Waves and Light: Opposites Attract Series

by Elizabeth J. Merrill

  They both glared at me.

  “You brought her?” asked Ben. “You told me you didn’t even know her when school started.”

  Ben knows her? “I met her when she applied at the tutoring center,” I explained.

  “Look man, I don’t want to bring up a sore subject, but you need to stay away from B.D.” warned Ben.

  “Yeah,” Wang moved in behind Ben.

  “Remember how things went down with Brenda.”

  “Yeah,” Wang echoed Ben like a Greek chorus.

  “Not that’s any of your business, but I wasn’t planning to get involved. We both live at Jester, and I was just being nice bringing her. She’s not my type.”

  They both narrowed their eyes at me. Ben waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. She just doesn’t deserve the whole Slade treatment.” He used air quotes around Slade treatment.

  “Whatever that is, she won’t get it. She’s like a little sister to me. We were on a swim team together as kids. I just didn’t realize it was her because she didn’t go by B.D. then and our families had lost touch when they moved out of the neighborhood, but it would almost be incestuous.”

  “You know what B.D. stands for?” They both looked at me expectantly.

  “Yes, and I promised I wouldn’t tell. If you want to find out what B.D. stands for, you’ll have to get it out of her.”

  “You’re bluffing. You don’t know. And she’s everyone’s type. If she had a brother, she would still be his type. And if you know her actual name, prove it!” They egged me on.

  “I know. And I’ll protect the secret with my very life,” I stated solemnly with my hand over my heart.

  “You’re lying. You don’t know her name, and you have every intention of giving her the ‘ole Slade treatment. Look what happened to Brenda. She ended up in some twisted, pseudo couple with Tyson for god sakes.”

  I leaned into Ben and whispered. “I know, what’s up with that?”

  “It’s weird,” commented Ben.

  “They’re trying too hard,” agreed Wang.

  “Catch you later. I’m off to watch Jason play dungeon master. Why is he the DM? His scenarios are so…predictable.” I held up my fist and bumped Ben then Wang as I made my way to the D&D game.

  As I walked away, I heard Ben mumble, “You knew Slade would get his hooks in her. We should have warned her.”

  “Fucking Slade.” Wang agreed.

  *

  After standing around watching Jason bore every one with his tedious D&D game and catching up with all the good gossip, I decided to check up on B.D.

  After wandering around the house, I found her in the “library.” The library was a bedroom furnished with a cinder block bookcase full of books—mostly textbooks—and a large partner’s desk that had been pushed in front of the windows to make space in the middle of the room. I found B.D. sitting on the worn floor across the Risk board from Ian. Clearly they had already done in the other players. Tyson was a jerk to set B.D. up in a game with Ian. Ian always won.

  I leaned against a wall and tried to figure out what was going on with the game. B.D. rolled the dice and clapped and let out an evil sounding chuckle. She started exchanging red men with blue men, but Ian stopped her.

  “That’s it. I’m out. There’s no point in dragging out the misery,” conceded Ian.

  “Sure. I don’t mind taking all night to grind you into the dust.”

  “I’m ground enough.” He reached across the board to shake B.D.’s hand. “Good game. I haven’t lost in six months.”

  “I just got lucky. Everyone loses sometime.”

  “I bet you don’t, “ Ian winked his baby blues at B.D., while he started putting the pieces in the box.

  “I haven’t played in a while,” offered B.D.

  “Maybe you would consider a rematch…at my place…later tonight,” probed Ian.

  “Well…I came with David, but I’m sure…”

  “He’s ready to take you home.” I cut her off.

  “You’re ready to go?” she asked.

  “Sure, we don’t want to stay too late. You promised to help me with Baker’s homework tomorrow after we went for a swim.”

  “Of course, we had planned that. I guess we don’t want to stay out too late. “

  I glanced at my watch. “Yeah, it’s almost one. Enough fun for tonight. You need your beauty sleep.”

  “I guess…”

  I grabbed her by the arm and helped her up. “Night Ian,” I said definitively.

  “Night, maybe we can play next week,” she gave Ian a little finger wave as I led her from the room.

  We ran into Brenda and Tyson in the front room. Brenda’s hand was resting on Tyson’s crooked arm like they were going for a stroll in an eighteenth-century period piece movie.

  “Heading out so soon?” asked Tyson.

  “Yeah, it’s getting late and we’ve got stuff to do tomorrow,” I explained.

  “I guess,” replied B.D. as she looked wistfully in the direction of the “library,” but then focused on Tyson and Brenda.

  She cooed, “Thanks for inviting me. This was the best party I’ve been to in years. It was great the way you set-up all the games and the snacks were stellar. And your house is so nice. I hope you have another party soon.”

  Brenda and Tyson beamed like B.D. had just complimented their first born. “Thanks, I’m sure we will.”

  Back in the car, I felt obligated to warn B.D. off Ian.

  “I don’t think you should hang out with Ian too much. He’s got a bit of a love ‘em and leave ‘em reputation. And that British accent is totally fake. He spent three weeks at some Oxford summer program for aspiring astro-physicists—like there are going to be any jobs for those guys in the future—and he came back with the silly accent.”

  “I didn’t really notice his accent. He’s a great Risk player though. At one point, if I hadn’t rolled six, I probably would have lost. And I haven’t lost in years. In high school I played Risk almost every weekend, but I haven’t found a group to play with here. I’d love to play him again.”

  B.D.’s some kind of Risk freak? Who knew? “Playing Risk with him is okay. But don’t go to his room alone. I don’t think you can trust him.”

  “Really? He seems so nice.”

  “Seems is the operative word here. He may seem nice, but he’s not nice.” Normally I wouldn’t interfere with another brother’s conquests, but B.D. was too naive to be left to her own devices. And she deserved a nice boyfriend not some faker like Ian.

  Chapter Nine

  B.D.

  I flipped on the light in my room and shrieked when a lump on Wendy’s bed moved.

  “What’s going on?” asked a sleepy, rumpled Wendy as she popped out of the lump.

  “You’re home! I thought you went to…you know…home, home this weekend.”

  “That’s next weekend. I had a day date with Troy.”

  “So how’d that go?” I asked.

  “Okay…Troy’s nice and he’s rich, but he’s…not the sharpest knife in the drawer if you know what I mean. And there’s no way he’ll become a doctor. He barely managed to pass organic chemistry. He’s not getting into med school and if he does, I feel sorry for his patients.”

  “And rich doesn’t make up for stupid anymore?

  “I guess it doesn’t,” admitted Wendy, “but it sure would be easier if it did. How was your night? You’re getting in a bit late.”

  “David took me to game night at Tyson and Brenda’s.”

  “Game night?”

  “They load the house up with games like D&D and Risk and everyone hangs out playing games and drinking beer. It was fun. And I got to play a good Risk game which I haven’t had the chance to do since I started college. Some guy named Ian almost beat me.” I couldn’t help it; I blushed when I said his name.

  “So is Ian cute too?”

  “He’s gorgeous. He has blue eyes and red hair which you know I have a thing for. He asked me to come over to
his place for a late-night rematch; I was about to take him up on it, when David showed up and reminded me that I promised to help him with his physics proofs in the morning. Then in the car he told me that Ian was a player who was sure to quote “break my heart” unquote. It’s nice that David is looking out for me, but I can take care of myself. And it’s not like he wants me.”

  “Are you sure about that? He’s starting to look a bit territorial to me.”

  “Over me? He’s gay. He’s not interested in me that way.”

  “I don’t think he’s gay. I told you. He’s a player. Really. He’s the one you need to watch out for.”

  “One, I have a hard time believing that a guy who knows who Cynthia Rowley is, is straight. I barely know who Cynthia Rowley is. Two, I’ve never seen him with a girl. Three, he’s been nothing but a gentleman around me. He hasn’t even stared at my breasts once. He’s got to be gay.”

  Wendy countered. “On the other hand, Tracy told me he dated her roommate’s older sister for one month. Worked their way through the Kama Sutra, but couldn’t manage 17, 52, and 88. And she’s a part-time yoga teacher.” Wendy paused and got a thoughtful look on her face. “Wow if Tracy’s sister can’t do all the positions, I wonder if anyone can? I tried 44 once, but pulled a muscle…Still the point is, he dropped her like a hot potato once he got bored. I think David is the one you should worry about.”

  I scoffed. “He’s gay. David’s a common name. I’m sure you have him confused with another David.”

  David

  I managed to get in fifty laps this morning, but B.D. didn’t show up for her morning routine. And now she’s not at breakfast. I’ve already got Baker’s proofs to turn in this afternoon, but I found this hilarious cat video that I know B.D. would love that I planned to show her at breakfast. Maybe her alarm didn’t go off this morning. I should probably check so she doesn’t miss her 8am.

  As I stepped off the elevator I nearly plowed into Wendy as she’s running down the hall. She slowed down and jogged backwards to yell at me as she passed.

  “B.D. ate something from that skeevy Chinese food trailer last night and she’s barfing up her toenails this morning. I’ve got an exam in my 8 o’clock, so I’ve got to go. Could you get her some Immodium and Sprite at the market downstairs? I promise to be your best friend.” She waved at me as the doors to the elevator closed on her.

  I knocked on B.D.’s door and after what seemed like hours B.D. answered wearing nothing but a tank top and purple sleep shorts covered in black cats. Her hair was tied in a messy bun on her head and her eyes and nose were red and puffy. She started to talk but just got an “hh” out, before she covered her mouth and ducked back in the room. Inside I found her hunched over a lined trash can, heaving her guts up. I grabbed a wash cloth from the cabinet under the sink by her door and got it wet and grabbed the cat tooth brush—I’m sure it’s hers—and put a bit of tooth paste on it and filled a glass with water. As she sat down on the edge of her bed, I handed her the cold wash cloth and she wiped her face with it.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” I handed her the tooth brush and she swiped it through her mouth a few times and spit into the trash can, so I handed her the water which she swished around and spit out that too.

  “Thanks.”

  “Not a problem. Why don’t you lay down while I take care of this.” I said as I gestured toward the trash can.

  “No, no I don’t want to bother you.”

  “It’s not a problem,” I said as a lifted out the trash can liner and tied it up and replaced it with another one. I kind of expected to start heaving a bit myself, but she was just barfing up bile now and it didn’t have the vomit smell that made me start heaving.

  “Seriously, I’ve got this. You just relax. I’ll text the tutoring center and tell them to cancel your appointments. I’ll go down and get you something to drink and some medicine. Just try to rest.”

  “Don’t bother getting anything. I’ll just barf it up.”

  “No, even if you do, some fluids are better than no fluids even if you barf some of it up. If you get too dehydrated, I’ll have to take you to the health center and get an IV. And you definitely want to try to avoid the health center. Those guys are quacks.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m going downstairs now. If you need to barf again, here’s the trash can.” I waved the trash can with the clean liner at her. “Here’s the wash cloth on your desk too. Just try to sleep and I’ll be back with things to make you better.”

  At the little store downstairs, I grabbed several bottles of Sprite, the Immodium, a package of crackers, and some chicken noodle soup. Everything has an astronomical mark-up, but I didn’t want to leave B.D. alone for the time it would take me to drive to a real store. I stopped in the cafeteria for some ice on the way back up to her room.

  I let myself in with her keys and set the bag on her desk. I put one of the Sprites in her fridge and open the other one and poured it over ice, so the ice could melt and essentially make weak, sugar water that will do a better job balancing her electrolytes than straight Sprite. Once everything’s stashed and ready for her when she wakes up, I sit on her desk chair and watch her sleep. Even red and puffy, she’s beautiful. Her skin looks more like china than flesh. Her nose turns up just a bit at the end and her perfectly shaped eye brows give her this perpetually curious expression. Her curls frame her face even when tied up haphazardly like now. And her ears look like a sculptor shaped them. She really is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I can’t help but sigh. Then her eyes open, and for a moment, I feel my heart swell, but with a deep breath I push it down.

  “So, tiger, how you feeling?” I ask B.D.

  “Like someone scraped me off their shoe.”

  I chuckle. “Ready to try some fluids and medicine?”

  “I’m not sure. I still feel like I’ll just barf it up.”

  “Let’s just give it a try. If you barf, you barf, but maybe your system will manage to suck up some fluids before you do.”

  “Okay,” she groans as she manages to pull herself into a sitting position with effort.

  I hand her the watered down Sprite. “Just sip a little slowly.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not sure I should drink anything.”

  “Just give it a shot,” I encourage her.

  She slowly brings the glass to her lips and sips a bit. Then a bit more. Then she starts chugging it.

  “Whoa, whoa Tiger. I said to sip a little not chug the whole glass.”

  “Once I started drinking it, it tasted so good. I just couldn’t stop.”

  “Let’s see if this Immodium will keep it down.” I hand over the two Immodium I already popped out of the blister pack and she swallows them with another big gulp. “Let’s see how that sits on your stomach.”

  She rolls her eyes around like she’s trying to see how she feels.

  “Why don’t you lie back down to see if that helps too?”

  She lies back and stares awkwardly at the ceiling.

  “Why don’t I play some music?” I suggest.

  “Sure,” she starts to sit back up.

  “I’ve got it. I’ll play a play list off my phone.” I plug my phone into the small portable speaker I carry in my backpack and Ok-Go’s Invincible starts to play. B.D. giggles a bit and starts to sit up. I gently push her back down on the bed.

  “I always think of you when this song plays,” I tell her.

  “Why?”

  “Because just like the song says, “When they come to destroy the earth, they’ll have to come through you first. You’d save the earth if it came down to it.”

  “I don’t feel invincible—especially not right now.”

  “This,” I wave my hands over her stomach, “is just temporary. What you’ve got going on here,” I tap her temple, “and here,” I pat her chest over her heart, “is definitely invincible.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so,�
�� I declare definitively as I brush a curl back from her forehead. Then, despite smelling vaguely of sick, I brush my thumb over her lips then lean to steal a kiss, but before our lips meet the door bursts open and in rushes Wendy. She eyes us suspiciously.

  “Did I interrupt anything?” she asks while giving us a sideways glance.

  “No, no, nothing,” we both reply in unison a bit too quickly.

  “Ooookay. So how’s the patient?” she asks.

  “I feel much better,” answers B.D.

  “She’s keeping down almost 8 oz. of Sprite and water with the Immodium. It must be working.”

  “Good. Thanks for taking care of her, David. I just couldn’t miss that exam,” gushes Wendy.

  “Of course, it wasn’t any trouble at all. I’m glad I could help. And I’m glad you’re doing better.” I nod at B.D.

  “Much better. I might even be up for afternoon classes,” she says.

  “Let’s not rush it. Why don’t you give me the homework for Baker’s class. I’ll turn yours in with mine and take good notes. Tomorrow after breakfast, we can go over the proofs together.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “And, are we still on to go to the Physics banquet together?” I ask.

  “I guess if I really have to go. I hate that stuff,” she whines.

  “Yes, you have to go. First, as a Fineman scholar it’s expected. Two, you’ll make a lot of great contacts. Three, the Driskill has great food and is gorgeous. It’s worth it just to go there.”

  “If you say so,” she says a bit skeptically.

  “While I’m here let me make a suggestion about what to wear.” I rifle through her closet. The woman has half as many clothes as any other woman I’ve ever met. I find the burgundy suit my mother found for her and a pink, silk shell to go under it. The suit has a short jacket that’s fitted but scalloped along the lapel and bottom. It’s professional but feminine, and it will show off her figure. All the sexist old guys at the luncheon will love it. I dig through the pile of shoes at the bottom of her closet, but I don’t find what I’m look for. “Don’t you have a pair of pink Manolos with kitten heels?”

  “In the right drawer under my bed.”