by Young, Luke
Chapter 27
"Hey, yo, dude."
I open my eyes to find young Ben standing over me. "What is it?"
"Can you do me a favor?"
"What is it?" After stretching my arms behind my head, I lift up grimacing, letting out a groan before plopping back down on the bean bag chair.
"Could you go to class for me and take notes? There's no test or anything today."
"I guess. What are you doing?"
"Emily's picking me up. We're going to Annapolis for the day."
"Oh man, I love Annapolis."
He shrugs. "I'd ask you to come along, but..."
"Yeah," I reply and we share a smile.
"I left my notebook on the dresser along with directions to the building in case you've forgotten where it is." He moves to the window and looks out before checking his watch. "It doesn't start until one, so you have some time."
"No problem. Hey, thanks for the food."
"How was it?"
"Words can't describe." I shake my head and let out a soft moan.
"I know, right?" He walks to the dresser and grabs his wallet. "You need some cash?"
"No, I'm good."
Returning to the window, he looks out. "You know, I'm almost glad you're here."
"Me too."
"Imagine how much the two of us could get done if we— oh, she's here."
"Yeah..." I slouch down in the bean bag chair. "I'll just stay down."
"You're the best." Heading toward the door, he points at me.
"Have I told you how good looking you are?"
He shakes his head. "Right back at you babe."
After eating breakfast, I make my way to the lecture hall, sit in the back row and open up Ben's notebook. I haven't sat in a classroom since, well, college and it feels weird, but good weird. There are a dozen other students in this twice-a-week three-hour session and no one looks particularly thrilled to be there, except for me as I remember that this was one of my favorite classes.
Two rows to the left of me sits this girl who seems familiar, but I can't remember her name. Glancing to her a few times without being painfully obvious, I try to place her. I catch her eye and we share a smile, but it doesn't help. I guess we're not friends since she didn't motion for me to sit next to her or anything. No one in the class has said a word to me, but it's not surprising since I spent my college years pretty much keeping to myself and missing out on a lot.
The professor enters the room and soon begins class. I take careful notes and when the break rolls around I head outside the building. Spotting the girl from class, I walk up to her. "Hey."
"Hi," she replies.
She's short, has dark hair and is built like an athlete. Curvy in all the right places, yet still feminine.
"You liking this class?"
She sneers. "Not really. You?"
"It's okay."
"We had Statistics together in the spring," she says.
"Really? Statistics…" The memory flashes in my mind and my eyes widen. "That's the guy that spits when he talks, right?"
"Yeah..." She chuckles. "No one would ever sit in the front row."
Suddenly it hits me. "You were in a cast then, right?"
"Just got it off a month ago."
"I knew I recognized you." I shake my head, embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm Ben."
"Carrie."
That's right, now I remember her. I had this little crush on her, she looked so cute and helpless making her way into the classroom, bumping her crutches into desks and struggling to remove the backpack from her shoulders. Of course, back then I didn't help her or say a word to her, loser that I was.
"I felt so bad for you. Having to get around campus on crutches and all."
"It was a pain, but I survived."
"How'd you hurt it?" I point to her leg and give her a sympathetic look.
"Gymnastics. I fell off the balance beam."
I cringe. "Are you back doing it again?"
She shakes her head. "No, I'm officially retired."
"Well, it's safer that way, I guess."
"Yeah, I miss it though."
"I just found out my roommate, Alan, was, or, I guess, is a gymnast."
"Really?"
"He told me he works out after the team practices some days. He's friends with the coach or—"
"I think I've seen him." Her eyes brighten. "He wears this red white and blue striped thing."
"That’s him. He's got a whole 1984 Olympics thing going on there."
"Totally." We share a laugh.
When the break is over I follow her inside, where I pick up my notebook and sit at the desk beside hers. We chat for another few minutes before the professor starts up again. After class, I walk with her to her car and my thoughts are swirling. I should just say it, I mean, what could it hurt? What's she going to do, run away screaming?
"Carrie, in that statistics class I was, um..."
"What is it?"
"I just wanted to apologize for not helping you or—"
"What do you mean?" She looks at me like I'm out of my mind.
"Sorry, you just looked so adorable and, as I said, I felt so bad for you, and, uh, I should have helped you or something."
She frowns. "I know, guys can really be jerks."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm kidding." She smiles. "I'm sorta used to it."
We reach her car and she says, "Well, see ya Thursday."
"Sure."
She climbs into the car and suddenly I grow a set and say, "Wait, I had this crush on you back, you know, years ago and… I mean, in that class. I was just, just, I mean, if I hadn't been so shy, I would have actually talked to you."
"Well, you're talking to me now." She smiles.
"I am." My eyes brighten. "Yeah, so anyway… do you think you wanna meet out at the Vous tonight or…?"
"Sorry, I can't."
"Oh, that's okay." I step backwards from the car, dejected. "I was just—"
"Hey, Ben, wait."
I return my attention to her. "Yeah?"
"I just meant that I can't tonight. How about Thursday?" She gives me a hopeful smile. "Next class we'll work out the details."
"Cool. Yeah."
She flashes her eyes away from me shyly. "You know, I, noticed you too in that statistics class."
"You did?"
She nods.
I have trouble containing my smile. "I'll see you Thursday."
She gives me one last smile before pulling the door closed. As she drives away I head back to the frat house wondering why I was such a shy loser back in college— this isn't that hard at all.
Chapter 28
I hit the gym again, followed by more basketball, then enjoy another chicken calzone and stop into Swensen's for a giant cookies and cream shake. I love having this super-fast metabolism of a young body. It beats the shit out of the old man super slow one that stockpiles weight around your middle if your diet consists of anything other than carrot sticks. I can also eat whatever the hell I want without digestive consequence. Hell, at forty five I can't even touch an onion without paying the price. I'm thinking now that I came back just for the food and that's a reason I can live with.
It's a slow night at the restaurant, so I stick around and go out with a few of the people after closing. We have a good time, drink a little and I'm careful to not say anything to give my situation away. When I return to the room, young Ben is already asleep. I was looking forward to telling him about Carrie, but now that I think about it, he probably wouldn't approve so why tell him. And since I certainly don't want to hear about his Annapolis trip with my future wife, it's a good thing he's not awake. We won’t be seeing much of each other for a while since, upon checking the schedule, I found he's working the next two days, one afternoon shift followed by a night one. I'll need to stay away from my friends at Swensen's for the next forty-eight hours.
When I wake up just after ten the next day, I'm amazed since I've never in my life sl
ept this late before. I went to bed around midnight, so that's an incredible amount of sleep for me. Come to think of it, I've been sleeping later and later since I've been back. I suppose being back here and having no real responsibility in my life has made me so much more relaxed. No exams to take, no job, no wife, nothing holding me back or on my mind— this has been the best vacation I've ever had.
I imagine that the real Ben was up around seven and he's nowhere to be found. I see the damp bathroom towel hanging over the chair and think if I stay much longer it's probably not a bad idea to purchase another one of those.
I discover a note on the dresser and it says: If you're going to keep wearing my clothes you've got to do laundry. Stop wearing my fucking underwear because that's just sick— buy some of your own and for God's sake buy a towel.
I chuckle thinking that he's reading my mind now.
After eating some breakfast, I force Alan to drive me to a store. Following Ben's advice, I buy underwear and a bath towel then head to the laundromat with all our clothes. After the marathon clothes washing session I head back to the room.
An hour later young Ben returns from his shift. Kicking off his black shoes, he sighs. "I really hate that place. We're always running out of spoons. You'd think if you were running a freaking ice cream parlor, you'd buy plenty of spoons." He gives me a sarcastic look. "They're really important to the business."
"I know. I used to have nightmares about spoons. I'd wake up and be talking out of my head about needing spoons."
"Me too."
We share a knowing, duh-obviously-we-have-the-same-experiences look and break into a smile. I say, "Hey, I did our laundry today."
"Cool." He unbuttons his white shirt, tosses it on the floor, then slips off his pants and drops them down as well.
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask if we could keep our room a little cleaner." I pick his clothes up off the floor and hang the shirt over the chair.
He says casually, "Okay, yeah, sure."
"Great." I fold the pants in the middle and place them carefully over the shirt. Shaking my head, I look him in the eye. "What am I doing?"
"Got me." He raises his eyebrows. "Our clothes… Our room…."
"I'm not sure why I said that."
We shake our heads, giving each other the same bug eye look. He says, "This is fucking weird."
"Yeah, it is."
"I mean, I don't mind having you here, exactly, but when the hell are you going back?"
I shrug. "I guess when it's time."
"When'll that be?"
"Not exactly sure... exactly. So, are you seeing Emily tonight?"
"No."
"Good. I mean, do you want to go out for a beer or something?"
"Alan and I are heading to Georgetown." After taking a moment, he shrugs. "You could come. You won't have to disguise yourself or anything. If anyone asks, we'll just say we're twins."
"Great."
He says, "I definitely don't want to deal with those questions around campus, so we can’t go to the Vous or anything, but we should be fine in Georgetown."
"Can I ask a favor?"
"Yeah, maybe..." he replies hesitantly.
"Can I go to your Business Law class tomorrow for you?"
"Sure." He smiles. "Why?"
"Well, I met Carrie and we talked and she even—"
"You talked to Carrie?" He puts his hand up for a high five. "Dude, dude dude… I've always thought she was cute."
I slap his hand. "Yeah, I know."
"You can go tomorrow, but how about this. You gotta take the exam next week for me because I'm going to be lost."
"It's a deal."
A few hours later were at the Fishbowl in Georgetown already feeling pretty loose after our fifth beer each. Alan is the designated driver and stopped after number four— it's the late eighties and we're in college so give us a fucking break. I'm sure he'll be fine to drive in a few hours.
The whole twin story line is playing pretty well with the girls in the bar. There was even one hot girl who said she wanted to come home with the two of us. I'm not sure if she was serious or not, but I doubt young Ben is up for that level of debauchery. When I went back to find her, I saw her hanging all over some other huge guy, so I think that ship has sailed.
When last call is announced, both Ben and I order one more beer and I'm embarrassed to say what number that is, but let's call it number six. I head to the bathroom while he waits at the bar, and not only was I super close to being involved in a threesome with my younger self and the hottest girl in the bar, I also collected two other girls' phone numbers. Yes, I'm even more convinced that I'll hold my own in California.
After standing in front of the urinal for what seems like five minutes in one of those super buzzed, my bladder is about to explode and it feels like a long drawn out rumbling orgasm pees, I come out of the bathroom and head toward the bar searching for Alan and young Ben. At first I don't see them until I turn toward the source of loud voices across the room. Spotting this tall guy with his finger shoved into Ben's chest, I rush over.
Just before I reach them, the tall guy pushes Ben against the wall and draws his fist back. I'm by no means a fighter, but instinct takes over and before the guy can let loose on my brother from the same mother, I punch the tall guy awkwardly, but effectively in the side of his stomach. Coming at him at an odd angle it was my only point of entry since his fist along with his height made reaching his jaw ill advised, if not impossible for someone of my limited fighting skill level.
The guy drops like a rock to the floor. I must have nailed him in the spleen or kidney or somewhere bad, but don't ask me because I'm not a doctor or anything. Young Ben looks at me with surprise and after we spot some angry faces in the crowd heading our way, we scramble toward the door.
"Where's Alan," I say.
"I don't know."
"Shit." Looking back, I identify the two guys rushing toward us and they're huge. "Let's find him later."
Ben and I burst out of the bar and head left running down the street with me leading the way. I turn left again down a side street then run at full speed until we reach another corner and make a right, slipping into an alley. Young Ben is right behind me and we both slump against the wall struggling to catch our breath.
"What the hell was that?" I ask.
"He said I spilled a beer on his girlfriend."
"Did you?"
"I don't even know who the hell his girlfriend is."
I take a few steps toward the street and look both ways. After finding no one chasing us, I return to Ben. "I've never hit anyone before."
"How'd it feel?"
"Pretty good."
"Thanks for that."
"Sure." I take another look out on the street and Ben follows behind me this time. "How're we going to find Alan?"
"Maybe he's waiting at the car."
Luckily we parked a few blocks from the bar and when we reach the car, Alan isn't there. Neither of us has the keys so we wait. About ten minutes later Alan shows up and says, "What the hell? You guys ditched me."
"We sorta got into a little trouble. What the hell happened to you?" Ben asks.
"I was in the bathroom with that chick who wanted to bang the both of you." He shoots us a smug smile.
I look at him stunned. "No way. She wouldn't even talk to me after she found out he..." I motion to my twin and roll my eyes. "...wasn't interested."
"Well, I guess it takes two of you to do what I can do all by myself." Alan unlocks the car and we all climb in.
"This is unbelievable." I slump back in the car and shake my head dizzy from all the beer and way too much excitement. "She wouldn't even give me her number."
"So what happened in the bathroom?" Young Ben asks as Alan backs the car out of the parking space.
Alan stops the car at the entrance to the street and gives us a smile. "I believe you call what she did to me a blow job."
"No fucking way." I lean forward, pressing my bo
dy between the seats.
"You're like a rock star. That's totally a rock star move," Ben says.
"Yep." Alan replies.
"How the hell did you pull that off?" I ask.
"I just asked her."
I scoff. "You just went up to some girl and asked her to blow you?"
"Not exactly. I asked her if she wanted me to go down on her... and well, she said yes."
"So, did you?"
"What?"
"Um, go down on her," I say, rolling my eyes.
"No way. I'm not going down on some chick I don't even know. She could have just banged out some other dude and I'm not putting my mouth anywhere near that." He shrugs. "Plus after she finished with me, I was kinda out of the mood anyway."
I nod in agreement. "Yeah... been there."
"I haven't," Young Ben says, innocently.
"You will." Sighing, I slump back in the seat and close my eyes. "You will."
When we return to the frat house, Ben gets in his bed and I curl up with my blanket on the floor. He says, "Thanks for, you know, for taking care of that guy for me."
"No problem. We're pretty lame aren't we?"
"What do you mean?"
"Our first fight in twenty years and it takes both of us to beat up a guy. You distract him while I hit him."
We share a chuckle. "You got to use all your talents in a situation like that... even if your only talent is your future self traveling back in time."
"Yeah." I turn toward him. "Thanks for letting me stay here. Sorry I've been kind of an asshole."
"That's okay."
After a few moments of silence, he asks, "So I really marry Emily?"
"Yeah."
"When do we get married? What do I do for a living and where do I work?"
"You marry her in—"