Do-Overs

by Christine Jarmola

  “Lottie, wait,” was all I heard. Then, I was back in front of the music rehearsal building. I was tired. A walk wasn’t a good idea after all. Time to return to my dorm and get ahead on my reading for my Lit. class. I’d probably end up graduating Magna Cum Laude seeing as how I was going to have plenty of time for studying that semester.

  -28-

  And Then There Were Three

  “Hey girlfriend, how was the movie? Did all the werewolves take off their shirts again to your approval?” I asked Stina, when she came back at midnight.

  “Ooo baby. And the funniest thing is all the cougars in the audience drooling over jailbait boys on the screen. Love that movie,” laughed Stina. “Any vampire action around here tonight?” she asked. One look at my face told her the answer. “Bummer. He’s probably just busy. Those theater people are always practicing something. Didn’t you say he has a lead in the next musical? I’m sure he had some rehearsal or something.”

  Or something was right. First I had spent a semester thinking he was gay and unobtainable. I find out he’s straight, but straight into the arms of super gorgeous octopus woman.

  “Well, here’s some news to put priorities back into perspective,” said Stina. As she was talking Rachel and Olivia came through the bathroom passage to join our gab session. “Keesha didn’t come back this semester.”

  “Only three K’s. That just won’t work. All out of balance,” observed Olivia.

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  “Prego,” came Stina’s reply. All the joy gone from her voice.

  Rachel gave a heavy sigh and sat down on the end of my bed. “I thought she was before Christmas. She said she thought she had a stomach virus. Some rare type that only happens in the mornings. Mr. Soccer Player—old love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

  “I just don’t get it. She said she was using protection,” came Stina’s naive little voice.

  I gave a sad laugh. “Come on we all know it doesn’t always work. Ask my mom. That’s how she ended up with my little sisters. After that she took dad to the vet for the old snip, snip.”

  “So what is Keesha going to do?” asked Olivia. The mood in the room was like that of a funeral. In a bizarre sense it was. The death of the K’s as we knew them. The end of Keesha’s childhood. Yes, we all wanted to be adults and mature, but not instantaneously.

  Rachel filled us in. “She dropped out. Just too much stress to try and go to school full-time right now. Kasha said she is looking for a job and taking some classes online. They’re only sophomores so she wasn’t even half way through with her degree.”

  “Is Mr. Soccer helping out any?” I asked. Always the romantic, I was hoping for a happy ending.

  Stina rolled her eyes. “Phew, no. He’s still dating that skank Taylor. According to Kyra he tried to claim the baby wasn’t even his. Called Keesha a slut and said she’d been sleeping with every guy on campus.” At least there was a little justice in that Taylor was cheating on him also. Sadly, with Al Dansby. Made me despise her even more.

  Olivia was hot. “We all know that’s a lie. That scum. That lousy soccer-playing scum. If I could just get my hands on him.”

  “Run him over,” I murmured. Olivia shot me the strangest look. Then she looked at Rachel.

  “Fortunately Keesha has a wonderful mom who’s going to help raise the baby. Without her I don’t know what she would have done. She doesn’t have any job skills to get anything more than a minimum wage job and with paying for a babysitter she wouldn’t make any money. Could have ended up homeless,” said Stina

  “It just isn’t right. We think we have progressed so much since the days of Jane Austin, but let’s be honest. That LSPS” which the lousy soccer-playing scum affectionately became known to us from that moment on, “gets to go on and live his life with no interruptions and Keesha’s entire world has changed. It’s just not fair,” I ranted.

  “No, life just isn’t fair very often, princess,” said Olivia in a world-weary voice. “It’s just not fair.”

  -29-

  IT

  “So have you ever done IT?” asked the little voice in the darkness. It had to be one in the morning when we had finally gotten lights out and to bed. I thought Stina had been asleep for some time as I lay there wishing and dreaming and worrying.

  “Stina, where did that come from?” I countered.

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Then Stina said, “With everything with Keesha. It made me realize it could so easily have been me.”

  “But you’re not even dating anyone. Especially not a tool like that soccer player.”

  Stina sighed. “Back in high school. There was this guy. I was seventeen. I was in love. Next thing I knew we were in the backseat of his car and it was over in less than four minutes. Not at all like the movies, not at all. Just awkward and messy. I felt so stupid. It wasn’t even a nice car,” Stina finished with a mirthless giggle.

  I had no idea how to respond. I knew that most people my age had had a least one sexual encounter. Most a lot more. But somehow I never would have thought that Stina had. She just seemed so innocent.

  “Two weeks later and two more quickies and then he dumped me. He was a senior and I was a junior. Said he wanted to go off to college with no ties. I was crushed. I really thought he loved me.”

  I could hear the tears in Stina’s voice. Our sweet, bubbly Stina. Almost four years had passed, yet it still hurt her.

  “I haven’t dated a guy seriously since then,” she continued. “Just felt so betrayed. Don’t ever want to feel that way again.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. Thanks anyway. It’s just that I could have gotten pregnant at seventeen.”

  “Didn’t you use any protection?”

  “No. Didn’t know how. I was a good girl. Nobody teaches good girls how to protect themselves. Good girls don’t have sex.”

  “No, they just get pregnant.” It was quiet again.

  “So? Have you?” Stina asked again.

  “No.”

  “Oh, I thought that was what the whole OU guy was about.”

  There in the darkness I began to unburden my soul. It was amazing how easy it was to tell Stina about the hardest event in my life. Maybe knowing Olivia and Stina’s stories helped me put my own experience into perspective. Although heartbreaking and humiliating it didn’t compare to Olivia’s terror or Stina’s disappointment. Maybe it was just that it was a story that was easier to tell in the dark.

  “Yes, it was. Same story just a different twist. We dated about a month. He kept trying to get me to do it. Not saying I didn’t want to. But, I wasn’t ready. I wanted the dream. The magical moment. You know—the beautiful four-poster bed, white curtains blowing in the breeze. And a knight in shinning armor that you know will still be there the next morning and the next year. Not some backseat and four minutes.” We both gave a sad laugh. “I was prepared. My mom made sure of that when I turned sixteen. What she didn’t realize was that a lot of my friends were already doing it at fourteen. But she tried, bless her heart.”

  “So, why did you leave OU?”

  “It was a catastrophe. He said, his actual words, ‘Lottie, this relationship has to move to the next level.’ Then he gave me an ultimatum to put out or get out. I finally told him no way, no how until marriage and that didn’t seem very likely. You should have seen his face. He was mad. Like I’d gypped him out of something. Like I owed it to him. Needless to say we broke up then and there.”

  “So, why did you leave?”

  “Cause he didn’t stop there. He was out for some sort of demented revenge. He got on my Facebook page—I didn’t know he had my password. He put this horrible status that—well—it was vulgar all about how much I enjoyed having sex with him and a bunch of other guys. He also put my phone number on Craig’s List for kinky stuff. Then he told anyone who would listen how I was bad in bed and that’s why he dumped me.”

  “What a ...”

  “Yea
h, my reputation shot in record time. How could I undo that? I had to close my Facebook account and get a new phone number. My brother Jason was going to beat the crap out of him. But I talked him out of it. It would have gotten him suspended from the team and wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d have still gotten the looks, the smirks. Suddenly, I had guys lining up to go out with me because they thought I was easy. I even had a guy I barely knew lean over and tell me during class not to worry if I was bad at sex—not the words he said, something too disgusting—said he’d teach me how to be better if I’d go out with him. It was just gross. I had to get out of there.”

  “The girl always seems to lose.”

  “I don’t get it, Stina. What do you mean?”

  “It’s the girl—every time. Look at you. You left a great school to get away from a D-bag idiot. You’re the one that life became unbearable for, not him. You had to change your life, not him. Just like Keesha. She’s gone. Her life has changed forever and the LSPS just gets to go on like nothing ever happened.”

  We laid there in the silence pondering it all. Stina was right. When things went bad it always seemed the girl had to make the changes while the guy went happily skipping down the road of life.

  I thought Stina must have gone to sleep when I heard a little voice again. “He should have anyway.”

  I was totally confused. “He who should have done what anyway?”

  “Your brother. He should have pulverized the scumbag.”

  “I told you, it wouldn’t have solved anything and could have gotten Jason kicked off the team.”

  “Yeah, but it sure would have felt good,” said my loyal friend.

  “Yeah, it sure would have,” I giggled. “Anyway, I left there older and wiser.”

  I heard someone walking down the hall bouncing a ball. Volleyball girls must still be up.

  Stina sighed. “I hope someday I can trust again.”

  “Me too,” I whispered. In my mind I no longer saw the scum from OU when I thought of trust, instead a pair of green eyes over a beautiful smile. “Me too.”

  -30-

  You Don’t Bring Me Flowers

  Two days I could handle. Three, getting stressed. But by day four and no Al sightings or communication I was having major withdrawals. It was time to give up. Non-gay Al Dansby was obviously hooked-up with SW (aka skank woman, aka Thing One, aka Taylor.) I mean why not? She was what guys wanted, tall, beautiful and willing.

  “No word today?” Stina asked at dinner. One look from me told her the answer. We were getting almost as scary as the K’s at non-verbal communication. “Doesn’t the guy ever eat? We’ve been staked out here in the cafeteria for days spending over an hour at every meal and he hasn’t come through.”

  “We are not staked out. I just eat slow,” I said, in denial. Honest truth—I hadn’t eaten much all week. Slow or fast. I just played with my food, looking for his golden brown hair. No luck. “Anyhow, it’s a pointless venture. I saw him and SW with my own eyes. It’s so just not going to happen.”

  Stina gave a Stina giggle. “Yeah, just keep saying that while you continue canvassing the campus for an Al Dansby sighting. Well, pokey eater, I have things to do and places to go. I’ll see you back at the room. And remember what my mom always told me, ‘A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.’”

  “Thanks for those wise words you Gloria Steinem wannabe.”

  Stina gave me a sad smile. “Just wanting to remind you to believe in yourself. Something we all need reminding of some days.

  Out of the mouths of Stinas do come very wise words some days. Not most days, but some. I had to quit being so lovesick pathetic. Time to go get on with life without a bicycle.

  It was a nice day for January, only a little wind. I thought I should get some exercise so I started on a walk. Turning the corner I realized the wind had just been blocked by the building. It was there alright, strong and with a bite to it as usual. Maybe a walk wasn’t such a good idea. Up the front steps of the dorm, which I seldom used, and in the front door.

  There he stood in the foyer in all his perfection, holding a single red rose. I’d either died and ended up on a pathetic reality show, or my prayers had been answered.

  He turned to look over his shoulder to see who had just come in the door. His face was a mixture of glowing and dread. Find that color in your Crayola box. I gave him my biggest Colgate smile. He was there. He cared. He’d even shown up with flowers. How could it get any better than that?

  “Oh, Al, you’re here,” came a voice from the lowest pit of hell. “And you brought me flowers. How nice,” said Taylor looking like a modern day Scarlett O’Hara walking down the stairs.

  Life can be bad sometimes. Sometimes it can get worse. But that had to be the ultimate worse. Being all ready to get flowers from the man of your dreams just to realize he wasn’t there for you.

  Instant tears of frustration, humiliation and any other -ation I could think of sprang into my eyes. This so wasn’t going to happen. He’d made his choice and I wasn’t going to stand there like the loser duffuses at the Bachelor Rose Ceremony.

  “Lottie, wait,” he said. But I didn’t. The power of the eraser worked its magic. Even if things were never to be between us, at least he didn’t have to see me being all drama queen about it.

  It was a nice day for January. Only a little wind. I thought I should get some exercise, but not by going on a walk. Instead a good cry in my room would burn off the same amount of calories, I decided as I entered the backdoor of the dorm headed to my basement sanctuary.

  -31-

  Noteworthy

  Life always feels better after a good cry. And two Snickers bars. And a Diet Dr. Pepper. And some cookie dough. All shared with three good friends. And then wait four days.

  A week had gone by with no Al Dansby sightings. At least none that anyone other than me would ever know of. I had kept my trusty eraser friend always close at my side making sure I wouldn’t accidentally run into the man of Taylor’s reality. Three times it had happened, but I had quickly fixed the situation. I was finding interesting alternative routes for getting to and from class. I just wasn’t up to hearing his voice, or some lame words of how we could be good friends.

  I had just finished the most recent dodge/do-over by entering in the main dorm entrance rather than the back as for some bizarre reason Al had been standing next to the back door earlier.

  “Hey, Lottie,” called Kasha as I entered the foyer. “Waz up?”

  “Not enough. You working the desk tonight?”

  “Yup. Trying to get Madame Bovary read. Have you started yet?” Like last semester, Kasha and I were in the same Lit. class, again with Dr. Jekyll. Second week of school and she already wanted an essay on a book I hadn’t finished reading. I couldn’t get past Madame Bovary and her lovers. SW’s face kept appearing in my thoughts and I wanted to sling the book across the room.

  “Started, not finished. I forgot you worked the desk. I don’t usually come in this door unless it’s after hours, to sign in.”

  “Obviously. Look at your mailbox. Ever think of getting your mail?

  She was right. It was stuffed with junk mail and flyers. Guess I should check it more often, but who of importance used snail mail anymore? Email or text seemed to get the word out. If it was really important it could be Snapchatted. I grabbed the pile of junk and stood next to the trashcan sorting it. Credit card applications. Didn’t they know that they weren’t supposed to solicit to college students anymore? Yeah, right. Flyers for a dance from the week before. Guess I missed that. Hey, what was that? An actual letter written by hand. What could that be?

  The front said, “Ms. Lottie Lambert –English Major, Basement, Asbury Hall.” Okay, I was intrigued. I went to sit in the parlor to open it.

  Lottie,

  I enjoyed our duet last night and hope that we can do it again, soon.

  I didn’t know how to get in touch with you, as I didn’t have your phone number or email ad
dress. Then I remembered there was this archaic form of communication called a letter. Rather inefficient, but better than smoke signals.

  As I don’t have your number to call you, could you call me if you’d like to go out. If you don’t call I’ll understand.

  Al Dansby

  There in the bottom corner were both his email address and phone number.

  He liked me. My heart was a flutter. The world was right. I swear I heard birds singing. He liked me. He hadn’t forgotten me. In fact he had written to me the very next day after our piano interlude.

  THE VERY NEXT DAY. Oh crap! The letter had sat in my mailbox for over a week. He had been waiting for me to call, and I hadn’t.

  “Good news or bad news?” Kasha called from the desk. “I heard you gasp all the way in here so it must be something.”

  “Great news. Just the wrong time. I have got to check my mailbox more often.” With that I was off to my basement room to get advice on how to proceed.

  ***

  My first impulse was to grab my phone and call. Always being one to follow my first impulse that was what I did.

  “You have reached the cell phone of Al Dansby,” his magnificent voice said. “I am either unable to answer your call or am screening calls and you didn’t make the cut. Either way please leave a message at the beep.”

  What to say? What to say? I hung up. Oh great, it would show my missed call. I’ll just erase that. Flick of the eraser and start again.

  My first impulse was to grab my phone and call. This time I wouldn’t. I’d play it cool. I’d text. What to say? Keep it simple.

  “Hey, Lottie. What cha doing?” asked Stina as she came in the door followed by Rachel, Olivia and Kyra and Kaylee.