I wake up each morning wondering what unexpected occurrences will confront me. Naturally, I hope for the best, but ‘best’ has its opposite, just like good and evil, up and down. I’m a freshman in college now. I’ve worked hard to get here for years after high school graduation.
My roommate, Bert, walked into our dormitory room in Jones Hall. He was whistling a happy tune, then became quiet. He asked me to come with him to a gathering of college campus workers. We’d meet in the back room of a local bar called Radissi’s. I declined the offer. I wanted to continue my work on class assignments, even though I had been working on them all afternoon and would only need another hour to finish. A little latter I decided that I deserved to relax, and I changed my mind about the gathering. I went to Radissi’s.
My friends, on campus, were mostly veterans. I was a member of the Veteran’s Club. The college bullies got a quick lesson on just how smart it was not to screw around with a vet. Whenever they confronted one of us, suddenly there’s half a dozen or more vets staring them down. Yes, we were freshmen and vets. No, we were not going to wear beanies because of any school tradition. Just saying you are a veteran made them vanish. It was an unexpected feeling of power that was not abused unless it needed to be used. Brutality, coldness, self-defense radiated from most of us in a situation like that, then vanished to be hidden under a cloak of sublime civility.
Later, I disliked myself for wanting a fight, wanting the adrenaline to explode upon the enemy. It happened once in my dorm, but I never allowed it to happen again. I had too much at risk to get thrown out of college. The vet’s point was made and understood. After the first semester none of us had any trouble, not even a nibble. Our faces were known. Peace prevailed.
I lectured myself about self-control. I was not here for fun, nor for hostile actions. I wanted a degree. I could not afford to let anything get in my way, no distractions, and yet, sometimes I was my own distraction.
Now, at Radissi’s, I was being distracted by man’s favorite desire: sex. Another short distraction was being asked to join the basketball team because of my height. I declined but would run into some players who tried to talk me into it. I wasn’t there for sports, I told them. I knew from my high school experiences that I wasn’t a particularly good basketball player, not only did I lack the coordination skills needed, but I had to play without my glasses. I had broken two pair of glasses getting rebounds for the team, so I was told to quit the team or play without my glasses. I played without my glasses and could not be accurate, so I didn’t attempt to shoot in the game, if I played, unless I was under the basket. I rebounded, passed off the ball. I felt embarrassed being out there. I eventually quit the team. I should have done it sooner. It helped my decision to quit when I scored a rare basket and, on my way back down the court the cheerleaders were arguing about who would do a cheer for me. I’d never felt extreme humiliation like that. I wanted to run off the court, head for the lockers and go home, but part of my family was in the grandstands. I hoped that they did not hear or see that abominable demonstration of immature ignorance. Then there was no doubt about quitting. I wouldn’t be missed and for good reason. I simply was not a good player and I had reached a point where I didn’t care to get better. There was only one guy on the team that I liked anyway. We had gone to school together for many years and he was a friend.
When asked to join a fraternity, I declined, but I had friends in one fraternity and was always invited to their parties, most of which I did not attend. It was another distraction avoided.
When asked to use drugs, I declined. When asked to participate in mischief, I declined. When asked to use alcohol on the weekend, I jumped at the chance. I did much drinking and dancing at the Varsity Inn. Gotta have some fun.
If someone wanted to find me, all they needed to do was go to the library between the hours of 6:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m. although I didn’t usually want to be found (distraction) so I tended to hide in some far nook or corner of the library. The library was more of a home than my dorm because of all the hours I was there, including afternoon hours.
A half hour later, with tired eyes, and needing to relax, I changed my mind about going to the gathering. I could use a beer, talk to Bert, maybe have some fun and relax.
Radissi’s wasn’t far from the dorm, maybe five or ten minutes. When I got there, I went to the bar, bought a beer and chips, then wandered into the back room. There was a gathering of about a dozen students. I spotted an empty chair by Bert and walked toward his surprised face.
I could feel multiple eyes following me as I walked along the edge of two long tables turned end to end to make one long seating area. It was like being the new kid at a new school. The multiple eyes focused on me were nearly palpable, as if a dozen butterflies had subtly landed on me. If this had happened in high school, I would have been self-conscious, perhaps embarrassed, though I had always been shy at initial meetings. They didn’t know that I had matured tremendously since being out of high school for six years. Actually, my outlook about most people had changed radically. I preferred to be alone, didn’t like gatherings, especially wild booze parties, loud noises bothered me (now that I have hearing aids loud noises bother me even more), small talk with strangers gives me angst. When younger I needed people. Now, much older, I need to be alone most of the time. The world had changed as I had changed since my Navy experiences coincided with the Vietnam fiasco. From those experiences I learned a great lesson. If you want to win a war, a fight, you don’t play by the enemy’s rules. You win or you lose, so choose.
Slowly I turned and looked at the lookers. I swept my vision across their faces. They looked away as I did so, except for one pretty lass who kept her stare on me. I took note of her, but I did not smile. In my mind, I named her ‘Pretty Eyes’ (PE) since she had an alluring smile while her eyes gleamed, reflecting the overhead lights. She was too far away to see eye colors, but I saw a sparkle in them as she moved her head to another angle for newly reflected light. Maybe the effects of the beer had an influence on what I saw in her eyes. I did not linger on her but turned away. I’d only viewed her for a second, yet I remembered the eyes, the smile, the long, auburn hair, and pearly white teeth. I turned away from her, but her countenance still shown at the back of my mind. It had the effect of softening my seriousness at the gathering. But I had no intention of getting involved with any relationship, other than casual friendships, that would affect my ultimate goals. This gathering was for kids bound to the immediate present, the here and now. I was bound by making a future. Here and now was temporary, but what happens can change the future.
I smiled, grinned is a better word, at them and I was pleased to see some return smiles. Maybe I could relax around this gathering, though I noticed I was sitting next to Bert. Why? Maybe I wasn’t as secure as I thought I was. Except for my initial entrance, Bert and I never talked. Strange. These teenagers were just kids out to have fun with freedom from parents and party-minded. I wasn’t a kid anymore and I wasn’t there to have fun. That would come later when I felt comfortable with my workload. I knew what I wanted. I knew how to get it. I knew how much work would be involved and I was very aware of the sacrifices that I had made to get to college and the great workload I would have to accomplish to meet my goals. But there had to be some fun, too. Perhaps, I reasoned, this is one of those moments.
The fun started when two females sat on my left side. Bert was sitting to my right, so I was hemmed in. Bert was now fully engaged with another female so intimately that I assumed she was his girlfriend. Bert had the face of a Leprechaun and it was squeezed into his girlfriend’s face. I hoped that neither one of them had chipped a tooth.
My thoughts were distracted by the two girls who sat next to me. To attend to them I had to turn away from PE. It was a natural movement, usually done without much thought. However, I was aware of who I was turning away from. The impression was now indelible.
The girls were surprisingly friendly to me, the stranger in the group. They displayed cute smiles, and I felt the subtle movement of a chair pushed closer to me. A blonde and a brunette looked at me. I sure as hell was not used to that kind of treatment. Didn’t complain, though. It was so unlike the high school self-centered starlets craving the attention from the handsome studs. These two girls were far more mature than high school girls, so my average appearance didn’t turn them away. I was probably unaware that I was smiling, or at least grinning. This kind of attention was foreign to me.
I never considered myself even close to handsome, just an average man wanting to make something of himself with hard work, good decisions, and patience. It was nice being older than the teenagers, in many ways, being so much smarter and self-assured, not needing approval or acceptance, not holding my breath hoping to make a positive first impression.
I was somewhat hesitant, maybe even standoffish, not aloof, but not revealing either. I didn’t want to reveal much about myself, and in so doing, made myself more interesting. A mystery calls for attention, right? But that’s not what I had in mind. Questions about my post-high school experiences did come up. I made fun of it mostly. I was just a bland sailor, a girl in every port (another mistake), a penchant for alcohol, and boisterous fun. None of which was true. I stuck to talking about my job at IBM and computer parts, plus the countries I had visited but hoping to avoid military questions. I stuck to short answers, as much as possible. The questions about being single and available brought another smile, so I couldn’t help thinking that my stoicism was melting like hot butter. There was some unexpected attention given to how young I looked, as if I were really a teenager when, actually, I was twenty-four.
I had attended summer school to get a head start on the first semester course load. I dated two girls. Neither believed my age. I showed one of them my driver’s license, and she asked how she could get a fake one, like mine, that looked so realistic. After that I let anyone assume what they wanted to about my real age. I have to say, though, that it was exceptionally funny to see her eyes as she read my driver’s license information then got closer to me and whispered, “How’d they make it look so damn real?” It’s still a funny memory.
Refocusing on my two new friends and our pleasant discussion was cut short by a guy who thought we all should introduce ourselves and give some background information. A reasonable request since new people were at the gathering. When my turn came, I said as little as possible, certainly nothing about Vietnam. Protests were still occurring on college campuses in 1970. The terminally cancerous war continued for five more years.
I stood, said my name, named my double majors, remarked about where in New York State I lived and went to high school, that I needed to use the GI Bill to go to college due to lack of finances, sacrificing four years, to get four years of college. I’d have mentioned my height, weight, and what brand of toilet paper I liked and what color I preferred, if it would distract from any more personal information. But I was slowly learning to live with distractions. I minored in distractions.
As I bent forward, at the waist, to sit down, a voice rang out, “Would you repeat your name?” I did. It was PE who asked. Her smile seemed to transport itself to me, a pressure on my lips, perhaps. She had already introduced herself, but I was distracted with personal thoughts and the heat radiating off the body of the girl sitting next to me. Sitting made her head level with my waist as I stood there. Definitely a horny distraction. Finding out PE’s name would have to wait.
As I sat, I was thinking of leaving. This whole fuckin’ place was one big, fucking distraction. I wondered if I’d made a mistake. It was such a distraction that I just noticed that Bert and his girlfriend were bleary-eyed from all the beer they had consumed. Yet they still held hands and looked at each other adoringly, though sluggishly. I was still only half done with my mug of beer, and as for the chips, I had a few, but the girls shared and still there was half a bag.
I had no intention of getting too involved beyond casual friendships, but PE thought otherwise. And look at this. To my complete surprise, PE was now sitting directly across the table from me, just staring and smiling. I thought, this girl’s got balls, then banished the ugly thought. But this dilemma made me pause and stop talking to the two girls, so I could give her a curious look that showed my surprise. That’s when the first chip from my unconscious facade fell away. In some ways I was just like my high school self, but in other ways I was a different person. How could that happen? It sure wasn’t from working at IBM. It was my Navy and Vietnam experiences (two dead friends) twisting and nudging their way through my chain of DNA.
I refocused on the moment. I had half a bag of chips and half a glass of beer remaining. The truth is, I do not like the taste of beer, any beer. The chips were salty. I liked salty food (A salty sailor was I, too, Popeye).
While I had paused to stare at PE, my new friends went to the bar to refresh their drinks. I looked at them as they walked away. A damn good view, too.
When I turned back to PE, she wasn’t there. I felt pressure on my left arm. I looked left and PE was sitting in the closest chair to me. One that was initially occupied by a new acquaintance. Bert was sitting on the other side of me, so I was fenced in between Bert and PE.
Finally, I could see PE’s eye color. Wow! They were green and beautiful.
When my two new friends returned, they saw PE sitting next to me. I was embarrassed for them, but I had to grin at the brashness of PE’s counter clock movements around the table. I also felt a click in my brain, and the thought, WTF appeared in bold, black letters against a grey-matter background. Ominous? I waited.
The blonde said, “You’re in my seat,” to PE.
PE responded, “Empty seats are available seats.” PE didn’t even turn to face the girl, just smiled at me as I looked at my beer. I said to myself, is this really happening? Then, what kind of mess have I gotten myself into? A long chain of distractions?
Without paying any more attention to the two girls, PE whispered, “May I share your chips?” PE’s eyes and smile, like in basketball, double-teamed me so my shot at the blonde and brunette ended. I have to admit, although I tried to be cool up until then, I was feeling a little shaky now.
I was thinking, are you for real, but my tongue disobeyed orders and I said aloud, “Are you for real?”
“I think so,” she responded. “Wanna touch me to be sure?”
The question went unanswered. I’m generally good at humorous repartee, but damned if I could think of a reply. I was thinking that I didn’t want to be offensive or seem hostile. I shut my mouth and kept it shut until I could make sense of this inexplicable situation.
A look at my watch told me that it was getting late, and I said I had to go back to the dorm to get some sleep. I had an early class. If possible, I scheduled all my classes for the morning or early afternoon which gave me a good block of time for afternoon studying, researching, typing, writing or whatever else was needed.
“Will you walk me back to my dorm?” PE inquired.
“Only if you’ll finally tell me your name,” I chuckled, not being able to keep a straight face. She stood on tip-toes and whispered into my ear, a tingling feeling making me slowly withdraw. A witch. That’s what she was. A pretty and good witch. Wendy-the-ghost’s older sister, maybe, but definitely, exquisitely human.
We exited the back room of Radissi’s and walked out into a time warp. A dizzying swirl of circling wind, in a tornado of swirling colors and with thousands of multi-colored clocks whose hands were spinning so fast that they caused a blackened blur on the clock’s smiling faces. We were captured and carried away inside a funnel-like time warp.
*****
Now, fifty years later, we are still married, have a daughter and two grand kids. Both of us are retired teachers with sixty-four years of cumulative teaching experience.
We have both reached the peak of our lives and are currently close to the ground level as we descend from that peak. We have happily shared our lives through good times and bad, constantly working to stay in love, keeping our marriage strong and our family close. We are lucky to have had such a good, long life.
Though highly unusual, nowadays, our love for each other has lasted and, hopefully, will last a few more years. Our love still grows, the flowers still bloom, and our hearts are as one. We never met a fork in the road that we didn’t take together, holding hands, eyes meeting, lips touching passionately.
Love lasts.
Love Lasts
By Bill Sheehan 2-3-2021
Do not keep my ashes, set me free,
My rising ashes will free you, too,
I will take flight as your bee,
A Honeybee that always loved you.
I will not fall as an autumn leaf,
But soar unnoticed with you in view,
No more sorrow or pain, believe,
Be calm, be happy, for I am with you.
I am in the clear morning dew,
I am in the breezes that comfort you,
I lie softly in your memorial brain,
You will feel me in the warm rain.
You will see my face in a cumulus cloud,
I will be by you, a happy man so proud,
You will feel my slight, caressing grips, and,
As always, it will be magic kissing your lips.
Comments