A Life On College Hill

by Lawrence F. Dooling

  I arrived at the sorority house and was relieved to find Meghan, alone, on the porch. All dressed up for the dance, she was a vision. She saw me approaching and smiled ear to ear. It was all I could do to stand. She took her time admiring the flowers, which gave me time to regain function in my legs.

  When I recovered enough to speak, I said, “Meg, you . . . look . . . gorgeous!”

  I was embarrassed as soon as I said it. The words came out of my mouth somewhere between a whisper and a gasp.

  She appeared more embarrassed to have received the compliment. She smacked me on the shoulder and looked down at her feet.

  She looked back up at me and said, “Thank you, I was just about to say you look exceptionally handsome this evening.”

  “Meghan, you know it’s a sin to lie,” I replied.

  We walked up to the porch, where she pinned a boutonniere on my jacket. One of the chaperones was lining up couples for photos. I wasn’t feeling exceptionally photogenic but Meghan insisted. After our picture was taken, Meghan excused herself to talk with one of her sisters. Meghan was on the planning committee, and they were still ironing out details. The chaperone remarked that we made a lovely couple. Of course, she said that to every couple that she photographed.

  I whispered back in reply, “We’re just friends.”

  I felt a sharp slap on the back and heard a familiar voice, “Duffer, you hound dog! You are the mystery date!”

  It could only have been TM. I looked at him for an explanation.

  As we shook hands, he said, “Everyone has been trying to figure out who Meghan would ask to the dance. Each of us threw five bucks into a pool, and you just won me the jackpot!”

  Incredulous, I asked, “What would have made you bet on me?”

  He looked like the cat that ate the canary. “Let’s just say I played a hunch.”

  TM did some quick calculations as only he could.

  “Meghan Mallory is easily top ten. Not just in her class, I’m talking the entire school. She is top ten for sure. When you consider how sweet she is, I’d put her in the top five. Duffer, you are my hero!” He added, “I never understood what she saw in Eric.”

  I noticed Eric was nowhere to be found. “Eric didn’t get an invite for tonight?”

  TM replied, “Not a chance! The sorority president laid down the law. Anyone who invited him would be shunned.”

  I asked, “Are you sure you want to be seen talking to me? I don’t imagine I’m going to be very popular with your frat brothers.”

  TM replied, “Don’t expect any of them to buy you a beer, but there won’t be any trouble. Their dates will keep them in line. To be honest, Eric isn’t even all that popular in the frat.”

  The chartered bus arrived, and couples lined up to board. Meghan was still busy chatting, and we were one of the last in line. I followed her as she made her way to the open seats in the back of the bus. If I’d ever doubted what awkward felt like, I knew then. Everyone on the bus stared at me as I passed. Admittedly, my face was still something to be stared at, but they all looked at me as if I was an alien life form.

  Meghan didn’t seem to notice or care. We found an open seat and she turned to the girl behind us to continue her conversation. TM and his date were the last down the aisle. He smiled at me, held up five fingers, and mouthed the words “top five!”

  I took my escort duties seriously as Meghan moved from table to table. Standing dutifully at her side, I smiled politely each time she introduced me as her date. I spoke when I was spoken to and ignored the whispers I heard as we left each table.

  “Who is he?” “Where did she meet him?” “What happened to his face?”

  The DJ played mostly up-tempo songs, the kind of music that requires you to fast dance. Every so often the girls would coax their dates out onto the floor. I didn’t mind dancing, but I couldn’t hold a candle to Meghan. Few people could. I glanced around at the competition and concluded I was no more awkward than any of the other guys.

  Fortunately for the guys, the girls mostly danced with each other. Usually in small groups but once all together when they did a line dance. They must have practiced because no one missed a step.

  Most of the guys at the dance were in one frat or another, and all the guys at my table were Greek. They weren’t Sigmas and they were friendly enough, but I still didn’t feel like I fit in. I recognized a few independents, like myself, from some of my classes. While Meghan was up dancing with the girls, I exchanged a couple of hellos and engaged in a little small talk.

  Generally, I tried to stay out of the way, but mostly, I was just trying to keep both feet on the ground. Looking around the hall I realized that TM’s ranking of Meghan was accurate. There wasn’t a guy in the room who wouldn’t want to go out with my date. Now that everyone knew she was available, there were probably fifty guys working up the nerve to ask her out.

  It was beginning to dawn on me that I had made a monstrous mistake accepting her invitation. She was introducing me as her date, not her boyfriend. There was a huge difference in the titles. I was just helping her out of a jam until she had time to review her options. I knew in a week or two she’d walk into Chet’s with her new beau. She’d probably introduce me as a good friend and a really nice guy. In reality, that’s all I would ever be to her. Afterward, they would walk away, arm in arm, and I would have to wash their dirty dishes.

  No, I wouldn’t be able to deal with that after being her date. In the morning, I would have to return Chet’s tie and give him my notice. I was trying to figure out how to tell Chet I was quitting when the DJ interrupted.

  “Ladies, it’s time to find that special guy and move to the dance floor for the final song of the evening.”

  A slow song began to play. Meghan took me by the hand and led me to the center of the dance floor. She turned quickly and smacked me right between the eyes with that smile. It might as well have been a two by four. Yeah, I froze two agonizing steps short of her embrace.

  She giggled because she finally figured it out. Meghan took one step toward me and held out her arms. I managed one step toward her and wrapped my arms around the most beautiful girl I had ever known. She leaned in close and put her head on my shoulder.

  My fate was sealed, I was a dead man! This could only end badly for me. There was no way a girl like Meghan Mallory would ever want to be more than friends.

  For the first time in my life, I decided to live in the moment. There would be ample time, in the morning, to ponder my demise. I could still hear the whispers while we moved in slow circles around the dance floor. People kept staring, but I didn’t care. I was dancing with the prettiest girl in the room, and her head was resting on my shoulder like it was happy to be there.

  The thirty-minute bus ride back to town seemed like three. The goodbye weighed heavily on my mind. I expected it to be embarrassing for both of us. I knew Meghan would tell me she had a nice time. A kiss on the cheek was not out of the question. When it came time to part, she’d tell me to take care of myself and then walk away. There was no reason to expect anything more, and it was foolish to think there might be.

  The bus pulled up to the sorority house, and the driver set the parking brake. Meghan had been holding my hand and resting her head on my shoulder the entire ride. She must have been exhausted.

  Meghan sat up in her seat and waited until nearly everyone else had disembarked. I appreciated that she wasn’t going to embarrass me in front of everyone. She had a serious look on her face, and I knew she was formulating the goodbye speech. It started off exactly as I had anticipated.

  She smiled at me and said, “Thanks, Randy, I had the best time.”

  Then Meghan leaned over and whispered, “I called you by the right name this time, you have no excuse not to kiss me.” That was followed by a kiss far surpassing the one that kept me awake the previous Saturday night.

 
When she finished, Meghan pulled away and asked, “What time are you picking me up for breakfast?”

  Sunday breakfast became a routine for us. Whenever I had the morning off, I was cooking for two. We took walks down by the river and even tried ice skating on the park pond. We’d go bar hopping on occasion, but most Saturday nights she came over to my apartment to study.

  She was having as much trouble as I was keeping up with schoolwork. Cheering took up as much of her time as work took of mine. Then, one Saturday night, we were so caught up in homework, we lost track of the time. When she realized it was two o’clock in the morning, she grabbed my sweat suit out of the closet and took it into the bathroom.

  She came out of the bathroom wearing the sweat suit and said, “I might as well stay, you’ll only have to come get me for breakfast in a couple of hours.”

  She climbed into bed, and I looked at the sofa.

  She smiled and said, “Randy, you don’t have to sleep on the sofa tonight.”

  Top of the Third Inning

  It had been a long, lonely, summer without her. I hadn’t seen Meghan since she invited me to her parents’ house, in Williamsport, for Memorial Day weekend. Her family lived in what seemed like a mansion to me. Their property was as big as the entire block I grew up on.

  They had a cookout for family and friends that holiday weekend. Incredibly, her dad invited Eric to attend. It seemed her dad was still fond of Eric, even if Meghan wasn’t. And it was obvious Eric was still fond of Meghan: Every time I turned around, he was trying to catch her eye.

  The entire weekend was one long anxiety attack. Meeting her parents for the first time was awkward at best. When I met her mom, it became obvious where Meghan got her good looks. But I just couldn’t get a good read on her. She was gracious but never friendly. I got the impression she was tolerating me for her daughter’s sake.

  Meghan’s dad could best be described as intimidating! Nick Mallory was a linebacker in college and looked like he could still play the position. That linebacker mentality served him well in the business world. The largest farm equipment franchise in Central Pennsylvania bore his name.

  He was the prototypical, high-powered business executive. Even at home, the telephone was never far from his ear. When he wasn’t making a business deal, he was ripping one of his employees a new one. It seemed to me he was paying the price for his success. Antacid tablets were as close as the phone, and he chewed them like they were candy.

  He always called me Randal. I despised being called Randal! No one had used that name since the nuns in grade school. It became obvious he didn’t like me much when he pulled me aside during my visit. He let me know his daughter deserved better than a busboy. I told him it was difficult to disagree. The busboy job was just getting me through college. I would be an accountant when I graduated. He said he would be happy to see more of me after I had made more of myself.

  When he asked me about the scars on my face, I told him I got spiked sliding head first in a baseball game. Then I asked him if he considered what his daughter wanted. He said she was not mature enough to know what was best. I like to think he respected that I stood up for myself.

  That summer I tried calling Meghan from a pay phone several times. Her dad always answered and told me she wasn’t home. She only got a few of the dozen letters I wrote. If she didn’t get to the mailbox first, they disappeared.

  My summer of purgatory was rapidly coming to an end, and my senior year of college was about to begin. I remember answering a knock at my apartment door and being ecstatic to see Meghan’s smiling face. It would take some time before I found out if heaven or hell awaited. We quickly caught up with each other’s summer experiences. I made sure she knew how hard I tried to keep in touch. She knew what her dad had done but was confident he would come around, sooner or later. Then she talked about the semester to come.

  “The next couple of months are going to be tough.” she said. “My classes are bad enough. Cheering is a huge commitment between practice, travel, and games. We’re just going to have to make time for each other when we can.”

  “Let’s start tomorrow with breakfast,” I said. “What time should I pick you up?” She smiled as only she could.

  Two months later, in an ironic twist of fate, the weather, my state of mind, and future prospects aligned in perfect unison. All three were completely miserable. I envied the weather because it would eventually improve. I was alone, as usual, on a Saturday night. Midterms had just been posted, and my grades still weren’t good enough. Not good enough seemed to be a common theme in my life. I was seriously beginning to question whether I would ever accomplish anything.

  It felt like I was walking around in a fog. What little sleep I managed was fitful. The knot in my stomach had destroyed my appetite. I guess I should have been grateful to be saving money on groceries. I was going to college full time, working forty hours a week, and trying to maintain a relationship with a girlfriend. Something had to suffer. Sleep was the first casualty, grades the second. The girlfriend situation was about to resolve itself.

  Normally, I would have walked to the bar, but fate had been pissing on me for twenty-one years. I didn’t see the need to let Mother Nature pile on. If I drank too much, I could always leave my car at the bar and walk home. Drinking too much was my objective that night.

  The gloomy drizzle turned to a steady rain as I reached Memorial Square and the Civil War monument. I tried not to remember the night Meghan and I sat here in the rain the previous year. The monument is an impressive stone column topped with the statue of a Union soldier. Rifle poised, bayonet fixed, he is perpetually on guard.

  Inscribed on one side of the column is a list of the battles in which the local regiment fought. On the other is a long list of the town’s sons who didn’t come home. I wondered if having your name carved in stone made up for dying young? The way my life was going, I knew I’d never accomplish enough to have my name on a monument.

  Five more blocks and I reached Will’s Bar at the north end of Main Street. I pulled into the rear parking lot and got out of the car.

  From the parking lot you could enter the downstairs bar where the townies preferred to hang out. I walked up the alley and entered the upstairs bar. College kids preferred to drink upstairs. A rarely used stairwell connected the two floors. An uneasy calm existed between the two groups. Townies needed, and resented needing, the money brought in by the college kids. College kids thought the townies lived to rain on their parade.

  Good seats at the bar were easy to come by at nine o’clock on a Saturday night. Most people would be at parties until the midnight curfew. I took a position with a good view of the television. If I appeared to be watching something, it felt less awkward. I had come to drink myself into oblivion that Saturday night. It’s not that I wanted to feel better about things. For that one night I just didn’t want to feel anything.

  Meghan had been right about the first semester of our senior year. We hadn’t gone out in almost two months. I knew from our first date that it would never last. It should have felt better to finally be right about something. We were just too different. She was one of the popular people whom everyone knew and cared about. I was anonymity personified. At times I thought I might have been invisible. Students I sat next to in class often came into Chet’s while I was working and didn’t recognize me.

  Only the formality of breaking up with Meghan remained. It had been the same routine since football season started. She’d stop by Chet’s on Thursday and ask how my week was going. Then she’d tell me it would be a busy football weekend, so she wouldn’t see me until Monday. On Monday, she’d stop by and tell me she had a hectic weekend. She would have to study all week because she was behind on her classwork. Maybe she was being truthful and maybe she wasn’t. From work, I had seen her walking up Sigma Street on Saturday nights.

  It wasn’t in my nature to be demanding, and I didn’
t feel like I owned her. If she wanted to go somewhere without me, that was her prerogative. I was determined not to show emotion. Emotion is weakness.

  Maybe I should have gotten angry and started an argument. That would have given her a reason to break up with me. At least that way it would be over. I assumed this was her polite way of breaking up. We’d just see less and less of each other until one day I’d see her with another guy. That other guy would undoubtedly be Eric.

  The football team had steamrolled through the league schedule and only needed one more win for the championship. Eric had stopped drinking and was having a career year. I read in the local paper that he was being scouted by pro teams.

  Eric played the game of his life that Saturday, and the Central Valley Titans won the league championship. After the game, everyone but me was in a partying mood. I knew Meghan would be a block from Will’s, celebrating at the Sigma house.

  The town had a curfew that put a midnight limit on house parties. After winning the championship, however, the Sigmas would thumb their nose at the curfew and party into the wee hours. They were football players, and they won the big game. Just this once, the townies would turn a blind eye to the infraction.

  I kept telling myself this would be the last bad night. As serious as she was about football, she would have to get back together with her hero. I knew she would tell me, in the morning, that we were through. One way or another it would end in the morning. If she didn’t tell me, I would tell her.

  I was pissed off when Dee sat down on the stool beside me. Dee was the one person who roamed freely between the upstairs and downstairs bars. No one knew his real name or, for that matter, anything else about him. He was an eccentric old man with long, wild, white hair. Everyone had a theory about Dee: Dee owned the bar, Dee was homeless, Dee was actually the mayor.

  Personally, I thought he was an apparition, or ghost, who haunted the place. You never saw him come in, and you never saw him leave. In all my travels, up and down Main Street, I never saw him outside the bar. Mine was one of the more bizarre theories, but Dee was a fairly bizarre character.