Playing with Matches (18 page)

32

BRIGHT COLLEGE DAYS

E
very year, there were three signs that summer was approaching. The first was that east Missouri would experience three weeks of nice weather before it became unbearably humid. The second was that my dad would start to badger me about getting a summer job. The third sign was the recruiters.

Various colleges would set up little propaganda booths in the commons area. Any upperclassman who walked too close would be subjected to a barrage of adjectives describing the paradise that was their campus. You quickly learned not to make eye contact. Except Johnny. He’d always asked the recruiters how often he could expect to get laid at their campus. They’d never bother him after that.

One morning, about two weeks after Amy and I had started dating, I ran the academia obstacle course.

I zigged past the Washington U booth. “Sorry, I’m not a millionaire.”

I zagged past the Rolla College of Engineering table. “I hear there’s tons of women at Rolla, but they’re both lesbians.”

I scoffed at the Lindenwood recruiter. “Is it true you can still pay your tuition with pigs and cows?”

Dan was blocking the Central Christian College of the Bible station. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the recruiter looked upset.

The Marine Corps sergeant ignored me.

I had just about run the gauntlet and was looking for Samantha when I saw Melody.

I almost missed her. Not because of the other students, or because of my usual distraction, or because her wig was obscuring her face. It was because of what she was doing.

She was leaning against the University of Missouri–St. Louis booth, talking to the recruiter, and smiling.

She wasn’t alone. Buttercup, for once not taking pictures, had joined the conversation.

I’d never seen Melody go out of her way to talk to people. Even at lunch, when she sat at her new table, she didn’t say a word. Not that I’d glance over at her, fifteen or twenty times, while I ate.

After the history class incident the other day, I knew better than to try to talk to her again. She obviously didn’t have any use for Leon anymore.

Of course I went over and tried to talk to her anyway. If there was one thing I’d learned from Mr. Hamburg, it was that men seldom followed the sensible course of action. Granted, that usually led to wars and televised debate, but still.

Buttercup was yapping at the recruiter about how she was going to decorate her dorm. From what I heard, she was going for a rainbow theme. I wondered how she would react the first time some college guy came over and tried to take off his pants.

Melody stiffened when I approached her, but she didn’t move away. And then she smiled. Just a little. We walked a few paces from Buttercup.

“Thinking about going to UMSL?” Damn, my icebreakers were forced.

“Maybe. It’s close to home.” Melody held my eyes. She wasn’t friendly, but she wasn’t too terribly hostile. That was an improvement.

“So did you catch the
Twilight Zone
marathon the other day?”

She allowed herself a laugh. “That Talking Tina episode still freaks me out.”

We were having a conversation again!

“How about the one with that kid who could control people?”

Melody affected an evil voice.
“I wish you into the cornfield.”
She really was smiling now.
Should I try to make peace?

“Melody, um, you didn’t have to give back that DVD.”

Her smile faded. “That’s what you do when…That’s what you do.”

“Listen, Mel, maybe we could get together sometime. Watch movies like before.”

She took a quick breath. “I guess I’d kind of like that, Leon.”

My God, is it working? Does she want to be friends again?
“Great!”

“How about tomorrow night?” she asked. I noticed that her hand rose to take mine, then fell quickly to her side.

“Sure…Oh, I can’t. Amy wants to take me clothes shopping.”

Dan had once told me that during the Spanish Inquisition, they’d rip out your tongue for making foolish remarks. Good thing I didn’t live in medieval Europe.

Melody’s face scrunched up like an old kiwifruit. “On second thought, Leon, you can watch it with Amy.” She pronounced Amy’s name like it was a curse that could make crops die.

“C’mon, Melody. How about Thursday?”

“No! Don’t you get it? I’m not going to share you! I’m not going to hang out with you when it’s convenient for
her.
I’m not going to sit there, remembering the dance, while you dress up for
her
! I hope she’s everything you want, Leon.”

Melody stomped away. I let her. Why couldn’t I just let it end? Most of Zummer High wanted nothing to do with me. Why couldn’t I let Melody join them?

I wanted to throttle someone. Where was that guy from Rolla?

“You broke her heart, you know.”

Buttercup was standing next to me. Though the girl was incapable of not smiling, her grin was less broad than usual.

“I didn’t mean to.” Why did I have to explain this to everyone? What business was this of theirs?

“Of course you didn’t. And she knows that.”

“What did she tell you about me?”

“That you were sweet and paranoid, and the biggest dork in school. She liked that. You weren’t afraid of what people thought.”

Which was one of the reasons I dumped her. I was worried about what people would think.

“I didn’t know you guys were friends,” I said, trying to change the subject.

Buttercup shrugged, her smile growing broader. “We went mini golfing the other day. She’s awfully nice.”

“Yeah, I know. She—” I cut myself short. Never unburden yourself to a reporter, even one who writes for the
Bulldog Bugle.

“Leon, why did you break up with her?”

It was almost time to go to class. I’d missed breakfast with Samantha and I didn’t feel like talking anymore.

“Off the record?”

“Of course.”

“Because I like Amy better. I know that makes me a son of a bitch. I know that I hurt Melody and I know that makes me scum, but that’s how it is. Life isn’t a fairy tale, Buttercup. People do not live happily ever after.”
Right?

Buttercup’s smile didn’t waver. “I don’t believe that for a second. There’s someone out there for everyone. I might spend my whole life waiting for Prince Charming.” Her eyes narrowed and she almost frowned. “But I know if I find him, I won’t let him go.”

33

EVERY GIRL’S CRAZY ’BOUT A SHARP-DRESSED MAN

I
f it was up to guys, human beings would still be wearing animal hides. In the winter. In the summer we’d go around naked.

In the cramped dressing room, I pulled on a shirt that cost more than a month’s allowance. Ever since elementary school, I’d regarded clothes as something to keep my butt from hanging out. So why had I allowed Amy to drag me clothes shopping?

“How you doing in there?” came Amy’s lilting, beautiful voice.

Well, her voice was beautiful to me. I did notice she was developing a smoker’s rasp and perpetual cough.

“Just a second.” The shirt actually looked kind of nice. Button-down, expensive, and no funny sayings. I modeled for the mirror.

I exited the booth to get Amy’s approval. She didn’t whistle or compliment me like I’d hoped; she was too busy looking at some jeans in the women’s section.

“What do you think?” I called.

She glanced at me. “Nice. You should get that.”

I removed the shirt and added it to the pile. This was probably the most expensive shopping trip I’d ever been on. I’d had to go to the bank and withdraw most of the money I’d been saving for a camping trip with the guys that summer.

The clerk wrapped up my purchases as I handed her the small pile of twenties. I had no idea how I was going to pay for gas that week, or that Weird Al CD I wanted. If this kept up, I might have to overcome my laziness and get a job with Rob at the pizza joint.

Why had I just spent $155.79 on a bunch of shirts and stuff I didn’t care about? I used to laugh at guys like Ben, who wasted time dressing up. So what the hell was I doing in the
Gap
?

One look at Amy reminded me. A sales guy, about my age, was lurking around her, quick to show her this item or that item. He’d completely ignored me.

Amy was a girl who could have any guy she wanted
and she knew it.
And for some reason she wanted to be with me. We’d been together for over two weeks. I’d kissed her. She seemed to like me. So of course, she’d want me to dress a little nicer. And eat at places besides the Barn. And maybe not hang out with my friends as much.

Amy pawed through outfit after outfit. The clerk kept sniffing around her. I hovered around the exit, waiting for her to be done.

She never noticed.

Unasked for, an image of Melody appeared in my mind. She never would have made me change what I wore. Or ignored me when we went out.

But then again, Melody didn’t have a perfect body. Even if she’d been unscarred, Amy would have won the swimsuit competition. And the evening-gown contest. As for Miss Congeniality…

Amy joined me in the main part of the mall.

“Hey, can we stop by RadioShack?” I asked.

“Oh, Leon, do we have to?” She pouted.

“Then how about the bookstore?”

“Sure. Hey, sale at Francine’s! Wait here for a minute, Leon.”

A minute turned into twenty. And we never did go to the bookstore. But Amy held my hand as we went to clothes store after clothes store. And she let me kiss her when I dropped her off at home.

Everything would work out. I was sure of it.

Besides, if I didn’t make the effort, I knew some other guy would.

On my third or fourth time out with Amy, I began to notice how stinky our dates were. There was the sweat of the party and the bowling alley foot odor, and now, as we strolled through the chill night air, I stank again. We had met in University City (part of St. Louis) several hours earlier. I had hoped we’d just hang out, but instead we spent three noisy hours at a dance club, listening to some lousy local band, as I sweated and was knocked around by the various headbangers. Then we ran into some of Amy’s friends and I was dragged to an all-night diner, where I ate an overpriced omelet while a bunch of people I’d never met discussed people I didn’t know. Finally, we all went to some dude’s dorm room at Washington University, where about fifteen college students were blasting their stereo and getting ridiculously drunk on some supermarket tequila.

Now here it was, around midnight. My new shirt stank of sweat, cheap booze, and pot smoke. I felt like I’d inhaled three packs of someone else’s cigarettes. We were blocks from our cars. I hadn’t expected to be out this late, so I hadn’t brought a jacket. For late April, it was pretty damn chilly.

Amy walked close to me, stopping to examine the various window displays we passed. While I felt like a human hair ball, Amy still managed to look like a picture you’d see in a photographer’s display.

Amy was studying an outfit in the window of a vintage-clothes store. “I dunno. Kind of cute, but…what do you think?”

It amazed me that women wasted time asking men for their opinions on clothes. “Looks great,” I replied without looking.

Amy nodded, gazed for a few more seconds, and then moved on. I fidgeted. Once again, I was out with Amy and not enjoying myself. The highlight of the evening had been kissing her on the dance floor, hours earlier. Even that had been rushed. It was like kissing me was something she was supposed to do every so often, like putting change in a parking meter.

I wished I was home. I had sort of expected to get further with Amy by this point. But aside from holding hands and kissing good night, there was nothing. We were never alone long enough.

My date was looking at some titles displayed in a bookstore window. I noticed with annoyance that she was reading the cover of a book by a radio commentator I hated. The more I got to know Amy, the more I realized how little our personalities meshed.

I blew on my hands, fidgeted again, and basically, without saying it, let her know I was ready to go. She giggled, let me take her hand, and walked with me toward my car.

“You’ve seemed quiet lately, Leon.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have much to say.” Maybe if we’d talked about something interesting…

“No, I mean for over a week now. Whenever we go out, you act like you’re bored.”

“I’m not bored.”

“Leon, c’mon. You never talk when we’re together.” She stopped walking and looked at me. “Sometimes I think you’re not having fun with me.” She sounded sad, but her voice held just the slightest hint of a threat.
Other guys would enjoy being with me no matter what we did.

“Of course I’m having fun,” I asserted, but it sounded flat.

“You need to cut loose. I can’t be holding your hand every time we go out.”

“Holding my hand?”
For the first time, I raised my voice at Amy. “I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.”

She looked slightly abashed. “I didn’t mean that. But when we do stuff with my friends, it’s like you can’t wait to leave. You’re allowed to talk, you know.”

I pretended to be interested in a flier on a phone pole. “Maybe if people would ever discuss something interesting, I would talk.”

In less than a second, Amy was staring me in the eyes. “So my friends are boring? Is that it?”

Yes.
“No. I’m just not a party guy.”

“I guess you’d rather hang out in a bowling alley, then? Talk about farting with Johnny or listen to Samantha wish she wasn’t a girl?”

There was a long pause. On the next block, someone peeled out.

“Watch how you talk about my friends, Amy. And do you have to do that now?” She’d been about to light up again.

Amy held the unlit cigarette in her fingers. “So it’s okay for you to talk about my friends, but I can’t talk about yours?”

This was getting out of hand.

“Amy, I like you. All I’m saying is, I wish you wouldn’t try to change me.”

Amy’s cigarette crumpled in her fingers. “I never tried to change you!”

That was the biggest load of BS I’d heard since my report on politics. “What about taking me clothes shopping?”

“Well, pardon the hell out of me, Leon! I had no idea your ratty jeans were such a part of you!”

“It’s not just the jeans. I always feel like I’m not good enough for you, that I’m letting you down.”

“I never thought that. Leon, you’re great. I didn’t realize you needed to be told that every two minutes.”

“Listen, Mel…Amy.”

Whoops.

It was dark and cold and lonely, and I wished we’d get mugged to cover up my enormous screwup.

“Did you just call me Melody?” Her voice was hardly audible.

“No.”

Amy began to walk. Quickly, but not so fast that I couldn’t follow her.

“C’mon, it was an accident.”

Amy stopped in front of a McDonald’s. “Leon, you better make goddamn sure you don’t have another ‘accident.’ I saw you talking to Melody before school the other day.”

“What business is that of yours?” Exactly the wrong way to answer, but I didn’t think I needed an excuse.

“I thought we were…” She trailed off. “Forget it. I don’t own you.”

“Amy, c’mon. Melody and I, there’s nothing going on.”
Anymore.

“Bullshit! She likes you. I just didn’t realize you liked her. I actually bought that ‘just friends’ crap.”

A couple of college dudes paused at the entrance to the restaurant to watch us fight.

Now was the time for me to say I didn’t like Melody. To call her ugly, or stupid, or whatever. Amy wanted blood. It was my only salvation.

“Melody’s nice. Lay off her.”

“Good night, Leon.” She turned to go into the fast food joint.

“Amy!” I grabbed her arm. She yanked away.

“Don’t you touch me!” More people were gathered around, watching us. Someone laughed.

“Amy, let’s talk.”

“Fine! Let’s talk. Let me hear you say you’re not hung up on Melody. Let me hear you say that I don’t have to live up to her. Tell me you won’t talk to her anymore.”

Amy? Jealous of Melody?

“Listen, Amy…”

“I mean it, Leon! Tell me it’s over between you, or it’s over between us.”

I paused for a second. A second too long, as it turned out.

“Goodbye, Leon.”

“Amy! Melody’s not…”

She was running. I chased her. By the time I caught up with her, she was at her car. She didn’t listen when I shouted her name, and I knew better than to try to touch her right then. When she got into her car, I risked a head injury by leaning in after her.

I thought maybe she’d yell at me, but she sat still and emotionless, like an exquisite mannequin. She didn’t turn toward me or make an effort to start the car. I stood up and she slammed the door.

I watched her taillights fade into the distance. (Actually, traffic was thick, so there was an awkward minute when I just stood there, two feet from her car, as she tried to merge.)

Dumb-ass! What did I go and defend Melody for? She didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I should have called her every name in the book instead of jumping to her defense. I kicked the fender of a parked car in anger, then went scurrying off when the alarm sounded.