“Excuse me, Miss St. Clair?” I said as my voice nearly broke in half. “Do you have a minute?”
“Yes Lenny, what is it?” she spoke as the words poured out of her mouth. I edged my way around her desk so I could get a better view. God, if this wasn’t worth the price of admission I don’t know what was.
“I was just wondering, about what you wrote on the top of my paper. I understand what you mean. Maybe JFK’s assassin wasn’t the brightest choice for the subject of my report, but what did you mean when you wrote that it was dependent?” I said as I tried to look her in the eyes until she looked away. I’ve noticed this is a good tactic to use when trying to invoke a certain response. It gives you a feeling of power.
She fumbled around her desk nervously, as if something was bothering her. Her face was flush and her eyes looked weary, like she had been up for hours. The clock on the wall showed 10:15 and the minutes ticked by slowly as she drew her head up to respond. I could feel the pressure of her thighs as they gave way when she turned her chair. Something had to give, and I was hoping it would be her nylons.
“Oswald is dependent because his fame and contributions to society are based solely on the achievements of another individual,” she said as she turned her head back down in an act of dismissal.
I wanted to respond, but I really don’t think anything I had to say would have made a difference. I was almost late for my next class, and at this rate I was going to win the Tardy Award for 1981. Which of course, I would have to share with Wesley since he was the one who made all of it possible. Still, as I walked to my film class, I couldn’t help but think of Miss St. Clair and what may have been troubling her. Did she have a fight with an old ex-boyfriend? Maybe she was pregnant. Maybe she was pregnant with her ex-boyfriends bastard child. I guess I’ll never know. Someone knows though. It would be nice to know what people are thinking. To know when you’re getting introduced to your girlfriend’s parents for the first time if they’re saying inside, “God where did she dig this one up from?” or “How does she ever expect to get anywhere in life when she dates janitors?” Hopefully they don’t think that. All you can do is hope.
Nighttime around Wakefield was spent one of two ways. Drinking or working. Sometimes both, however it’s not a combination I would suggest. That night as Wesley strolled through the lobby of our dorm I could see that I wasn’t going to get much working done. So, I abandoned all thoughts of homework and went straight to the bottle. I know it might be hard to believe but liquor was really easy for us to get. Our neighbor across the hall was 27 and he had been at Wakefield for 8 years, and it wasn’t because he was trying for his masters or anything. Teddy Tesky stood 6 feet 4 inches tall and was a wall of mass near 300 pounds. He ate the way some people sleep. For hours. I thought about timing him once, but figured I had better things to do than time Teddy while he ate bratwurst. He was a fat slob of a man, and I have to say wasn’t much of a ladies man, but he could get us beer. It’s interesting the reasons people find to include others. It was a bit of a necessity. And as necessities go, this one goes down as one of the big three. You know, eat, sleep, and drink. I’ve decided to replace shelter because I’d rather be drunk in a box than sober anywhere else.