by Bert Murray
“This is what I’m trying to tell you. Too much alone time. You have to stop hiding out in your room and start living again. This Nick Drake crap’s going to lull you right into a coma.”
Big Ty took out my tape, tuned the radio to a reggae station and came over to my side of the bed. He looked like a mountain looming over me. “Listen, Colin, you are not the first guy to lose his girl.”
“I know that, and it doesn’t help.”
“In high school I was going with this girl from the other side of town. Keisha. Man, I was hard up for her.” He shook his head back and forth. “It was the first time I really liked a girl, you know? So there I am, acting like a lovesick puppy, taking her out to eat and buying her all kind of shit I couldn’t afford.” He paused.
“What happened?” I sat up. I wanted to hear this. Big Ty had never said a word about Keisha before.
“I came to find out that she’s banging this other guy on my football team the whole time we were together. You see what I’m saying? It happens to everyone, so stop your pity party. And you can’t let it make you bitter, you hear me?”
In my mind I knew that everything Big Ty was saying was right. I just couldn’t make my heart believe it. “I hear you,” I said quietly. But I was bitter already.
“Look, Prep, you and I are gonna hit the parties over the weekend and get you back in the game. OK? I promise, once you hook up with a couple of hotties, you’ll forget all about Jasmine. You let Big Ty take care of everything.”
“Thanks.” Talking to Big Ty was taking way too much energy. He was a good guy, but I wanted to be by myself again.
“And look, if you wanna come by the house later, we can watch a movie or something. The campus store had this big sale and I bought all kinds of tapes. I got Caddyshack, Animal House, Shaft—”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, cutting him off.
“What’s this maybe shit?” He laughed loudly. He clapped his hands enthusiastically and began shouting, “Toga! Toga! Toga!” getting louder with every repetition of the word. Just like Bluto in Animal House. He looked ridiculous but funny. I had to smile. Probably my first smile in a week. It felt unnatural.
“So that’s what it takes to get you to smile?” Ty said. His face looked triumphant, as if he’d pulled me back from the edge of a cliff. His eyes were round and shining.
He’d been trying so hard that I wanted to say something to show him I was still alive, not completely buried in self-pity. “Hey, do you know Liz Williams?”
“The girl you were dancing with at the house. The one you got in the fight over.”
“Yeah, that one. What do you think of her?” I asked, scratching my 5 o’clock shadow.
“Here I thought you were holing up in your room feeling all sorry for yourself, Prep,” he said, laughing his deep belly laugh. “I see you’re going to be okay.”
“Liz seems to be interested in me. But I can’t make up my mind about her.”
“She’s a good girl. With a sweet, sweet smile. But what about her boyfriend?”
“They broke up a while ago.”
“Then go for it, Prep. Like Karl always says, it will be another notch on your bedpost.”
Karl. I felt a sharp stab in my chest. Was there no way to get rid of him?
Big Ty grimaced. “Shit! Sorry man. I didn’t mean to mention that name again.”
14.
JASMINE WAS KISSING me softly on the lips and we were listening to The Crystal Ship. I was sitting in the red motorboat on Sunset Lake with her again. Jim Morrison’s voice was smoothing over all my worries; the blue water was full of ripples and small waves. The sky was completely clear, and I was running my hand through Jasmine’s hair. We were going down deep, deep together. We would live at the bottom of the lake and never come to the top.
Suddenly a ring pierced my dream. I tried to block it out. I craved sleep. But soon another ring and then another punctured the calm.
Everything had been good again with Jasmine in my dream. Goddamn phone. I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in my pillow. There was another ring. Finally, I stretched my arm and felt for the phone. It was Liz. She wanted to come over.
I didn’t want to see her. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Easier to say yes. I told her to give me 20 minutes to shower and get ready. I forced myself to get out of bed and searched the plastic shower caddy for razors and shaving cream. There was a pair of socks that smelled, but no razors.
My room was a total wreck, like me. I couldn’t stand looking at the mess. Textbooks, dirty towels, empty beer bottles, papers and crumpled poems I’d written for Jasmine covered the floor. Chewing gum was stuck to the bottom of one of my sneakers, dust balls were everywhere and a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich covered with green mold was on top of the mini-fridge. On the floor next to the radiator, I saw the midterm paper I’d written for Karl on Wuthering Heights. I swore under my breath. I’d done so much for that guy.
He used me to get good grades. Used me to get to Jasmine. I began furiously shredding the paper. Every rip made me angrier. Little white pieces of paper were soon scattered around my feet. That term paper was due in three days. Good luck to Karl on writing it himself.
I had to get ready for Liz. Where the hell were my razors? Finally, I found a razor and some shaving cream in one of my dresser drawers. I grabbed a towel from under a pile of dirty clothes and walked down the hall to take a shower.
The bathroom stank. No one ever flushed, and the air freshener had shriveled up. I walked into the shower. Warm water fell onto my back and trickled down to my feet as I scrubbed my shoulders with a bar of soap.
The drain was clogged, and milky water ran over my toes. I let the water fall on my face. I didn’t want to get out of the shower. I just wanted to stand there for hours and let the water run over my body. Reluctantly, I turned the rusty valve and shut the water off. I stepped onto the tile floor, which was covered with hairs and the contents of a turned-over garbage can. Some asshole had kicked it over, and my foot slid in acne gel. I began to shave.
The razor nicked my chin and sent a stream of dark red blood down my neck. There were no paper towels, so I had to dry the blood with my towel. I stared down at the red spots on the white terry cloth.
A sinking feeling coursed through me. My juices had stopped flowing. I was dried up like a sponge left under the sink for years. Where was Jasmine right now? Lying in bed with Karl? I brushed my teeth quickly and headed back to my room.
15.
WHEN I TURNED the corner in the hallway I saw Liz knocking on my door. “Hey,” I said, coming up behind her.
Liz turned, startled. She glanced at the towel wrapped around my waist. She smiled and playfully arched an eyebrow.
“You’re early,” I said. I noticed that she looked cute, but I didn’t feel very happy to see her. Maybe I had no feelings for her. Maybe I had no feelings left for anyone.
“No, you’re late. You said 20 minutes.”
“Jesus, has it been 20 minutes already?” I didn’t seem to be able to keep track of time these days. I opened the door and held it for her.
“I need a minute or two to get dressed. You can come in if you want. Sorry my room is such a mess.” I should have been embarrassed, but I didn’t care enough.
“It’s okay. Do you want me to help you clean things up?”
“Thanks, but no. I should do it myself.” I knew I wouldn’t any time soon. I was too distracted.
Liz walked over to the bed and sat down. She looked at my Beatles posters. ‘“You like the Beatles? Me, too. Twist and Shout is one of the best songs they ever wrote,”’ she said enthusiastically.
Couldn’t let that alone. I had to correct her. “No. Phil Medley and Bert Russell wrote that song. The Beatles just covered it.”
“You look so sexy with the towel wrapped around your waist,” she said, getting up from the bed.
She stood in front of me and massaged me through the towel. She pulled the towel off an
d flung it onto the bed. She kissed me gently on my chest and stomach and then worked her way down.
“Oh, that feels so great.” I gently rested my hands on her head.
Big Ty was right. Liz was a nice girl. She was good to me. But I couldn’t care about her now. I was just using her to get over Jasmine. Not a great thing to do, but I was desperate to survive.
“And that was No. 1 on the Cosmo list,” she said. She stood up.
“It was awesome,” I said.
Poor Liz. It was too bad. She deserved better. All she wanted to do was please me. Just the opposite of Jasmine. I was in danger of becoming as much of a bastard as Karl. Karl majored in being a total dick. And the girls loved it.
“So, what do you wanna do?” Liz asked. “We could go walk by the lake or go to the Student Center and get something to drink.”
I wasn’t interested. “Shit, I totally forgot that I have a paper due for my lit class. I really should go to the library and work on it.” I pulled up my jeans.
“Really?” She frowned.
I knew she had a right to expect more after giving me a terrific blowjob, but I was feeling like too much of a bastard to be polite.
“Yeah, sorry. It totally slipped my mind. I feel really bad. I need to get this paper done.” A total lie.
“I understand. But if you feel like you need a study break or something, I’m around.”
“Sure, I’ll call you later.” I wasn’t going to call her. Not today. I walked over to the door and opened it for her.
“Bye,” said Liz. She kissed me on the cheek and walked out of my room.
“See ya.”
I closed the door behind her. I walked over to the stereo and put the Doors on. They made me feel as if part of Jasmine was still with me. I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a bag of Lay’s chips. I lay down on my bed to listen to the music and eat.
People Are Strange was such an eerie song. It gave me the shivers. Jim Morrison’s voice was weird and wonderful. I missed Jasmine too fucking much. The next song was Love Me Two Times. I tortured myself thinking of the way Jasmine had kissed me. So sexy.
16.
I BEGAN TO stop by Mrs. Vesquez’s apartment at least once a week. I always went the back way behind the astronomy building where the path curves around and there are a lot of pine trees. It smells good there and no one can see you.
Sometimes I brought her flowers or chocolate bars. We talked about John and the Beatles, love and loss. We talked about dating, death and the meaning of life. Having her for a friend made things a little easier. Quixote stopped hissing after I brought him a can of tuna one time, but he still didn’t like me very much.
“So, you’re still seeing this new girl, Liz?” asked Mrs. Vesquez, putting the large sunflower I’d bought for her in a vase.
“Yeah, I’m trying to move on, like everyone’s been telling me to do,” I said and took a sip of the green tea she’d made for me. “Liz treats me well and everything. I kind of like her sweetness. She’s like a chirpy bird.” I didn’t know if I meant that as a compliment or a criticism.
“She sounds very upbeat.”
“She is.”
“Liz is probably exactly what you need right now. By the way, this sunflower is absolutely wonderful. The yellow brings the sun right in front of us.”
“Jasmine loves sunflowers.”
“Jasmine, Jasmine. There you go again. Can’t you forget that girl? Don’t you get tired of saying her name?”
“She meant a lot to me. I can’t just put her out of my mind so quickly.”
Quixote stood up on the couch next to Mrs. Vesquez and stretched, arching his back. He circled a few times before lying down again.
“What is it you like so much about Jasmine? Tell me.” Mrs. Vesquez ignored the cat for once and stared into my eyes.
“It’s everything. Just everything. She’s a free spirit. You never know what she’ll say or do next.”
Mrs. Vesquez stood up right in front of me. “You want to call her tonight. Jasmine, that is.”
“Yes. You are a mind-reader. I was thinking about buying her a gift again.”
“No. Bad idea. Don’t contact her.”
I felt annoyed. “Why not? I still love her.”
“No. You have to leave her alone now. Don’t you see? This Jasmine. She left you. You need to let her need you. You can’t go chasing after her again. Try to be more of a man of mystery. That attracts women.” Mrs. Vesquez reached into her black pocketbook and grabbed a pack of Virginia Slims 100s and lighted one. “And anyway, now you need to give things with Liz a chance to develop.”
I scratched my elbow. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Mrs. Vesquez seemed to understand me better than I understood myself.
“I believe you need to give Jasmine space. That’s what she wants now. Maybe she will come back to you one day. And maybe by then you won’t want her anymore.”
“I doubt it. I’ll always want Jasmine.”
Mrs. Vesquez took a puff of her cigarette. “How can you be certain that Liz won’t start to grow on you?”
“Liz might be too into me.”
“Wait a minute, isn’t that what Jasmine said about you?”
She did. I didn’t know what to say. Shit, this was one sharp lady. It made sense that she was a writer. There was nothing about me she couldn’t figure out.
“You see, we always want what we cannot have.”
“Yeah, I guess you have a point.” Why did things have to be like this? I was miserable because Jasmine didn’t love me. And I was making Liz as miserable as I was. Was anybody happy in the game of love?
Mrs. Vesquez put out her cigarette in the white ashtray on the end table. “I’ve learned from bitter experience that pain is the best teacher. Keep in mind that first love might not be the best love.” She went into the kitchen.
I remembered my mother’s secret. I didn’t find out until I was 10. We were staying at the Gordon Folger Hotel in Nantucket. Mom loved visiting the island because she loved looking in the antique shops there. She admired the seagulls, the grey New England houses and the cobblestone streets. Dad insisted that we exercise every afternoon. While we were out biking, I asked him why my mother’s hair was turning gray and his was still brown.
“She’s older than I am. I thought you knew that,” said Dad.
“How come she’s older?”
“Well, she was doing other things before we got married.”
“What other things? Is it a secret?”
“Why don’t you ask your mother? She can explain better than I can.”
She did later that day. She’d been married to someone before my father. But he wasn’t right for her, she said, so they got divorced and she married my father.
I was relieved when my mother told me she had no other children, just me. Maybe Mrs. Vesquez was right about first love. It didn’t always work out.
Mrs. Vesquez returned holding a silver tray with a plate filled with chicken and rice. “You must be hungry,” she said.
“Thanks, Mrs. Vesquez. This looks awesome.”
I was touched. She treated me like family.
“Right now your heart is lost. The answer, my young friend, is time. You’ll find it again. Weeks. Months. These things take a while to work themselves out.”
“What about you? You still think about your son a lot?”
“Every day. Every hour. The death of a son is not easy to forget.” Her eyes began to tear up and she lifted a photograph of her son that was on the top shelf of the left bookcase and showed it to me. “Wasn’t he a handsome boy?”
“Yes.” I continued to eat the chicken and rice.
“After my divorce, Juan was the center of my world. He meant everything to me. After he was gone, there was nothing. My life was empty.”
“Is that why you came to teach in America?”
“Yes, Madrid is like a museum for me now. Too many painful memories back home.”
“I don’t like going hom
e either.”
Mrs. Vesquez served more hot tea and brownies. After we had tea, she asked me to go for another walk with her.
17.
IT WAS RAINING, but Mrs. Vesquez liked to walk in the rain. Her dark sunglasses covered her eyes. The Quad was deserted. There was only a squirrel that ran up and down an old elm tree. The wind blew the rain, and Mrs. Vesquez’s large black umbrella was unable to keep us dry. Two heavy silver bracelets on her left wrist clanked as we walked.
Raindrops fell in puddles and made ripples. She reached into her pocketbook for her silver lighter. The wind kept blowing the flame out. It took her a couple of tries to light another one of her Virginia Slim 100s. She looked searchingly at the rain.
We walked by the college chapel. Mrs. Vesquez said it wasn’t made for human beings. It was too perfect, its stained-glass windows too splendid and the wooden doors in front of the chapel too massive. We were quiet for a moment. I listened to the pitter-patter of the rain hitting the umbrella. Mrs. Vesquez broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking about your friend Karl,” she said.
“What about him?”
“Why did you choose Karl? Why did you decide on him for a friend?”
She was right. I’d been asking myself those same questions. “I messed up. I made a mistake. That’s all.” I changed the subject quickly. “Did I ever tell you that my dad wants me to major in economics? He thinks it’s a safe choice.”
Mrs. Vesquez laughed. “Safe? Nothing in life is guaranteed. Life is full of surprises. What do you want to major in?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should try theater? Dad would think I’m crazy. But I like it.”
“Really? Somehow I can’t picture you on stage.”
“I’ve heard that before.” Everyone said it. “But on stage I lose my inhibitions.”
“I don’t mean to discourage you. If you have a passion for acting, you should do it.”
Drops of rain hit hard against the umbrella. The fog had begun to roll in, and I could see only a few feet in front of me. We walked the hills at the edge of the Elerby campus, near Sunset Lake. I handed Mrs. Vesquez the umbrella for a minute and stooped to tie the laces on my sneakers. I saw dark spots on Mrs. Vesquez’s white shoes.