look! I've ripped my d
ress and dammit, Eric! You're bleeding!"
Simone could feel a smile breaking out on her face, but it was Robert who was the first to laugh. Not out loud, but in a behind the hand smothered way that he quickly turned into a coughing fit.
Which made Simone giggle.
Then they made the classic mistake of looking at each other and they were undone. They sputtered half sentences between fits of laughter.
"He was only ..."
"They look so . . ."
"I can't believe they ..."
"Did you see the look on Tommy's face when ..."
Eric snuck a look at Charly. She had a small grin on her face that quickly widened. Each time the laughter would subside one of them would look at another and it would start all over.
Finally, gasping for air, Charly asked, "Where are we going for breakfast?"
Four
The sky was still dark when Robert took her home. They sat in the driveway, both uncertain how to attempt a kiss. Then Robert asked, "Are you up for a quick game at the hoop?"
It wasn't a very aggressive game, but now on familiar territory the last of Simone's shyness vanished. When he took her hand and pulled her toward him it wasn't awkward at all.
The kiss was quick. His lips were soft. "Thanks for a really great time, Simone," he said, smiling. "Let's do it again sometime."
"That would be great," Simone smiled back.
He was gone just as the sun began to make an appearance.
Charly picked up the phone on the first ring. "So, did you kiss him?"
⇼
The two of them shared a room with a girl named Margaret their first year in college. Margaret had been the first one across the threshold so she'd arranged things exactly as she wanted them to be. While they unpacked their bags Margaret stared at them suspiciously through the thickest glasses Simone had ever seen.
Charly was in front of the bookshelf that was already packed tightly with Margaret's books. "Is it okay with you if we put a few of our books on this shelf, Margaret?" she asked.
Margaret sniffed the air. "I don't mean to sound ridiculous, but they smell dusty. I'm allergic to dust. If there's too much dust I could have a reaction and end up in the hospital. No, I don't mind if you put them on the shelf but would you please have the courtesy to clean them first?"
Simone stared at her. "I need to be clear on this. Would you like us to wipe off the covers or are you talking page by page?"
"Oh, please!" Margaret said, rolling her eyes. "So is that a yes or a no?"
"Well, page by page of course!" Margaret sniffed the air again.
"Of COURSE, Marge!" Simone said, dramatically. "I'll keep mine in my room, thanks anyway."
"Me, too, Marge!" Charly piped in cheerfully.
"It's Mar-ga-ret. Three full syllables, ladies."
Simone was plenty pissed off. "Got it, Margie. I'm Si-mone. Like ‘Simon and the pieman’ but very different. And I don't like pie. And I'm starting off not liking you," she said, turning on her heel and walking into her room.
The bathroom was another ode to Margaret. They stood together in disbelief while she went through her litany of expectations.
"I take a bath every evening from seven to eight o'clock. My toothbrush is always on the left side of the sink. I require only white, fragrance-free toilet paper as I'm allergic and may go to the hospital. Please clean out the bathroom after every use, as well as any residuals in the sink basin."
They stepped back as she squeezed between them in the doorway, shutting the door to her room behind her.
"Wow. Why wait?" Charly said, loudly, "Let's just put her in the hospital now!" Charly offered to buy a pizza for their first evening together.
"Thank you," Margaret said, "but no meat or cheese. And no hot peppers. They make me sneeze."
⇼
Charly and Simone munched slowly on the totally tasteless pizza and listened to Margaret.
"I know that the two of you are coming from a small town," she was saying, with a dab of tomato sauce on her chin, "so I'm sure I seem, I don't know... My father would probably say I'm more worldly than you. That means I've been a lot of places you haven't been." She hurried to explain. "You've probably heard of my father. Dr. Richard Levitus? He's pretty well known around the world. He's been on television a lot, like when he saved that young girl's life last year in Minnesota..."
"I know who you're talking about!" Simone interrupted. "He's a neurosurgeon, isn't he? I saw last year on 20/20 where he travels around the world helping children born with deformities."
"Yes, that's Father," Margaret answered. "That show actually aired closer to two years ago. Please don't take offense, but in small farming communities like yours it's probably more important to keep track of planting seasons and harvesting times."
Simone started to stand up and Charly grabbed her arm.
"This girl is NOT for real!" Simone hollered, "Someone pinch me because I need to get out of this one, for real; real fast!"
"What did you say?" Margaret yelled back, "I was just showing some interest in your culture!"
"Maybe she was, Simone," Charly said, "Give her the benefit."
"How old are you, Margaret?" Simone asked.
"I turned eighteen this summer," Margaret answered.
"That's great. We're all the same age and we live on the same planet. With a lot of luck we may find something else we have in common," Simone said.
⇼
Charly shut the door of her room and stared at Simone. "She is so right about me. I grew up on that farm and I'll probably go back to it. If I hadn't gotten the scholarship there's no way I'd be here. Most of my family doesn't even WANT me to be here. It's just more chores for them without me helping out. It's different for you, with your family. I just don't believe that I belong here."
"Are you done?" Simone asked, quietly.
"I think that about covers it," Charly answered.
"Are you feeling out of your league just because her father's a doctor?"
"A world respected neurosurgeon," Charly clarified.
"You're done?" Simone asked, "Because you need to get it all out. When you're sure you're done, I do have a few things to say."
"I guess I'm scared. That makes me mad, and I guess that's all I've got to say," Charly said.
"I know," Simone replied. "What you need to be thinking about in these first days before anyone has really proven anything is that you earned your way here because you are very smart. There'll be plenty of people here that are smarter than both of us put together, but you didn't buy your way in and neither did I. We're going to have to work hard, but we can do it together, and we can have fun doing it. We're not like Margaret, the daughter who lives every day hoping that she'll run into a dust particle that'll send her to the hospital. In her dreams it's probably something that only a neurosurgeon can fix and she ends up in the hospital where her daddy works. Do you see what I'm saying?"
"Dammnnn!" Charly said. "I think I do! You're really good!" she said with surprise. "Where is this coming from? All of a sudden you're coming through with some remarkable perception! What are you going to be when you grow up? A psychologist?"
"Too soon to know," Simone said, smiling and raising her eyebrows. "Maybe I'll be a neurosurgeon."
⇼
The first day of classes was frantic. People were scurrying everywhere along the pathways. Freshman like herself, surreptitiously glancing at their maps of the university. Her first class was Italian Language and she hesitated in the doorway of the lecture hall. It seemed to have as many seats in the one room as her high school auditorium. Students were scattered here and there throughout the room, but mostly toward the back. There was one lone body seated in the front row.
After the bell rang there were several minutes of subdued voices. Several more minutes passed. Then a deep voice with a southern drawl came quietly from the very back of the room. "What is wrong with this picture?" he asked.
Everyone turned in their seats to pee
r at the shadows in the back.
"I'd like to welcome y'all here. I'm Professor Kline. It's pretty difficult to see me back here, isn't it?"
Charly could just make out his shadow where he reclined against the wall.
"I'm the type of person that likes to look another person in the eye when I talk to them. Has to do with my raising, I reckon. So I'll go to that podium and attempt to teach every one of y'all what this university requires if y'all would do me the courtesy of filling up those first fifteen rows of seats."
There was nervous laughter among the students.
"Now, some of y'all may be thinking that I should make the first move! Where I come from that's considered bad manners. Your daddies have worked hard to get y'all here and we've already wasted fifteen minutes of your valuable educations. Everybody get up and scoot to the front. NOW!" he commanded.
They did.
He was one very tall Texan as he strode down the aisle and took the podium. "Y'all may be wondering who the brave man already in the front row is. Allow me to introduce the man who's teaching me not to say ‘y'all.’ He's my graduate assistant and he's come all the way from Italy to help ‘you all’ with your Italian and me with my English. His name is Vincenzo Cabrera. He makes your tests and I grade 'em so don't bother suckin' up to him although he's better looking than a newly laid egg to a rattlesnake." He paused and put on his glasses. "How much do I owe ya', Vincenzo?"
"We agreed on five dollars for every ‘y'all’, right Professor?"
"That was the agreement, what's the damage?"
"You spoke the word ‘y'all’ seven times, sir. I'm no mathematician but I'm $35 dollars positive."
"Dammnn!" the professor swore, drawing it out long like they do in the south and reaching for his wallet. "I was using one of them as an example. Here's thirty bucks," he said, handing down the money.
Throughout the lesson the professor would stop and converse rapidly and fluidly with his graduate student. By the end of the first lesson everyone in the class had found their favorite professor.
