Colin Preston Rocked And Rolled

by Bert Murray

  I held out the bag of Doritos I’d been eating. “Would you like some?”

  “Thanks but no. I’m into natural foods. Do you know what all the crap in that does to your body?”

  “Yeah, it fills me up.” I was trying to get a smile out of her.

  “You won’t be laughing when you have your first heart attack.”

  I rolled up the bag of chips and put it on the floor beside the couch, out of Jasmine’s view. I wiped the orange crumbs off my T-shirt.

  Jasmine touched me lightly on my shoulder. “So what are you up to?”

  “I just bought my books for Psych 101 at the campus store. How about you?”

  “I was going to take a walk outside. Want to come?”

  Great. This was my chance to get to know her better. “Sure.”

  We walked out of the dorm into the Quad, the center of the campus. Between the buildings were elm and oak trees and plenty of green grass.

  We passed the chapel and the student center and entered Wilcox Gardens, which had rows of orange and red marigold and black eyed susan. In the center of the garden was a row of concrete benches.

  I cleaned some dirt off the bench with my hand so Jasmine could sit. I sat next to her, wondering how close I could get without going over the line. Sitting a few yards from us on a striped towel was an attractive middle-aged woman with black and white streaks in her hair. She was smoking and had a large black cat with her that she held on a long leash.

  I whispered in Jasmine’s ear. “Check it out. That woman has her cat on a leash. That’s weird.”

  “Don’t you know who that is? It’s Mrs. Vesquez. My friend has her for Spanish Lit. She’s from Spain and is a famous novelist.”

  “Really?”

  Jasmine nodded and stared at the roses. “Rumor is, she has a drug addiction.”

  “The woman must be on drugs if she keeps her cat on a leash.”

  “She probably has her reasons. My friend says she’s very sympathetic and understanding.”

  Jasmine was right. People had their reasons. Anyway, it wasn’t any of my business. The strange woman stood up, picked up her towel and walked away with her cat.

  I breathed in deeply. “I come here a lot.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Sometimes I sit on these benches for hours. I like being around a garden. I guess it’s my private place. Man, I must sound like a wuss.”

  Jasmine took my hand in hers. “No you don’t. Not at all.”

  I rubbed the top of her hand with my thumb. She didn’t pull away. Could she actually like me?

  “By the way, what’s your sign?” she asked.

  “Virgo. My birthday’s in two days. What about you?”

  “I’m a Pisces.”

  “Is that a good combination?”

  “Opposites attract. That’s a Virgo-Pisces relationship. Instant attraction and great sex.”

  I grinned. “I’m liking what I’m hearing.”

  Jasmine wagged her finger in my face. “But Virgos can get insecure and Pisces can get cold feet.”

  “Hm. Well, if you know what to look out for, then it’s not a problem.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Jasmine leaned her head on my shoulder. She placed her hand on my knee. I looked down at her long, slender fingers. The red and white flowers. The blue skies. The yellow sun. Everything was awesome. My head was spinning like the merry-go-round I rode for years in Manhattan’s Central Park. I was flying high!

  5.

  AFTER TWENTY MINUTES we walked back to the dorm hand in hand.

  Jasmine turned toward me and smiled. “So where’s your room?”

  “Um, it’s down the hall on the left,” I said.

  “Show me.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  We walked down the hall quickly. The smell of lavender and honeysuckle in her perfume, the way she looked at me with her big green eyes, the sweet sound of her voice—I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She was a total 10.

  I unlocked the door and let her walk through first. I put the Beatles’ Rubber Soul in my tape deck, and I’m Looking Through You blasted out of my speakers. I removed a book of Keats’ poems that I’d left on my bed and put it in my bookcase. We locked eyes.

  She stepped toward me and placed her hands around my waist, our lips melting together. My heart beat faster and faster. Jasmine took my shirt off and began to kiss my chest with the softest, most sensuous kisses I’d ever felt. Magic, pure magic.

  I ran my hand through her silky hair, the strands slipping easily through my fingers.

  “When I really get to know you, what am I gonna think of you?” I asked between kisses.

  “That I have a lot of secrets,” she whispered.

  “Like what?”

  “Not now. I want to kiss you again.”

  She smiled and lay on my bed. I noticed for the first time that she had a freckle on the bottom of her chin. I lay on top of her. She seemed to like the heaviness of my body.

  Amazing. Yes. She was amazing. How did I get so lucky all of a sudden? All freshman year I watched the pretty girls walk around campus, but none of them ever looked at me.

  Jasmine shimmied out of her jeans like she didn’t have a care in the world. She was wearing pink cotton panties. On her hip was a large tattoo of a sunflower. I’d never dated anyone who had a tattoo.

  “Why a sunflower?” I ran my fingers over the tattoo.

  “My mother grows them. She thinks sunflowers have good karma.”

  “Do you believe in that?”

  “What, karma? Of course. I also believe in aura. Yours exudes positive energy.”

  “It does? Thanks.” I was hard as a rock. I jumped out of bed and went into the closet to get a Trojan. Then I stood in front of the bed as Jasmine undid my belt buckle and pulled down my pants.

  I took off my boxers and stared into her green eyes. She glanced down.

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “Just the way I like it.”

  I wanted her to think I was a total stud.

  “What are you waiting for? Make love to me.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me on top of her.

  “Whoa, one sec. I gotta put this on.” I ripped open the condom wrapper with my teeth.

  “You don’t need that. Just relax. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  I almost dropped it. Damn. Didn’t she worry about STDs? “I better put it on. I don’t want to get you pregnant.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “You think way too much.”

  I’d heard that before. Sweat dripped down from my armpits. Shit, I was nervous. Why hadn’t I put on more Old Spice?

  I was totally turned on. She was the prettiest girl I’d ever hooked up with. I wanted her to have an unforgettable time.

  “Ok, put it on! It won’t feel as good, but whatever. Just hurry up. You’re slow.”

  I started to roll the condom down but realized I’d put it on inside out. What a klutz! Crap! Now I had to go get another one. As I hustled back to the closet, I wondered if Jasmine was beginning to think I was a complete dweeb.

  For a second time, I tore open a condom packet. This time I made sure I got the right side up. But it was tight and I had trouble rolling it down.

  “Don’t take forever.”

  “Sorry.”

  Her kisses became more aggressive. “I like it hard,” Jasmine demanded.

  No girl had ever said that to me. She was direct.

  She shouted. “That’s it. Don’t stop. A little to the left.”

  “There?”

  “Yes. But faster.”

  I was ready to come myself, but I tried to hold it back. I had to make her come even if it meant that I didn’t.

  She screamed. “I feel it now! Yes! Yes!”

  6.

  JASMINE WAS LOUD and the bed squeaked. I tried to count Beatles albums in my head to keep myself from coming. Abbey Road, Rubber Soul, Revolver, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Ban
d, Magical Mystery Tour, The White Album … I wondered if the music drowned out the bed and Jasmine’s moans or if the students standing in the hall could hear us.

  She gently pushed me off her so she could pull a joint and a green plastic lighter out of the pocket of her jeans, which were lying on the floor.

  “Did you come?”

  “Yup.” I lied. I threw the empty condom into the trash.

  Jasmine inhaled sharply, holding the smoke in her lungs. She blew the smoke out and tousled my hair. “I feel fat.” She patted her taut stomach.

  “What are you talking about? You’re beautiful.” Didn’t she ever look in a mirror? She was stunning.

  “No. I gained 2 pounds this week.”

  “What do you weigh now?”

  “Are you kidding? Don’t you know you never ask a girl how much she weighs? Or how many men she’s had sex with.”

  Why did she have to say that? Damn. I started to think about how many guys she might have slept with. “All I meant is that you don’t need to lose a single pound. You look great.”

  “You’re so different from the other guys I’ve dated.” She inhaled again. “You being so nice. You know. It’s kinda unnerving. Whatever. That’s my issue. Not yours.”

  I didn’t pay attention to her words. I caressed her stomach.

  Jasmine was the fourth girl I’d had sex with and, I had to admit, the only breathtaking one. When I was 16 I lost my virginity to an 18-year-old Swedish nanny on the roof deck of my apartment building. We did it standing up with a full view of the East River and all the boats going by. She was 15 pounds too heavy, but I loved her accent.

  The second girl was a soft-spoken Dalton classmate with braces who played classical violin. The third was a slender redhead from Livingston Dorm during freshman year. Luckily, she joined a sorority and moved into the house, so I didn’t have to worry about constantly running into her.

  Jasmine looked around at the posters covering the walls. “Shit, Colin. You obviously have a thing for the Beatles. This room looks like a shrine.”

  “They’re the best. Their music changed the world.”

  Paul, George, Ringo and, most of all, John. They expressed everything. All my feelings.

  Jasmine took another drag. “Jim Morrison got people to question authority, and Jim was better-looking than any of the Beatles. Even the way he moved was sexy.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with her. I kissed her gently on the neck.

  Jasmine leaned over me to stub out her joint in an empty coffee cup, and then she kissed me softly on my chest again. It felt so damn good.

  “Jim died in France, right?” I asked.

  “Yeah, they found him lying in a bathtub. OD’d on heroin.” Jasmine wrapped her arms and legs around me. “Two years ago on a trip to Paris I went to his grave site at Pere Lachaise Cemetery. There was a small crowd of people singing his songs, and all these candles were lighted. Bouquets of flowers everywhere. I left him a sunflower. Really emotional.”

  “That’s how I felt when I heard that John Lennon was shot. I was reading in my room when my mom told me what happened. At first I refused to accept it. It was like one of my parents had died. I wouldn’t even go to school the next day. I just stayed home and played Double Fantasy over and over.”

  “Wow, that’s intense. So what’s your favorite John Lennon song?”

  “Imagine.”

  I couldn’t believe it. We were soul mates. I could share my music and my deepest feelings and thoughts with Jasmine. I started to hum All You Need Is Love as I stroked her hair. A completely mesmerizing girl. And I had her all night.

  This was big. Very big. I felt it. Freshman year, Karl had all the luck. Sophomore year was going to be my chance. But was I good enough to keep Jasmine? That was the question I couldn’t get out of my mind.

  Maybe she was out of my league. What made me think I could get a girl like her? What made me think I could keep her?

  I could. I would. I had to.

  I thought of all the reasons Jasmine might decide not to go out with me. (1.) I didn’t play football like Karl. (2.) I didn’t have a lot of friends. I probably wasn’t going to pledge at a fraternity. (3.) I wasn’t cool enough. She’d probably dated guys who knew exactly what they were doing in bed.

  But I could change. David Bowie kept changing his identity like a chameleon. He became a new person with almost every record he released.

  There was David Bowie as a space oddity, bouncing around the stars in his space suit, and David Bowie on the verge of cracking up as Ziggy Stardust, and then he was the “thin white duke,” a cold and nasty stone face. On some songs he sounded completely different from how he’d sounded before. I could do the same thing. Bowie said it was all about Changes. It happened all the time in rock and roll.

  7.

  JASMINE AND I had been going out for three weeks. I wanted to do something special for her. We both needed a break from studying, so I suggested renting a motorboat on Sunset Lake, which bordered the campus on three sides.

  In Jasmine’s white VW Rabbit convertible we drove a few miles off campus to the public dock. Her car was littered with empty water bottles, Doors tapes and gum wrappers. I noticed she had a yellow-and-white friendship bracelet on her left wrist.

  The top was down and Jasmine’s hair whipped around her face. She pushed her black sunglasses up, attempting to hold her hair in place. She didn’t realize how stunning she was. That made me want her even more.

  We parked the car in a lot next to A&W Motorboats. I handed an unshaven, balding man $40 to rent a boat for two hours.

  We walked toward the water on a long pier that had seen better days. The beams had collapsed on one side, and a rusty bicycle bobbed up and down in the murky green water near the dock. But in the distance was the expanse of shimmering blue lake.

  The motor boat we rented was faded red and in fairly good condition. Jasmine stepped into the boat first and sat in front. She removed her sweatshirt, revealing a rainbow tie-dyed T-shirt. She fumbled through her hemp bag for a bottle of Coppertone. I watched her rub some suntan lotion on her nose.

  “Do you want a hummus sandwich? Hummus has so much protein and no fat. It’s so good for you,” she said, taking the top off the cooler, which was filled with sandwiches and cold beer.

  “No, thanks. I’m not really hungry.” I’d do anything for her. Except eat her health food. I took off my T-shirt so I could feel the sun on my back. It felt great to be out in the water with Jasmine.

  “How about a beer?”

  “Sure.”

  I couldn’t help staring at the large breasts bursting through Jasmine’s T-shirt. She was a size D. I felt myself getting hard. I glanced at my bathing suit and saw the bulge.

  I couldn’t tell if Jasmine noticed, but I thought she raised her eyebrow a little as she handed me the can of beer. I opened the can and downed it.

  “How about a little Mr. Mojo Risin’,” Jasmine said, putting a Doors tape into the small cassette player she’d brought. She pressed “play” and The Crystal Ship started. She leaned back on a cushion. She took a bite of her sandwich and sipped her beer. Every move she made, she fascinated me.

  “Isn’t this song calming?” Jasmine took her sunglasses off her head and put them on. “It always puts me in a trance.”

  “Yeah, totally.”

  Jim Morrison’s voice painted a psychedelic aural landscape. The Crystal Ship was dreamy, soothing and tender. But it was Jasmine who had put me in a trance, not the music. I looked over at her and noticed a tear running down her cheek. What was going on? Was she upset or just moved by the song?

  I killed the motor. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She looked away. Soon, many tears were streaming down her face.

  “Come on, Jasmine. I’m not blind. I can see that you’re crying.”

  “I failed my astronomy test.” She tossed the empty beer can into the cooler. She took off her sunglasses and wiped away her tears with the back of h
er hand. “How can I study black holes when my own family feels like one? There’s no escaping. My family is fucked up.”

  “What’s the matter with your family?” I was uncomfortable. What should I say? I wanted to be sympathetic. “I’ll help you with whatever it is.”

  Her face hardened. “Why do guys think they can always fix my problems?”

  “What do you mean? I’m just trying to help.” Why did she jump on me like that? I was totally confused.

  “Whatever, you won’t understand.” Jasmine looked away from me and stared out into the water.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Come on, try me. What is it?”

  “I dunno, I just feel like everything’s caving in on me.” She sighed loudly, took a tissue from her bag and blew her nose. “Dad cheated. Again.”

  “How do you know your dad cheated?”

  “Mom caught him with this slut, in her own bed!”

  I wasn’t sure what I should say to that.

  Jasmine blushed. “Wanna hear the punch line? My dad is sleeping with a chick only four years older than me!”

  “Shit, that stinks.”

  “I don’t know why my mom thought that he’d change. Once a cheater, always a cheater. I’d never allow a guy to treat me like that.”

  “So why do you think your mom does?”

  “Because she has a heart of gold. She thinks she can save everybody and everything. She’s taken in three stray cats and a rabbit. The only person she doesn’t help is herself. I wish she’d just get a divorce.”

  “It sounds like she should.”

  “For some crazy reason she can’t. She holds on to this naïve dream that they can still work things out.” Her shoulders stiffened. She was sitting up very straight.

  I wanted to help her relax. I needed to cheer her up. “Maybe somehow your parents will patch things up. You never know,” I said in the most soothing voice I had.

  Jasmine screamed. “Are you kidding? No chance in hell. My mother needs a lot of love and my father needs a lot of space. And who is it that gets to listen to Mom cry every night on the phone? Me.”

  Another tear ran down her cheek. Shit. She seemed so vulnerable. Almost fragile. Like a little girl. I realized there was no way I was going to calm her down. She was too upset. All I could do was show interest. Show her I cared. I leaned toward her. “What’s your dad like? Besides being a cheater?”