A Self Made Monster (22 page)

“I don’t have any electricity. Fuck. I can’t tell you how glad I am you showed up.”

“This is weird,” she said, as much to herself as to Edward. She took the screwdriver and went to work. The screws were deeply set: it would have taken ten Edwards to force down the door.

Twenty minutes later the last screw came out. Claire slowly opened the door, and Edward stood in front of her. She could see only his outline, but she sensed he was not fully clothed.

“Are you with someone?”

“Only you.” His breath and intent reeked of booze.

“Why don’t we sit down for a moment?”

The neighbor’s vapor lamp provided the only light. She stepped over several beer bottles. Edward sat on the couch, Claire on a wobbly kitchen chair. Edward talked almost non-stop for twenty minutes, and his monologue was so preposterous that Claire forgot about her notes.

Yesterday morning, Edward explained, he woke to find that he was trapped in his apartment. When he could not force open the door, he finally decided to call the police. “Was I embarrassed calling the cops!” he announced. He tried not to belch, then belched. “I was actually relieved when the phone was dead.”

The women upstairs didn’t seem to be around, so Edward resigned himself to staying in the apartment for a while. Edward decided to have a beer—”first of a multitude”—and wondered what to do. He stopped wondering after the fifth beer. He turned on his transistor radio, drank a bottle of wine, and enjoyed a respite from the real world. Eventually he fell asleep.

When he woke, the apartment was dark. None of the lights worked and the refrigerator was warm. He hadn’t noticed earlier, he said, because the refrigerator’s light had been burnt out for a month.

“I was a little panicked,” Edward confessed, “so I broke the window and called for help.”

“I would have been screamin’ for help,” Claire remarked.

“I would have, but I was still embarrassed. By the time you showed up though, I was about to fall asleep.”

“Who did this to you?”

“An old girlfriend I think,” Edward blundered. “We had a fight, nothing more than a spat, really, but you know how women—well some women, especially young ones—they can over-react.”

“Not that it matters, Edward, but are you naked?”

“I’m wearing underwear. Black.”

“Lacy, I suppose.”

“No. Crotchless.”

“Why wear any at all then?”

“Because I’ve got company.” He belched again. “Actually, the bedroom door locked behind me, and I can’t find that stupid skeleton key that opens it.”

The thought of naked Edward trying to break open the bedroom door made Claire wince.

“Want a beer?”

“No thank you.”

“Why did you come over?”

“Did you accidentally pick up my notes at the library?”

“No.”

“Shit.” Her drawl rendered the word “sheeyet.”

“It was no accident.”

“Edward?” She tried to sound angry. If he were her type, she would be flattered.

“It was just an excuse to see you, but I got—”

Claire could not help but laugh. “Locked in, yes.”

“They’re locked in the bedroom. We can try to get in there and—”

“Just bring them to the library tomorrow.”

Hidden behind a tree, Jimmy Stubbs watched the tall woman leave. He angrily chewed his lower lip. Christ, Edward Shithead already had a tart over!

Jimmy had arrived a half-hour earlier. He planned to sit against a tree, have a few smokes, and enjoy Edward’s imprisonment. Jimmy had hoped to hear Edward yelling for help, or weeping. When Jimmy arrived, he was surprised to see an unfamiliar car in the driveway. He crept closer to Edward’s entrance and saw that the door was open. He wondered how Edward had so quickly escaped his lockup.

“I swear to God I’ll nail you yet,” Jimmy promised. He pretended that the tree was Edward’s shin and kicked it.

Final exams were two weeks away, and Holly needed a miracle to earn a “B” in Alex Resartus’s class. She was satisfied with her other grades: “C” in algebra, “C” in history, “B” in business administration. But Christ! A “D” in English if she did not earn “A“‘s on her final paper and her final exam. Her letter of recommendation was almost out of reach.

The special situation demanded special action: therefore, she was lurking in the Academic Center at 11:00 p.m. with Jimmy Stubbs. Jimmy needed an “A” on the English exam to just pass. His plan was simple: steal a copy of the exam. He had been casing the Academic Center for a week, he boasted, and he believed his plan was foolproof.

Jimmy learned that the janitor began cleaning faculty offices at about 8:00 p.m. The janitor got to the English department—the fourth floor—between 11:05 and 11:15 p.m. The faculty offices were in two suites: one suite on the east side of the building, the other on the west. After mopping the long classroom hallway, the janitor entered the suites, and the double-doors closed and locked behind him. The only trick was to get past the double-doors that separated the suites from the hallway. Fortunately, one door closed slowly. As the janitor walked around the corner, Jimmy could slip past the slowly closing door.

Inside the suites, the janitor had a slick routine. He unlocked each office and mopped the floors. He kept each office door open as he went to the next office. He needed ten minutes to “mop” the eighteen offices. The janitor then locked his mop and bucket in a closet. On his second trip around the suites, he emptied the wastepaper baskets, sprayed air freshener, and locked each office.

“It’s made to order,” Jimmy whispered. “I’ll come up here each night and slip into Resartus’s office. I’ll hide under his desk, wait for the janitor to leave the building, and go through Resartus’s office.” Jimmy excitedly chewed his foreknuckle. “That exam is bound to be in there.”

“Fine. But what do you need me up here for?” Holly ventured.

“I really don’t,” Jimmy allowed. “I just wanted to show you how well planned out this is. You know, so you’d understand.”

“—Understand what?”

“Understand the plan.”

She slowly nodded.

“Well isn’t it?”

“What—?”

“Well planned!”

“Sure.”

“Fucking right!” Jimmy hissed. “And Edward Shithead won’t be the only one to ace the exam.”

A corner of Holly’s mouth lifted. “What’s that about the last laugher, or is it—” Holly’s eyes widened and she pressed a forefinger to her lips. The janitor was wheeling his bucket and mop down the hallway.

Jimmy’s pulse quickened at the sight of Holly’s erect finger against her mouth. He grabbed the finger and led her into an empty classroom. When he put an arm around Holly’s waist, she pushed him away and whispered to quit clowning.

“Bag your whining,” he whispered through clenched teeth. “I just wanted to get us out of the way.” He looked out the classroom and motioned at Holly to follow him. The janitor had just gone through the double-doors. Jimmy and Holly slipped past the slowly closing door, surprised by their own nerve.

The janitor did precisely as Jimmy predicted, opening each office door and skimming the floor with a mop. When the janitor crossed the hallway to the west suite, Holly and Jimmy crept to the east suite.

They stopped in front of Resartus’s open office. Two identical yellowed posters for a Shakespeare festival covered one wall. An overflowing bookcase covered another wall. A pile of paperbacks erupted from one corner, spilling toward the desk.

“Here I go,” Jimmy whispered. He felt simultaneously romantic and brave, and he hoped Holly shared his emotion. Perhaps she’d finally grow a crush on him. Such gallantry! he mused. He squeezed Holly’s hand, stepped inside the office, and slipped under Alex’s desk. He glimpsed Holly’s running shoes and ankle socks outside the doorway. Then they were gone.

The janitor would be coming in about three minutes. Two and a half minutes later, Jimmy heard the footsteps. He smiled and told himself he was a fucking genius.

Holly jogged across campus to her dormitory. She was terribly nervous about Jimmy’s plan, but it was her last hope for a letter of recommendation. She tried to put the plan’s shortcomings out of her mind. But she kept imagining Jimmy being caught under the desk by the janitor, or falling asleep and being caught by Resartus. The little blowhard would bawl out the whole scheme.

Holly was constructing a counterplan—what to do if Jimmy was caught—as she approached her dorm room. An envelope was taped to the door.

Inside the envelope was a typed note:

Dear H:

You probably think it’s ridiculous, but I really believe we should be together. I think we can be closer than you thought two people could be. I think I understand you more than you would know.

A friend

That creep Edward, Holly fumed, just won’t let up. He’s relentless, and he’s the reason I’m caught up in this stunt with Jimmy Stubbs.

The janitor had emptied the wastepaper basket, sprayed the air freshener, and slammed the door. Jimmy waited a half-hour to ensure the janitor was out of the building. He waited another half-hour to be doubly sure. Then he crawled out from under the desk, removed the penlight from his shirt pocket, and began searching the office.

Resartus had one metal file cabinet, unlocked and unused. Jimmy next searched the desktop. A computer, two piles of student essays, a memo about next year’s committee assignments. A copy of
Animal Farm
and a dictionary were side by side. So the guy reads kiddy books and can’t even spell! Jimmy thought scornfully. How did the fraud get a job teaching college?

The desk was unlocked. The first drawer was empty, the second filled with old class handouts. The third was empty too. Jimmy searched the desk a second time and concluded that Resartus had not yet written the test. He glanced at the raucous bookshelf, but decided not to search it. If Resartus was scattered enough to use his bookcase as a filing cabinet, then Jimmy was out of luck. But Jimmy believed he was very much in luck. He believed that within two weeks, he would find the final exam atop Resartus’s desk.

“You’re sure he won’t mind?” Claire asked.

“Impossible.” Edward strode confidently toward Alex Resartus’s office. “Professors love flattery.”

“Maybe you should be a professor.”

Edward enjoyed Claire’s barbs. Since she had rescued him from his apartment last week, he was oddly liberated. She had seen him at his most ridiculous: trapped, drunk, and wearing only underwear. Now he could not hide behind his Edward Know It All role, and he did not want to.

He knocked on the professor’s door.

“Come in.”

Alex was scribbling notes about his novel, and the intrusion irritated him. He looked up balefully, expecting to see a screwball student: “I haven’t been in class for nine weeks, but I need an ‘A.’”

“Oh.” Alex put down his pen. “Mr. Head. Edward Head.” He smiled. Edward grinned, thinking that the professor enjoyed his company.

In fact, Alex was grinning at the woman standing shyly behind Edward.

Remarkably, Alex remembered her: she was the student who worked at the Zip Quick convenience store. She had said she was in peak fitness.

“I was wondering if you could sign a copy of your novel for a friend of mine,” Edward said.

Claire stepped forward, holding a hardcover across her chest.

“I’m surprised,” Alex smiled. “Now I’ve met two people who’ve read my book.”

“To tell the truth,” Claire confided, “I’ve read only the first chapter, but I really truly like it. Edward loaned me his copy and—”

Edward faced Claire. “No. It’s yours to keep.”

“I put in an order for another copy with a bookstore in
New York
,” Claire said.

“Please, I can’t take it!” Alex laughed. He raised his hands as if pleading for mercy. “I know my book isn’t in every bookstore and in every mall and in every drugstore. But I just happen to have…” He stood up and scanned the top of his bookcase. “Here it is.” He handed the book to Claire. “For you.”

Claire handled the book as if it were delicate china that might crack at any moment. “Thank you, but I really can’t.”

“Go on,” Alex assured. “I’ve got a few more copies up there somewhere.” He sat back down, lit a cigarette. “It’s funny. I’d forgotten I had copies in my bookcase, and I was looking for a book—can’t remember what it was—and I came across my novel.”

“It’s even got the dust cover on it,” Edward noted, a bit envious.

“Don’t remind me,” Alex said. “I don’t like to see how much I’ve aged over the years.”

Claire had already opened the book and was examining the photo of Alex on the inside flap. He looked only slightly younger in the picture, and his hair was longer, and he still looked odd, with eyes that seemed to strain upon a distant object. “You don’t look that much older,” Claire said.

“You’re just being kind.”

“I can’t believe you forgot where you’d put copies of your own novel,” Edward remarked.