Not Ready

The days flew by. I was not a good student because I had not been a good student for years, but school was not difficult, either. Eventually, though, I began to go to study groups because they seemed to be fun, and there was a reciprocal effect. My grades began to improve. The most difficult classes were in my major--biology, zoology, physics, inorganic and organic chemistry, trigonometry, statistics. The other classes were cupcakes by comparison.

I met two girls in my chemistry class who were nursing students. They were from a town on the coast and lived in one of the new apartment complexes that were springing up all over town in the most unlikely places. They lived on a new highway that ran through cow pastures and orange groves on the way to the new airport. One Friday, they asked me if I'd like to come over that night. I don't know why I said yes. Probably because to say no would have been an insult or would have required an excuse.

I won't go into details. I'll just say it did not go well. I got there too early, perhaps, and they were both busy doing something. It was as if I had dropped by unexpectedly. They asked me if I'd like a beer, turned on some music, and went about doing whatever it was they were in the middle of. Awkwardly, I sat on the new couch in a new apartment, everything from the shag carpet to the vertical blinds a shade of beige. Eventually, they noticed me. One of them got out a water pipe and filled it. They smoked it up and began to laugh. One of them showed me their collection of dildos. They made me nervous. I had to leave.

There was another girl in my chemistry class with long, dark hair and big, round eyes who was sweet. I felt good when she sat beside me. But that was all of it. I was too afraid to ask her out.

Tommy and his girlfriend decided to get married. They went to a small town courthouse with a parent permission slip and Tommy's sister as witness. They lived in the trailer with her parents and had the baby the day that Nixon resigned from office over the Watergate scandal. I was there (for the birth, not the resignation). Tommy had been fired from the union job for missing too many days and was back working at the tire shop. They were looking for their own place.

One day, I went over to see them at the trailer after class. My hair was quite long now, and I guess I thought I knew something about politics. I was telling Tommy what a slimeball Nixon was and telling all the dirt I'd learned about that creepy little bastard J. Edgar Hoover. Suddenly, like a sucker punch, Tommy's mother-in-law jumped up and told me to get out of her house. Her face was screwed up in a rage. She didn't want me to come over any more, she said. No one was going to talk like that in her house.

I learned an important political lesson that day.

Some of my friends from school had decided to go to Europe for the summer. They asked me to go. They would take trains and stay in hostels. All spring, they planned and arranged it. I thought about going, but in the end, I wasn't ready. I decided to take summer classes and finish school early. When it was time to leave, I saw them off and felt the difference. They were all smiles, all excitement. I should have gone, I thought. Why didn't I go?

The summer was hot and all I did was go to school and study. Not many people were on campus, hardly anyone I knew. The little cracker box house was an oven once again.