Another week went by and then the weekend came and I ended up drinking too much (again). This time Jane hid Caleb's phone and wouldn't let me go back to Gandhi by myself. Lizzie was my chaperone when I left. I planned on going back to the dorm to have a good cry, or at least curl up with a bag of honey-mustard pretzels and a cable movie.
As soon as we walked outside, someone called, "Hey, does one of you guys have a smoke?" A group of guys were sitting on the picnic tables outside of Prasch.
"I do," Lizzie said, digging through her purse. She grabbed my arm and pulled me over to them. There were three guys: a red-headed muscular one I'd seen around the dorm adjacent to Prasch, a skinny blonde, and a taller, dark-haired guy.
The tall one's face was covered with faint acne scars, but he had a strong jawline and sensual lips. "What's your name?" he asked me.
"Tammy. And this is Lizzie."
All three dutifully shook our hands. The names of the other ones went out of my head as soon as they said them, but I caught the tall guy's name: Morgan.
"So what's up?" Morgan asked.
"Nothing."
"Tammy's having boy problems," Lizzie announced.
"A boyfriend?" Morgan asked, his eyebrows raised.
I looked down and shook my head. I could have sworn I heard him mutter, "good," under his breath.
We exchanged small talk with them for a few minutes. Morgan mentioned he was a Kennedy boy, meaning he lived in the only all-male dorm on campus, a fact I duly added to the newly formed "Morgan" filing box in my brain. Finally Lizzie nudged me, and we bid the guys a good-night. I changed into my pajamas and about to have a moment with Mark Hamill and his artificial member when someone knocked at my door. Despite myself, my first thought was that it was Dallas.
"Hello?" I asked cautiously.
"Tammy?" A male's voice. Mark Hamill, come to life?
I threw on the Abercrombie sweatshirt over my PJ's and swung open the door. "Oh, hi, Morgan."
"Hey, listen... I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me next weekend."
"You mean, like on a date?"
An easy grin appeared. "Yeah. Something like that."
"Sure, that'd be great."
"Friday?"
I nodded.
"Okay, well, I'll see you then. And have a good night."
"You too."
I shut the door, but after counting to ten, I opened it again and glanced down the hall. Lizzie was standing outside her room. "Did I really hear what I thought I heard?"
"If you heard a cute guy asking me out on a date, than you did."
Lizzie squealed and then gave me a hug. "Come on, let's go smoke!"
"What if he's outside still?"
She gave me a funny look.
"Come on," I told her dragging her down the hall. "We'll go out the side door."
My hands were still shaking from excitement as I lit my cigarette. I was just about to ask Lizzie what I should wear when we heard someone shouting. Lizzie leaned over to peer behind me. "Oh great," she mumbled under her breath.
I turned around, expecting to see Dallas, but the hair was too blonde and the frame too wide to be him.
"What's up guys?" LaVerne slurred when she got closer.
"Hey," Lizzie and I both replied.
LaVerne paused in front of me, trying to look me up and down in her usual intimidating manner, but her head kept swaying from one side to the other. "Listen, Tammy."
"Yeah?" I asked, flicking the ash of the tip of my cigarette and trying not to let LaVerne see me tremble.
"I know you guys put my bike on the roof."
"Listen, LaVerne, I meant to say that I'm sorry..."
She held out her hands and I had a vision of one of those cartoons where the big scary giant speaks in an uncharacteristically high voice, claiming he just wanted to be friends all along. "It's no big deal. I just had Eric get it down for me."
"Sorry," I said again.
"So we're even now, right? No more pranks?"
"What do you mean, even?" I asked.
"You know, you put condoms on my bike, I threw Yoda in the toilet, you put my bike on the roof..."
"LaVerne, you didn't. Tell me you didn't Sharpie Mark Hamill."
She peered at me with one eye half-shut. "Who?"
"Luke Skywalker," Lizzie told her.
She managed to open both eyes wide. "You didn't know it was me?"
"No," we both said at once. I was torn between shouting at her and poking her with one finger—I figured that would be all it would take to cause her to fall over. "But..." I realized that the primary reason—besides the fact that LaVerne was a big bully and dating a guy I used to like—I played those pranks was to impress Dallas. And look how well that had worked out. If my pranks on her caused her anywhere near the same pain that hers did for me..." I guess we are even now."
"Truce?" She held out one hand and put the other on the stoop behind her.
"Truce." I met her hand and shook it.
On Monday, Lizzie helped me plan my Friday night date outfit. I settled for a cute top with jeans and platform sandals.
On Tuesday, we came up with a "First Date Schedule" for the rest of the week. Even though I planned on wearing jeans, I wasn't going to shave my legs (and toes) until Thursday; that way the hair wouldn't have grown too much, but I wouldn't have to worry about blood stains showing on said jeans if I cut myself. I'd also shower on Thursday, as day-old hair is easiest to style.
On Wednesday, I was walking home from class, about to cross the main road leading to the quad when a motorcycle roared right past me. I prepared to give the driver the old Blockhead flip-off when the motorcycle pulled over to the side and the driver took off his helmet. It was Morgan.
"Hey, Tammy."
"Hi, Morgan."
"You headed back to Alpha?"
I nodded.
"I was about to grab a bite to eat. Do you want to come with me?"
"On that thing? I mean, on your motorcycle?"
"Sure." He patted what remained of the seat behind him. "I have an extra helmet."
My mind raced as I glanced down at the closed-toe shoes and long-sleeved shirt that were a requirement for my Chem lab. I pictured the un-shaved legs underneath my jeans and resisted patting my non-styled hair. Take charge of your own destiny. "Let me go change. Give me ten minutes?"
"I'll meet you in the parking lot outside Alpha."
I gave Lizzie's door a drive-by knock as I ran to my room and put the key in. Nobody came out, so I assumed neither she nor Andrea were home. I didn't have time to go see if Jane was around, so I hurriedly threw on a tank-top over my bra and shoved my feet into flip-flops while Paula Cole played in the background. Regardless of whether or not I was prepared, I was about to have my first date!
Morgan was in the parking lot when I came out of the side door of Alpha. He sat on the motorcycle, holding the second helmet between his legs.
"Hey," I told him as I came out.
"Here," he said, handing me the helmet.
I sat it gingerly on my head. Motorcycle helmet hair couldn't be any worse than 100% humidity hair.
"Have you ever been on one of these before?"
I shook my helmeted head shyly. He slid his other leg over so he was no longer sitting on it, but standing next to the side. He smoothly kicked the stand out and then turned to me, leaning forward in order to fasten the strap underneath my chin. My heartbeat picked up speed and I could feel my cheeks—mercifully half-covered by the helmet—heating up at his closeness.
"Jump up here," he said, assisting me as I swung my leg over and slid into place. He resumed his previous seat on the bike. "You're going to have to scoot closer to me," he said over his shoulder. "Wrap your arms around me, and then tighten your legs."
My witty reply about already having tight legs was drowned out as he revved the motor. I did as instructed. Morgan twisted the handlebars and we began moving forward.
We caught a few glances from passers-by on our way off campus. I knew the helmet hid my true identity, but I wanted to scream at them, "Hey, it's Tammy. You know, the weird one. I have a date now!"
As we turned off campus, my elation turned to terror. The road running off campus led to a major intersection. My arms clenched Morgan's waist as cars roared past us. Thankfully Morgan headed to the nearest restaurant, Taco Ring, which meant I was only on my terror-induced ride for less than half a mile.
After he shut off the motor, Morgan slid off the bike and then helped me off. "You okay?" he asked, taking off his helmet.
My fingers stumbled over the helmet buckle, but I managed to get it loose before Morgan had to help me again. "That was...great," I told him.
"You weren't too scared? You were practically strangling my gut when we got on 54th Street."
"Maybe I was a little scared," I grinned at him.
He grabbed my hand and led me into Taco Ring. "I'm starving. You want something to eat?"
I stared at him blankly as my mind raced. Did this count as part of the date? Should I pay for myself, or do I have him pay? If I was going to pay, should I stand behind him line or get into a new line? But wait, I didn't even bring my purse, so that means he'd have to pay no matter what.
"Tammy?"
"Nah, I'm not hungry," I quickly replied.
He walked up to the counter. "You sure?" he asked, turning to me.
I nodded as he began his order.
Now what? Should I wait for him to get his food or should I sit down somewhere? I settled for finding a table. I fiddled with the salt shaker while I watched Morgan at the counter. He grabbed the tray and headed toward the drink station, shooting me a grin as he held his cup under the ice machine.
"You want some?" Morgan asked as he set his overfilled tray down across from me. I shook my head.
"What's your major?" he asked through a bite of burrito.
"Marine bio."
He paused mid-bite and glanced at me. "Still?"
I sighed and nodded. "Yep. What about you?"
"I started as a M. B. major too, but I dropped a few weeks in my freshmen year. Couldn't hack it." He shook a small plastic packet and peeled it open. The smell of hot sauce filled the space between us. "Now I'm a film major."
"Film? What are you going to do with that?" I didn't mean for my voice to present a challenge, but luckily Morgan didn't seem to notice.
"Be a director of course."
"Oh." That meant he had even less of a chance of finding a job after graduation than your average marine biology major.
The topic turned to our favorite movies. Morgan's were typical: Pulp Fiction, The Usual Suspects, L.A. Confidential. "What about yours?" he asked.
"80s movies." I wasn't ready to share my Star Wars-obsession with him yet.
"Yeah, 80s movies are pretty cool." Somehow I made it through the rest of that nerve-racking date (was it a date?) making what I assumed was the appropriate amount of small talk.
At last Morgan crumpled up the myriad of burrito wrappers on his tray and asked if I was ready to go.
This time I was less nervous when confronted with the motorcycle. As I fastened my helmet, I repeated a line from my favorite John Cusack movie: "Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way, turn."
"What?" Morgan asked, cocking his helmeted head.
"Never mind," I told him, cringing on the inside.
But I must not have embarrassed myself too much, because, after we'd arrived back to Gandhi, Morgan asked, "So we're still good for Friday, right?"
I handed him back the second helmet. "Of course."
"Looking forward to it," he told me as he gunned the motor and then sped away.
I'd survived my first date! Take that, guardian angel!
I walked back into my room on Cloud Nine and grinned at myself in the mirror before I turned toward my closet to see what Mark and his penis thought of my first date.
"What the...?" A PG-rated version of Mark Hamill now graced my closet door. He was clad in his Jedi-training gear with Yoda on his back and no visible genitalia.
Linda turned in her desk chair. "I know it's not the original, but I figured this was better than the ruined one."
"Where'd you get it?"
"My brother works at Disney, remember?"
I sat across from her. "You didn't have to do that, Linda." I could feel my throat tighten, but I had no idea why.
She shrugged. "I felt bad it happened while I was showering. I could have locked the room, but I didn't want to bring the key with me to the bathroom."
"Linda, I don't deserve this. I've been such a shitty roommate."
"You haven't..."
"I have." I cut her off. "I come in late at night drunk and loud, and I leave things messy. If I'd even been able to get a guy, I might have even pulled a LaVerne on you and brought him back." I realized that as much as I had changed since coming to Eckhart, Linda had never bowed to peer pressure and remained as unapologetically cheerful and innocent as when I first met her. I couldn't apologize aloud for the mean thoughts I had about her, but at least I could be sorry for my actions. "I don't deserve you as a roommate."
"That's not true. You were a great roommate. When you weren't obsessing over boys, that is. Which was pretty much always, so in retrospect..."
"Touché."
"I'm kidding. But..." She fiddled with a paper on her desk.
"What's up?"
"I know you probably want to room with Jane next year."
"I—" I didn't know what to say. The truth was Jane hated her current rooming situation and I once mentioned that she and I should be roommates in a non-substance free, co-ed dorm. Another reason to feel guilty.
"Don't worry about it," Linda continued. "I'm actually not coming back next year, anyway."
"What do you mean?" The relief I felt from the roommate conundrum being solved quickly to turned to confusion.
Linda shrugged. "I came here for marine biology, and now that I've dropped it, I don't really want to be at this school. I never really felt comfortable here."
I sat back in my chair. "Trust me, I know what you mean."
"So, now you'll have him" she nodded toward my closet, "to remember me by."
"I'm sorry Linda," I repeated. For so many things. "Are you going to go to a University?"
"I'll probably go to community college for a semester or so. That's what I'm working on now, the transfer process."
"Well, good luck. I'll miss you next year," I said sincerely.
"I'll miss you too."
"Let me know if you need any help," I told her, not knowing what else to say.
She nodded and turned back toward her computer.
I glanced again at my new poster. Mark's hair was a bit shorter, and you could see the scar from the car accident he had between the first and second Star Wars movies. He had his head slightly cocked, as if listening intently to whatever Yoda whispered in his ear. "A more mature Mark Hamill for a more mature Tammy T. Tymes," I thought before I cracked open my textbook.