Chapter 9: Closer to ‘Done’

Monday, August 13, 1984

Cammie, along with her sous chef Mel, had breakfast ready when the rest of us got up. We thanked her, of course. I doubted this would turn into a pattern during the semester, but perhaps? If it did, it would probably be because Cammie and/or Mel had the earliest classes.

After breakfast, we took another step towards getting settled into our classes. Freshmen were required to talk to an academic adviser before registering. Those in other grades generally were not, unless one wanted to take an unusually heavy course load or needed some other sort of exception.

We called and made appointments for Wednesday morning. There was no reason to wait — in this case, the early bird definitely got the worm.

Even if the consensus amongst the girls was ‘Eww! No worms for me!’

Though, as Jas pointed out, she was fine with a specific one.

That got all of the other girls giggling.

“I’m fine with that one!” Cammie said. “Just ... not touching me!”

More giggles ensued.

We had burgers for lunch, thanks to yesterday’s shopping. After lunch, the six of us visited two appliance stores and the girls reached a consensus on a new range and oven, a new refrigerator, a microwave, and a coffee maker.

There was (surprisingly or not) still some disagreement about electric mixers, blenders, and crock-pots.

For my part, I agreed with all of the choices. The girls certainly valued my input, and Jas and Angie both pointed out that I was probably a better cook than they were. That said — they decided, and I supported that.

Angie refrained from pointing out that I can mostly live with anything, but likely everyone but Mel heard it, anyway.

For her part, Mel didn’t question our having input on the appliances. Whether that was just her becoming used to it, or her hiding her questions, I had no idea, but we’d be talking to her soon enough.

The store gave us a tiny bit of grief when we paid with an MNM Investments check, but Jasmine could prove that she was an officer. The store manager had almost certainly also called our bank, but he didn’t say anything about it. I didn’t ask, nor did Jas. Mel was off with Cammie, so she missed a chance to become (even more?) suspicious.

We had dinner at the Dixie Chicken to celebrate. Nothing fancy, but very tasty. Cammie again commented about just how much of this dinner her parents would detest — beer, lesbian couples, many of the outfits, and so on and so forth. Even the music! They apparently did enjoy country music, but the stuff the Chicken was playing was too ‘modern,’ according to Cammie.

Walking back to the house (it was very close, which would be nice if we did drink too much beer at the Chicken — something I imagined happened often to many people), we talked about the house. Between the appliances (being delivered tomorrow — early August was a slow time in College Station) and the furniture heading our way from the (former) Richardson house (due by Wednesday), we were pretty much ‘done.’

There would likely be dozens of little things we would need, of course. The kitchen was woefully under-supplied with staples, spices, and the like, but that would take care of itself. The beds would probably cause a search for new linens, and we still needed a few more pieces of furniture (though not necessarily immediately). The couches, chairs, and table in the living room were still ‘serviceable’ at best, so we would likely keep an eye out for used furniture.

With the extra queen bed (likely to be a surprise for Cammie and Mel), we would ‘repurpose’ the existing twin beds to the extra second-floor apartment and the basement bedrooms. All of that meant we had furniture sufficient for Mom and Dad, Camille and Francis, and Tony and Jean to stay over.

Mel’s parents had already let her know that they would get a hotel room, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. We just didn’t know the Rileys that well, and they weren’t ‘family’ in the way that the others were.

Mind you, we hadn’t actually invited the parents to stay over, but we would soon enough. Perhaps they would, and perhaps they wouldn’t, but we’d make the offer.

It was both amusing and slightly daunting to think of putting Mom and Dad in twin beds with it clear that Jas and I shared a big bed, but that was intellect versus feelings. They knew we would share a bed, after all, and we were hardly ashamed of it.

Cammie’s parents? That would be very much something they’d disapprove of.

As Angie would have said to my comment about that: ‘Or don’t.’

Tuesday, August 14, 1984

The new appliances arrived around two. The installers seemed confused, so I asked one of them what was going on.

“There should be someone here from the rental agency to sign for them,” he said.

Oops!

He had a point, really. If we were going to pretend to not own the house, we’d have to work through the rental agency sometimes. For construction and painting it’d been fine, but ... yeah.

“They said we could sign,” I said.

He harrumphed. “Don’t like it,” he said.

“Give them a call,” I suggested. “They’ll confirm it.”

He did, and came back with the papers after a bit.

“They said it was fine. First time I’ve had the tenants approve anything.”

I shrugged. “We’ve been approving things for months. A couple of us moved in early, and there was a lot of work done on the place over the summer.”

“See something new every day!” he said, then put the signed papers away.

The appliances looked just perfect in their new home. Every little thing put us that much closer to being ‘done,’ and that was good.

Wednesday, August 15, 1984

My meeting was scheduled for ten, so I made sure to get to the College of Business offices by nine-fifty. The receptionist was the same woman who’d greeted us before. She actually seemed to recognize us, which gave her some points, but then she also had my name and could’ve checked to see when we’d been there before. Either way, she seemed both pleasant and efficient.

My adviser (I suspected he was picked at random from the newer faculty) was a Dr. Ronald Dattero. I chuckled to myself at the Purdue diploma on his office wall. Pur-fucking-due, back again to haunt me!

He shuffled through some papers, finding something that had my name at the top, and frowned, tapped his pen on the desk a few times, then looked at me.

“So,” he said, “You’re one of our President’s Endowed Scholars?”

I nodded. “One of several visiting this morning, in fact. All of my house-mates have them.”

He shook his head. “Well, congratulations! What are you proposing for freshman year?”

I passed over my notes.

He frowned again, looking at them.

“This looks pretty unusual. You should have English...”

“Tested out,” I said.

“And pre-calculus...”

“Already have college credit for Calculus I and II.”

He tapped my form and raised an eyebrow.

“Honors Chemistry?” he said.

“I like chemistry — well enough, if not enough to major in it — and if I’m going to have a shot at a University Honors certification, I’ll need some Honors sections.”

He nodded.

“Computer Science 204?”

“I’ve tested out of the prerequisites. I’ve got spare time. I think computers are going to be a very big deal for business in the next few years. Picking up some skills won’t hurt.”

“State and Local Government is a year and a half ahead. There aren’t a lot of fall sections, and you’re skipping a class.”

“I tested out of American National Government, and if I get State and Local down, that’s one step closer to electives for my minor.”

He grunted.

“You’ve got Introductory Accounting a year early.”

“Won’t have the semester-swap problem, and I’ve got the math for it.”

“Golf? PE is at least a normal freshman thing.”

I smiled. “Golf seemed reasonable to start. Several of my friends will be trying for the same section.”

He nodded at that.

“Last but not least, Math 165 — Topics In Contemporary Mathematics I. You know we only require 166B — not even the regular 166?”

“165 is basically taking an elective slot. I’ve got extra, thanks to placing out of a bunch of stuff. I’m pretty sure the full 166 will meet the degree requirements, but if not, I’ll take 166B.”

He shook his head. “Seventeen hours is fine. We normally recommend fourteen, but you don’t need approval. Let me see...”

He looked at the other paper again.

“You’ve certainly got the credentials. Just don’t get in over your head. It’s very easy to overcommit as a freshman.”

I chuckled. “You should have seen my high school schedule. I’ll be fine. Besides ... well, you might be the one to talk to my sister. She’s a freshman, too.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s double-majoring in Business and Mathematics and will have a minor in there somewhere. Possibly English, possibly Political Science. I don’t think she knows yet. She’s looking at a twenty-hour schedule.”

“That’s a tough sell,” he said.

“I don’t relish being the one to try to talk her out of it.”

“Twins?”

“Nah. It’s complicated, but no, we’re definitely not twins. Just close.”

“Being in the same grade would either make you close or at each other’s throats!” he said.

“Fortunately, close. We’re house-mates.”

“You said house-mates twice. Why are you off campus?”

“We got that approved from the housing office. The house is owned by our family. Believe me, you won’t have to worry about us going off the rails.”

“Famous last words! That said ... you seem like you’ve got your head on straight.”

“Either that, or we’re all crazy. There are a lot of aggressive schedules here, but — like you said — we’ve got the track record at managing aggressive schedules. I’m stopping short of a double major — at least for now — but Angie ... she’s a big-time quantitative analysis fan, and for that...”

“You need math and business,” he said, nodding. “How’d she get into that?”

“Coincidence. Do you know the field?”

“Had to study some of it. Not my area, though.”

“Our high school government teacher was Tom Myerson.”

He blinked. “The Tom Myerson?”

“Turns out, yes. Tom didn’t bring it up, but we happened to discover his secret and ... Angie got hooked.”

“He’s teaching high school government?”

“He’s financially independent and can nurture future generations. That’s his passion.”

“Gotta hand it to the guy, I guess,” Dr. Dattero said.

He took my form and scrawled his signature on it.

“If I get your sister, I’ll approve hers, just on principle,” he said.

“There are a couple of other housemates headed over, too. Paige Seiler and Cammie Clarke.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of girls!”