by Bert Murray
I grimaced. “No. Mom, we’re fine.” I couldn’t believe Dad had embarrassed me in front of Jasmine. I was totally pissed.
To my surprise, Dad stood and calmly helped Jasmine put on her brown cardigan.
“Thank you very much for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Preston,” said Jasmine.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Mom.” I ushered Jasmine to the door. I ignored Dad.
Once outside, Jasmine took my hand and held it in hers.
I looked down at my shoes. “I’m sorry you had to sit through that. My dad is really obnoxious.”
“Don’t worry about it. Don’t let him get to you. Everyone has differences with their parents. Just think about me.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that I always hope that things will be different between my dad and me. And every time, I’m disappointed when they’re not.”
“He can’t tell you what to study. Do what will make you happy.”
“But he pays my tuition.”
We walked a couple of feet in silence, still holding hands.
“Your mom seems very sweet,” said Jasmine.
“Wait till you try her cookies.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t want to gain any more weight.”
“You can afford to eat one or two.”
Dad depressed me every time I saw him. And he left me with a shitload of doubt. What scared me more than anything was that sometimes I wondered if he was right about everything. Maybe I was too easy on myself. Maybe I took the easy way out. Dad never seemed to regret any of his decisions. But I was always second-guessing myself.
I was sorry Jasmine had seen me fight with Dad. It didn’t look good. You weren’t supposed to wash your dirty laundry in front of your girlfriend, right? The dinner was a huge miscalculation. It was the last time I would have Jasmine hang out with my parents.
24.
MOM AND DAD left for home after brunch. Jasmine was studying for her economics class. I was still feeling rotten. I needed to get my mind off Dad, so I called Karl.
We met 10 minutes later in front of the gym. Madonna’s Material Girl was blasting out of the speakers that were attached at three spots where the walls met the ceiling. I closed my ears. It was Top 40 pop. Not my music.
“So, buddy, how did dinner with your parents go?” asked Karl.
I bent to tie the laces on my sneakers. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I figured it wouldn’t be a party.” Karl smirked. “That bad, huh?”
“My dad was difficult. Not unusual for him, as you know. At least Jasmine was there. She made it a little easier.”
Karl tapped me on the shoulder. “Your Dad’s gone now. Let it go. You need to get psyched up for the workout.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I need to focus.”
“Tell me more about Jasmine. She’s good in the sack, isn’t she? She seems like she would be.”
I looked around to see whether anyone had heard him. I didn’t like where this was headed. This was the side of Karl I couldn’t stand. I wasn’t about to tell him anything about what happened under the covers. “I’ve told you, Jasmine’s a great girl all around. But what’s up with you? I saw you talking to Tracy Parker the other night at the Campus Pub. Are you guys dating?”
“Dating? That’s a laugh. Don’t be ridiculous. Tracy has blown most everyone on the football team.”
“You included?”
“What do you think?” Karl raised his eyebrows. “I’m always first in line. So come on, don’t change the subject. Give me some details. What is Jasmine like in bed?”
“That’s none of your business.”
We walked over to the bench press.
“Buddy, she’s got you pussy-whipped,” Karl said, pretending to crack a whip.
There was a mirrored wall behind the bench press. I looked at myself in the mirror carefully. My chest was getting bigger, and it was because of Karl. I owed him for that. He’d pushed me and pushed me. He got me to take lifting seriously.
“Stop talking and help me put on the 45’s.”
Karl whispered. “Pussy-whipped. Pussy-whipped. Pussy-whipped.” He laughed out loud.
I sighed. “I’m glad you find yourself so amusing.” Sometimes he could be such an asshole. He never knew when to stop.
Karl grinned. “Oh, come on, buddy, don’t be so damn sensitive.”
“Gimme a lift.” I gripped the bar tightly and Karl lowered it. I lifted it with a lot of effort. One hundred and thirty five felt heavy today.
“Good job,” said Karl.
I inhaled as I lowered the bar to my chest. Jasmine’s body floated through my mind. I wanted to be caressing her. Running my hands down her shoulders, back and ass. I exhaled as I pushed the bar up again. I told myself I would lose all of this if I didn’t get the weight up.
“Six. Keep going, buddy,” said Karl.
I kept pushing the bar up even though it felt so damn heavy.
“And 10,” said Karl.
It was Karl’s turn. We added 25 pounds on each side.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Gimme a second.”
I looked around the workout room, which was painted the Elerby colors, green and white. There was a floor-to-ceiling gorilla, our mascot, drawn on the wall next to the water fountain. The room smelled like sweat, and all the benches were sticky. They probably hadn’t been cleaned in weeks.
“OK. I’m ready, buddy,” said Karl.
I lowered the bar for him.
“Come on, Karl,” I said.
I saw the blood rush to his forehead, and a vein popped up as he strained to lift the bar. His face had determination written all over it. Karl, who never went to church, believed his body was his temple. He ran six miles every other day and worked out every day. Working out was his religion. He kept a notebook with a record of all the weight exercises he completed during each workout session.
“And 10,” Karl grunted as he placed the bar back on the rack.
Two guys walked past the bench. They slowed down once they noticed Karl.
“Keep it up, Karl! Stanton State doesn’t stand a chance against you this weekend,” one guy said.
“Kick their asses!” yelled the second guy.
“Hell yeah!” said Karl, high-fiving the guys.
Wherever he went, everybody made a fuss. And Karl loved it. Why not? He was a big man on campus. Sometimes I felt envious. But I had Jasmine and my music and we had our own world together. Nothing else mattered. She was cool. And she was mine.
We took the 25’s off and put on a couple of 10’s on top of the 45’s. I lay on the bench again. Karl gave me a liftoff. I struggled.
“Come on, buddy,” said Karl. “You got it.”
I pushed.
“Come on, man!”
My arms felt like spaghetti. I was afraid I was going to wimp out before I finished lifting the bar 10 times. I pushed and pushed again.
“Don’t give up!”
Karl always made me try harder. He never gave in. He had the determination of a pit bull.
“Shit,” I grunted, struggling to push it up.
The weight felt so fucking heavy.
“Come on, man! Push!”
Sweat ran down my face, and my hands shook. I was completely exhausted. I thought I was going to pass out.
“Ten,” said Karl, helping me put the bar back on the rack.
“I can’t believe I just did 10 reps of 155.” I felt as if I was finally getting strong. Nowhere as strong as Karl, but a lot stronger than I’d ever been. And that made me feel fantastic.
“Good job.” Karl slapped me on the back. “You’re really making progress.”
“Remember when I started lifting with you freshman year? I could only do about 105.”
“Yeah, you’re really heading in the right direction. It’s all about putting your mind to something and seeing things through. You just can’t give up. That’s the key.”
I sat up. Karl was right—it was the key t
o life, not just the weight room. I wiped the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. I wiped my hand on the side of my shorts. “I’m really thirsty. Let’s get some water,” I said.
We walked past the row of benches toward the water fountain.
“Can I give you some other advice? You gotta back off from Jasmine. Do it. It’s for your own good,” said Karl.
I stretched out my arms as I walked. “What the hell are you talking about?” I was furious with him. I stared at him. “Are you crazy?”
“Listen, take it easy. I’m just trying to help. She’ll lose interest in you if you come on too strong.”
“Thanks, but I don’t remember asking for your advice.”
“You didn’t ask. But you need it. I’m serious. You have to keep her wanting you more than you want her.
“I don’t play games,” I said, leaning down to drink from the water fountain.
“You really don’t get chicks, do you?” Karl shook his head. “It’s all just a game. What else is there? Have your fun with her, but don’t let her into the driver’s seat. Remember, nice guys finish last.”
“Karl, you could never understand what Jasmine and I have. So don’t even try to give me advice. We love each other.”
Karl snickered. “You love each other? Do you have to be such a sucker? What makes you think Jasmine loves you? You shouldn’t trust chicks so quickly. And anyway, Colin, love is the dirtiest game of all. You know what they say: All’s fair in love or war.”
Karl was the king of one-night stands. He had never been in love. What the hell did he know? I’d be a fool to trust his ideas.
But then again, maybe I was getting ahead of myself, ahead of Jasmine anyway. Maybe I wanted her too badly. Was I too nice to her? And what does too nice mean anyway?
Could Karl be right? Girls definitely wanted him. It was weird. He had something. I couldn’t figure it out. Girls treated him with such respect. And he showed them none.
25.
IT WAS BAD enough hearing him tell me what to do about Jasmine, but Karl got a lot more annoying after he scored the winning touchdown against Stanton State with only two minutes left in the game. All I heard was football and how he hoped to become starting quarterback next year. I was happy for him, but he was getting on my nerves.
I started to spend more time talking rock music with Chester. He was the exact opposite of Karl. Chester was opening up to me, and having me around seemed to make him more confident. I felt good about that. But I didn’t see him as much as I would have liked, because Jasmine couldn’t deal with him. She thought Chester was a total freak.
I’d told Chester to meet me Wednesday night at the Campus Pub so I could introduce him to Susan. I hoped he’d have the guts to leave the basement. It would be a big step for him to show up at the pub. It was the place where the most social students hung out.
I hoped that Chester wouldn’t smell and that he’d remember to shave. I’d given him one of my razors. I was relieved to see a clean-shaven Chester enter the pub at exactly the stroke of midnight.
He’d slicked back his red hair with gel and wore a crisp white T-shirt and jeans. He almost looked normal. Maybe this thing with Susan was going to work after all.
“What if she doesn’t like me?” he said.
Chester must have found some cologne somewhere; he actually smelled good.
“Don’t think like that. She’ll like you.”
He lighted a joint and began smoking. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can pull this off.”
I needed to encourage him. “Yes, you can. Just chill out, man. You look fine,” I said. Jesus, was he anxious. His hands were shaking.
“But I’ve never kissed a girl before. I’m not sure how it’s done.”
He looked like a nervous wreck. “Believe me, you’ll figure everything out. You can handle this. Trust me. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You spend so much time in the basement, you’d probably never even see her again anyway.” This wasn’t going to be an easy night for him. Poor guy. He had a hard time being out of the basement. How did he end up this way?
“OK. You’re right,” said Chester. “I’ll act like James Bond. 007. Cool. Calm. Collected.”
What a joke! Chester as Sean Connery! Not even if his life depended on it. “Just be yourself. You can’t prepare too much for a first date. You’ll make yourself crazy. You just have to wing it.”
Chester touched the large red pimple on his chin. “Susan has such big tits.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.” I worried that he might turn Susan off with a dumb remark.
“I wonder if I’ll be able to touch them tonight.”
“I guess it will depend on how you play your cards.”
“Fucking flying saucers.”
“Listen, don’t talk like this around Susan.”
“Oh, I know. Don’t worry. I won’t blow things up. It’s my nerves. I feel antsy. I should have taken a Valium.” He began picking at a different pimple.
“It’s just a date. Have fun. Don’t make such a big deal out of everything.” Sometimes I said things to Chester that I might be saying to myself.
“I need to check my zits,” Chester said. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
While he was in the men’s room, I pushed my way past a group of drunken frat guys screaming along with AC/DC’s Back in Black. I took a 10 out of my wallet and held it up to catch the attention of one of the bartenders. A petite redhead in a black tube top and skirt leaned over the bar to get my order. She had a yin-yang tattoo on top of her right breast. I showed a fake ID and ordered myself a Beck’s. Liz, the girl I’d danced with at the party at Big Ty’s fraternity, appeared out of nowhere and touched my arm.
“Hey, stranger, how are you?” she asked.
I stared at her long, crimped brown hair and blue eyes. I remembered how hard I’d gotten dancing with her the night of the brawl.
“Hi, Liz. What’s up? Like the hair,” I said.
“Oh, thanks.” She self-consciously smoothed down the sides of it. “Who are you here with?”
“A guy from my dorm. You?”
Liz twirled the ends of her hair around a finger. “A sorority sister. I broke up with Steve two weeks ago.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know how to react. The guy was such an asshole. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Can I get you a beer?” she asked.
“Not tonight. But maybe we could hang out some other time. Although my girlfriend probably wouldn’t like that.”
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” she said, looking disappointed.
“Yeah. Jasmine.”
“Jasmine from California?”
“Yeah.”
“I heard she’s a vegan. Are you into that health stuff, too?”
“No, I love Whoppers and fries.”
“Me, too. I don’t know why anyone would choose to give up meat.”
I looked over Liz’s shoulder and saw that Susan had arrived. “I’m sorry, Liz, I gotta go. My other friend just walked in.”
“OK, see you around,” she said.
26.
“HEY, COLIN,” SAID Susan, craning her neck, looking around the Campus Pub. “Where’s your friend Chester?”
“In the men’s room. He’ll be right back.”
Susan wore a black lace dress, a large silver crucifix around her neck and lace gloves with the fingertips cut off. She’d lined her eyes with black eyeliner and wore black lipstick and black nail polish. She was short and had long black hair, Spock ears, brown eyes and an oval face.
I wondered whether two lost souls like Chester and Susan could really work out. I was hoping I wouldn’t be sorry I was introducing them. The one thing they had going for them was that they both were very smart. Chester always surprised me with his quick mind, and Susan usually had something interesting to say in American history class.
“There he is,” I said, pointing to Chester as he approached. “Remember what I sa
id. He’s really shy.”
“I can handle him. Trust me.” She put her hand on my arm for a second and smiled.
The three of us sat at one of the round wooden tables in the corner. Neither Chester nor Susan said anything to each other for a few minutes. They talked to me but not to each other. I was getting worried. I had to get things rolling somehow.
“Isn’t it interesting that we all live in Livingston and you two have never met?” I said.
“That’s because I’m always hanging out in the base—” said Chester before I quickly cut him off.
“You guys have so much in common I thought you should meet,” I said.
“What do we have in common?” asked Chester.
“For starters, you both love music,” I said.
It was dark, but I could see that Chester’s hands were still shaking.
Susan stared straight at Chester. “I like Siouxsie & the Banshees.”
“I’ve heard of them. They’re Goth,” said Chester, staring up at the ceiling and lighting another joint.
“What kind of music do you like?” she asked.
“I love Pink Floyd,” said Chester, puffing on his joint. “The Wall is my favorite album of all time. I listen to it over and over. Makes me feel better. I know the lyrics to every song by heart.”
The waitress came by and took our order. There was silence again. I thought I’d better say something. “Another thing you have in common is that you both love history.”
“Really? You like history?” Chester asked Susan and picked at one of his pimples. “I’m taking a French history class.”
“Yeah, I’m taking two history classes this semester. I’m in American history with Colin. And I’m also taking professor Pascal’s class, which focuses on the history of racism. It’s fascinating. It covers slavery, the Indians, everything. I think I have a crush on professor Pascal. He’s French,” said Susan.
“Napoleon was French!” said Chester.
“Chester, chill,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth.
I was afraid his Napoleon bit would screw things up.
“Yes, Napoleon brought the ideals of fraternity, liberty and equality to all of Europe,” said Susan.
